Bricks in the Wall, Chapter 60: Portentous
Title: Portentous
Characters: Peter, Sylar
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Words: 500
Setting: The Wall
Summary: Peter floats a theory past Sylar about how Peter might get his powers back.
Notes: It occurred to me this morning that it's been forever since I wrote anything. Since my morning tasks were going real well, I asked the muses what they were up to.
Peter pulled out a sketch pad and a pack of colored pencils after he'd sat down at the work table in Sylar's apartment. He took the wrapper off the brand-new sketch book and opened the pack of pencils, shaking the box lightly to shuffle them out where he could see them. He clicked on the desk lamp, pleased with the illumination. He'd thought this would be a good place to do it.
“You said you couldn't draw,” Sylar said from where he was reclining on the couch with his book, taking up the entire piece of furniture in a relaxed sprawl. He and Peter had been on good terms lately. A certain level of comfort between them was the result.
“I could once. Or, well, while I had Isaac's ability. I could draw, paint … everything had a different feel to it then, like something big was going to happen.”
“Portentous.”
“What's that? A word that means something big's going to happen?”
Sylar nodded, picking his book up again and directing his eyes to it.
There's a word for that. Huh. Peter watched him, wondering if Sylar had some insight on Peter's current interest. It wouldn't hurt to see what the other man thought. “I was thinking maybe I still had my abilities.” That got Sylar's attention, immediately. Peter pursed his lips, going on, “When I got them, it was a change to my DNA. I got sick for a while - after I met you, after I got so many at once. Getting new abilities was always a little bit of a shock to my system because it changed me. It changed who and what I was.” He swallowed. “So I was thinking when my father did what he did, it would have been easier to turn everything off instead of take them all away and have to change everything back.”
Sylar's brows rose and he looked away introspectively for a moment, considering that.
Peter asked, “What if they're still there and I just have to learn how to turn them on again?”
Slowly, Sylar said, “That's possible. I don't know how your father's ability worked.”
“Yeah. I know. Me neither. But a lot less possible things have happened. Sometimes we just have to keep trying until something works, you know? I thought I'd start with drawing and try to remember how it made me feel, how Isaac made me feel.” He paused, watching Sylar's slight nod, taking it as a sign of approval. “Portentous,” Peter pronounced carefully.
“Hm,” Sylar said softly as he turned back to his book.
Peter pulled out a red pencil, then put it back and pulled out black. Changing his mind again, he settled on grey, which would be a good one to use to outline whatever it was he was going to draw. At that, his mind was blank. He looked around the apartment for inspiration. There was sure to be something around here he could use as a model. His eyes settled on Sylar and a small, sly smile creased Peter's features. He flipped open the sketch pad, adjusted its position on the desk, and went to work.
Characters: Peter, Sylar
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Words: 500
Setting: The Wall
Summary: Peter floats a theory past Sylar about how Peter might get his powers back.
Notes: It occurred to me this morning that it's been forever since I wrote anything. Since my morning tasks were going real well, I asked the muses what they were up to.
Peter pulled out a sketch pad and a pack of colored pencils after he'd sat down at the work table in Sylar's apartment. He took the wrapper off the brand-new sketch book and opened the pack of pencils, shaking the box lightly to shuffle them out where he could see them. He clicked on the desk lamp, pleased with the illumination. He'd thought this would be a good place to do it.
“You said you couldn't draw,” Sylar said from where he was reclining on the couch with his book, taking up the entire piece of furniture in a relaxed sprawl. He and Peter had been on good terms lately. A certain level of comfort between them was the result.
“I could once. Or, well, while I had Isaac's ability. I could draw, paint … everything had a different feel to it then, like something big was going to happen.”
“Portentous.”
“What's that? A word that means something big's going to happen?”
Sylar nodded, picking his book up again and directing his eyes to it.
There's a word for that. Huh. Peter watched him, wondering if Sylar had some insight on Peter's current interest. It wouldn't hurt to see what the other man thought. “I was thinking maybe I still had my abilities.” That got Sylar's attention, immediately. Peter pursed his lips, going on, “When I got them, it was a change to my DNA. I got sick for a while - after I met you, after I got so many at once. Getting new abilities was always a little bit of a shock to my system because it changed me. It changed who and what I was.” He swallowed. “So I was thinking when my father did what he did, it would have been easier to turn everything off instead of take them all away and have to change everything back.”
Sylar's brows rose and he looked away introspectively for a moment, considering that.
Peter asked, “What if they're still there and I just have to learn how to turn them on again?”
Slowly, Sylar said, “That's possible. I don't know how your father's ability worked.”
“Yeah. I know. Me neither. But a lot less possible things have happened. Sometimes we just have to keep trying until something works, you know? I thought I'd start with drawing and try to remember how it made me feel, how Isaac made me feel.” He paused, watching Sylar's slight nod, taking it as a sign of approval. “Portentous,” Peter pronounced carefully.
“Hm,” Sylar said softly as he turned back to his book.
Peter pulled out a red pencil, then put it back and pulled out black. Changing his mind again, he settled on grey, which would be a good one to use to outline whatever it was he was going to draw. At that, his mind was blank. He looked around the apartment for inspiration. There was sure to be something around here he could use as a model. His eyes settled on Sylar and a small, sly smile creased Peter's features. He flipped open the sketch pad, adjusted its position on the desk, and went to work.