(no subject)
Fandom: Original
Rating: G
Note:
Natasha came from an Role Playing Game I joined early summer. It's fizzled out by now, but I still like the character and her family enough to keep them. I'll be uploading some of her posts to this journal. Just to have them kept in one place.
Natasha is a werewolf. She lives in a world where humans are enslaved by immortals. She's unhappy with where she is. And she cannot remember her family. Her earliest memories are of being alone in dumpsters and drinking out of dirty puddles.
There'll be a few more of her entries coming up before I move onto her other family members.
Enjoy.
---
”Closing time!”
It was surprising just how quickly the bar could empty out. It took hours for the place to fill to capacity, but less than thirty minutes for it to become desolate, empty, forgotten. Leo remained, sitting behind the bar with his eyes down, locked onto the pages of an old novel Nat had nicked for him from the library. The fat cat was a fan of romance novels, the cheap ones, with busty women and muscular men on the covers. On the day Natasha found this out, she couldn’t help but laugh.
“Figures,” she said quietly as she watched his cat eyes scan the pages, “Big, proud man-cat like yourself getting off on ancient human texts about sex and sentimentality.”
“Shh!” Leo waved her away, “I’m getting to the good part.”
Natasha sighed, shook her head, and hopped off of her chair. It was her job to clean up after the customers had left for the night, but she just didn’t feel up to it. There was something about the grayness in the air that filtered in through the dirty windows. Something about the sound of falling rain against the roof. Tonight wasn’t a night for working.
Instinct taking over, Nat walked quickly towards the front door and locked it tightly. This would prove to keep away any stray stragglers looking for a buzz in the early morning hours. Nat wasn’t in the mood to have to act as a bouncer and keep the dangerous wandering drunks from entering Leo’s place.
She wandered around the small room, then, weaving between chairs and tables, kicking at a dirty napkin on the floor. She hated the mess people left behind. Natasha continued in this fashion for a few long moments, fiddling with her hair as she went and messing with her clothing. And then, before she even knew what she was doing, she was sitting in front of the piano. It was an ancient thing, often dusty, often overlooked by the customers. It was rare to find someone who could play it well in the ghetto; usually it was touched by silly drunks or creative drunks or maudlin drunks who longed for a sad, melancholy tune to fill the air.
Natasha looked down at the old keys for a moment, noticing how some were chipped and how all looked weathered. She slid the chair up closer and hesitated for a second, holding her hands above the keys. And then she began to play.
It started slowly. The music was some long forgotten tune, a melody that registered somewhere in the back Nat’s mind. The fingers stretched and the tune grew into a song. It was a thoughtful song, a heavy song, and its notes hung in the air. Natasha closed her eyes. She’d learned to play long ago on this same piano, on nights just like these. She had learned on her own and she had certain songs memorized. This one, though, was different. This one seemed to rise out of Natasha like a long forgotten memory.
“You’re getting really good at that one,” Leo whispered softly, his eyes still on the novel.
“Thanks.”
Natasha let her fingers wander across the keys, let the song play itself. And once she was done, she rose silently, moved the chairs in the bar around until they seemed neat enough, and retrieved her jacket from a hook.
“It’s raining out there, kid. Where you going?”
“Don’t know.” Nat puts on her jean jacket and flips the hood of her sweatshirt up so that it’s covering her head. “Feel like taking a walk.”
“Well,” Leo looked up and shot her an annoyed look, “Make sure you get back and get a good sleep tonight. You haven’t rested in a while. And tonight is not a good night to sleep outside.”
Nat rolled her eyes, “Thanks, mom, I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Smartass.”
“You know you love me,” Nat grinned at her feline friend and promptly walked out the door, letting it shut heavily behind her.
It wasn’t that Nat didn’t care for Leo. Out of all the people she knew, Leo was one of the good ones. He had given her more help than anyone else she knew. He offered her work whenever he could, he often kept a room open for her above the bar, and he always lent her an ear. If Natasha loved anyone in the world, it was probably Leo.
But there was something about Natasha, something ingrained deep into her, that forced her out on rainy nights and that made her be a constant smartass to even her closest friends. Nights like these made the bar seem too small, too confining. Nat longed on nights like these to be out, to smell the air and feel the rain. It was nights like these that reminded her just how alone she was in the world. She loved the grey, rainy nights. She hated them, too.
It was a light rain that fell in the darkness of the short hours before sunrise. The streets were mostly empty. It was dangerous for a young girl to be out on her own in the city. But Nat didn’t really care. There was a recklessness to her, it came with having no one. She was free to walk, free to fight, free to steal, free to do whatever she wished. But the solitude chained her, too.
A cold wind blew suddenly and Natasha pulled her jacket tight around her thin body. She shook her head in an attempt to shake away the raindrops and heavy thoughts. A smile was on her face by the time she finished. Her thoughts were changing; she focused on the sound of the rain and the lovely feeling of being out in the night air. She’d go back to Leo’s. Eventually.
Before then, she’d stalk the night and let the rain have its way with her. The smile remained on her face. And her eyes focused on the path ahead. But there was a soft piano tune still playing somewhere in the back of her head. No matter what she did, she couldn’t shake that away.
