ficlet: Incarnadine, PG-13, McKay/Sheppard
Title: Incarnadine
wordcount: 153
Author's Notes: This was actually written a while ago for either a contest or a community, but I can't remember which. So here's a mirror. Plus, I podific-ified it @ sgapodfic.
Rating/warning: slashy! PG-13
Summary: They're on a world by the name of Akrylica, where the colors are vibrant and strange but familiar to John.
Here, the sunlight is Burnt Sienna. It colors the sky in a watercolor wash, crisp and golden-brown. John remembers it from his mother's paintings, the color of sand and melted candles and sunflowers. The grass, immaculate Jungle Green, spits at his ankles, and the people approach him with cautious smiles.
Here, on Akrylica, the people are accommodating, providing separate stone hutches for the males and females of the Atlanteans.
Here, Rodney's skin is Zinc Oxide and Gentian in moonlight. At night, however, there is only the absence of color in the dark of their hutch. Here, there is only the colors that can be felt with fingertips and lips and hands.
The warm Cerise blush of Rodney's skin beneath John's hands, the Prussian-Blue of Rodney's eyes...
In the morning, the bright Champagne-and-Rose morning, they are Goldenrod and Buff, flesh and pigment and oil and canvas.
They are a masterpiece.
ETA: general_jinur has very kindly hosted the permanent link to download my podfic of this: http://jinjurly.com/audio/category/sort-byauthor/authorhellpenguin/
wordcount: 153
Author's Notes: This was actually written a while ago for either a contest or a community, but I can't remember which. So here's a mirror. Plus, I podific-ified it @ sgapodfic.
Rating/warning: slashy! PG-13
Summary: They're on a world by the name of Akrylica, where the colors are vibrant and strange but familiar to John.
Here, the sunlight is Burnt Sienna. It colors the sky in a watercolor wash, crisp and golden-brown. John remembers it from his mother's paintings, the color of sand and melted candles and sunflowers. The grass, immaculate Jungle Green, spits at his ankles, and the people approach him with cautious smiles.
Here, on Akrylica, the people are accommodating, providing separate stone hutches for the males and females of the Atlanteans.
Here, Rodney's skin is Zinc Oxide and Gentian in moonlight. At night, however, there is only the absence of color in the dark of their hutch. Here, there is only the colors that can be felt with fingertips and lips and hands.
The warm Cerise blush of Rodney's skin beneath John's hands, the Prussian-Blue of Rodney's eyes...
In the morning, the bright Champagne-and-Rose morning, they are Goldenrod and Buff, flesh and pigment and oil and canvas.
They are a masterpiece.
ETA: general_jinur has very kindly hosted the permanent link to download my podfic of this: http://jinjurly.com/audio/category/sort-byauthor/authorhellpenguin/