fic: sounds in the background [fringe, g]
sounds in the background
fringe
.g | olivia | 282 words
driving to liberty island, the radio keeps on.
n: so i made a mini spam for tumblr and then wrote something to accompany it. (not mine)
Driving to Liberty Island she switches the radio station only to frown at the music at plays out of her speaker. It’s not station she particularly likes and she sighs, pressing the buttons on the steering wheel to a more familiar station. Normally she’s not a fan of too much noise in the car, unless it’s Ella filling her day with stories, but the drive to New York is long and the car feels too empty. The nondescript news station fills the car with it’s white noise and she dimly picks up words like weather, pile up, time, north-bound, remember, Yankees as the car eats up the miles.
The Bridge has been active for months and they’re no closer to figuring out how to fix the problems both worlds are now sharing. Walter and Walternate argue too often to make any sort of real progress and the other her - her shadow twin with a son with no father and friends she doesn’t have in this world - stalks the Bridge quietly offering no words. She doesn’t offer words back.
The radio keeps on - tomorrow, midtown, remember, earthquakes - and the drive continues. Some papers slip from the passenger seat to the floor when she speeds up. She opens her mouth to tell-she swallows, there’s no one next to her to pick them up. The folder there is yellow, marked BISHOP BRIDGE, and holds to many questions. There’s a memory of an image that floats in her head.
remember
A honk brings her out of her thought and she looks back towards the road. It’s 11am, the radio announcer tells her and she’s got a long way until the Manhattan skyline fills her horizon.
fringe
.g | olivia | 282 words
driving to liberty island, the radio keeps on.
n: so i made a mini spam for tumblr and then wrote something to accompany it. (not mine)
Driving to Liberty Island she switches the radio station only to frown at the music at plays out of her speaker. It’s not station she particularly likes and she sighs, pressing the buttons on the steering wheel to a more familiar station. Normally she’s not a fan of too much noise in the car, unless it’s Ella filling her day with stories, but the drive to New York is long and the car feels too empty. The nondescript news station fills the car with it’s white noise and she dimly picks up words like weather, pile up, time, north-bound, remember, Yankees as the car eats up the miles.
The Bridge has been active for months and they’re no closer to figuring out how to fix the problems both worlds are now sharing. Walter and Walternate argue too often to make any sort of real progress and the other her - her shadow twin with a son with no father and friends she doesn’t have in this world - stalks the Bridge quietly offering no words. She doesn’t offer words back.
The radio keeps on - tomorrow, midtown, remember, earthquakes - and the drive continues. Some papers slip from the passenger seat to the floor when she speeds up. She opens her mouth to tell-she swallows, there’s no one next to her to pick them up. The folder there is yellow, marked BISHOP BRIDGE, and holds to many questions. There’s a memory of an image that floats in her head.
remember
A honk brings her out of her thought and she looks back towards the road. It’s 11am, the radio announcer tells her and she’s got a long way until the Manhattan skyline fills her horizon.