Rating: G
Note:
Natasha came from an Role Playing Game I joined early summer. It's fizzled out by now, but I still like the character and her family enough to keep them. I'll be uploading some of her posts to this journal. Just to have them kept in one place.
Natasha is a werewolf. She lives in a world where humans are enslaved by immortals. She's unhappy with where she is. And she cannot remember her family. Her earliest memories are of being alone in dumpsters and drinking out of dirty puddles.
There'll be a few more of her entries coming up before I move onto her other family members.
Enjoy.
---
”Closing time!”
It was surprising just how quickly the bar could empty out. It took hours for the place to fill to capacity, but less than thirty minutes for it to become desolate, empty, forgotten. Leo remained, sitting behind the bar with his eyes down, locked onto the pages of an old novel Nat had nicked for him from the library. The fat cat was a fan of romance novels, the cheap ones, with busty women and muscular men on the covers. On the day Natasha found this out, she couldn’t help but laugh.
“Figures,” she said quietly as she watched his cat eyes scan the pages, “Big, proud man-cat like yourself getting off on ancient human texts about sex and sentimentality.”
“Shh!” Leo waved her away, “I’m getting to the good part.”
Natasha sighed, shook her head, and hopped off of her chair. It was her job to clean up after the customers had left for the night, but she just didn’t feel up to it. There was something about the grayness in the air that filtered in through the dirty windows. Something about the sound of falling rain against the roof. Tonight wasn’t a night for working.
Instinct taking over, Nat walked quickly towards the front door and locked it tightly. This would prove to keep away any stray stragglers looking for a buzz in the early morning hours. Nat wasn’t in the mood to have to act as a bouncer and keep the dangerous wandering drunks from entering Leo’s place.
She wandered around the small room, then, weaving between chairs and tables, kicking at a dirty napkin on the floor. She hated the mess people left behind. Natasha continued in this fashion for a few long moments, fiddling with her hair as she went and messing with her clothing. And then, before she even knew what she was doing, she was sitting in front of the piano. It was an ancient thing, often dusty, often overlooked by the customers. It was rare to find someone who could play it well in the ghetto; usually it was touched by silly drunks or creative drunks or maudlin drunks who longed for a sad, melancholy tune to fill the air.
Natasha looked down at the old keys for a moment, noticing how some were chipped and how all looked weathered. She slid the chair up closer and hesitated for a second, holding her hands above the keys. And then she began to play.
It started slowly. The music was some long forgotten tune, a melody that registered somewhere in the back Nat’s mind. The fingers stretched and the tune grew into a song. It was a thoughtful song, a heavy song, and its notes hung in the air. Natasha closed her eyes. She’d learned to play long ago on this same piano, on nights just like these. She had learned on her own and she had certain songs memorized. This one, though, was different. This one seemed to rise out of Natasha like a long forgotten memory.
“You’re getting really good at that one,” Leo whispered softly, his eyes still on the novel.
“Thanks.”
Natasha let her fingers wander across the keys, let the song play itself. And once she was done, she rose silently, moved the chairs in the bar around until they seemed neat enough, and retrieved her jacket from a hook.
“It’s raining out there, kid. Where you going?”
“Don’t know.” Nat puts on her jean jacket and flips the hood of her sweatshirt up so that it’s covering her head. “Feel like taking a walk.”
“Well,” Leo looked up and shot her an annoyed look, “Make sure you get back and get a good sleep tonight. You haven’t rested in a while. And tonight is not a good night to sleep outside.”
Nat rolled her eyes, “Thanks, mom, I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Smartass.”
“You know you love me,” Nat grinned at her feline friend and promptly walked out the door, letting it shut heavily behind her.
It wasn’t that Nat didn’t care for Leo. Out of all the people she knew, Leo was one of the good ones. He had given her more help than anyone else she knew. He offered her work whenever he could, he often kept a room open for her above the bar, and he always lent her an ear. If Natasha loved anyone in the world, it was probably Leo.
But there was something about Natasha, something ingrained deep into her, that forced her out on rainy nights and that made her be a constant smartass to even her closest friends. Nights like these made the bar seem too small, too confining. Nat longed on nights like these to be out, to smell the air and feel the rain. It was nights like these that reminded her just how alone she was in the world. She loved the grey, rainy nights. She hated them, too.
It was a light rain that fell in the darkness of the short hours before sunrise. The streets were mostly empty. It was dangerous for a young girl to be out on her own in the city. But Nat didn’t really care. There was a recklessness to her, it came with having no one. She was free to walk, free to fight, free to steal, free to do whatever she wished. But the solitude chained her, too.
A cold wind blew suddenly and Natasha pulled her jacket tight around her thin body. She shook her head in an attempt to shake away the raindrops and heavy thoughts. A smile was on her face by the time she finished. Her thoughts were changing; she focused on the sound of the rain and the lovely feeling of being out in the night air. She’d go back to Leo’s. Eventually.
Before then, she’d stalk the night and let the rain have its way with her. The smile remained on her face. And her eyes focused on the path ahead. But there was a soft piano tune still playing somewhere in the back of her head. No matter what she did, she couldn’t shake that away.