12) When you get here I'm gonna greet you like the desert greets the rain.newredshoesApril 29 2010, 19:36:32 UTC
Oh man, I would love to write Sledge, but I don't feel like I have enough of a handle on him yet. With the Old Breed, here I come! (Apparently it's now #13 on the New York Times bestseller list.) In the meantime, so much for sticking with gen. ;)
There they all are with her in the movie theater. They keep coming back, boys with no clothes but uniforms, coming off the train in military-issue shoes, this one from a tank corps, this one Air Force, the next Marines, another Navy. They're so thin, even when the uniforms are nice. Bony wrists and sunken cheeks are a dime a dozen, and sharp knees, sharp hips, sharp looks and sharp ribs.
Kitty sits by herself, popcorn resting on her knee. The Tom & Jerry cartoon has just ended, and the newsreels start up. The announcer is chipper and confident; the footage shows Allied soldiers checking papers, directing trucks full of DPs and amusing themselves with the best Austria has to offer. She looks for bloused trousers but the boys onscreen are barefoot. Idly, she picks up popcorn one piece at a time, relishing the air conditioning and the butter on her tongue.
She hates to think of Harry as hollowed out as these men. They're owed time, after he comes in at the train station, after his family has had him and made sure he's who they sent, where Harry will plead exhaustion, and Kitty will kiss him goodnight, and she will put a locked door between them and the world, and she'll hide her wedding dress, which saw battle in Normandy, and they'll put themselves together, closer than they've ever known. She'll laugh between twisted sheets, and he'll leave marks up and down her neck, and they'll be more flesh than stark bone, and sleep as long as they like.
Onscreen, credits roll and music begins to swell. All the servicemen sit quietly, watching or not. Kitty crosses her ankles, and sucks the last of the salt from her fingertips.
Re: 12) When you get here I'm gonna greet you like the desert greets the rain.skew_whiffApril 29 2010, 22:29:04 UTC
Oh, that's beautiful. I've said before that you have this great knack for atmosphere (not to mention a marvellous ability to write passionate love scenes without ever needing to be explicit), and, well, you know I'm a sucker for those two, but this was utterly, utterly charming. Thank you.
(Oh, I wish I had a Kitty icon. I wish she'd been on screen. At least there's the fact that fandom somehow collectively made her so compelling.)
There they all are with her in the movie theater. They keep coming back, boys with no clothes but uniforms, coming off the train in military-issue shoes, this one from a tank corps, this one Air Force, the next Marines, another Navy. They're so thin, even when the uniforms are nice. Bony wrists and sunken cheeks are a dime a dozen, and sharp knees, sharp hips, sharp looks and sharp ribs.
Kitty sits by herself, popcorn resting on her knee. The Tom & Jerry cartoon has just ended, and the newsreels start up. The announcer is chipper and confident; the footage shows Allied soldiers checking papers, directing trucks full of DPs and amusing themselves with the best Austria has to offer. She looks for bloused trousers but the boys onscreen are barefoot. Idly, she picks up popcorn one piece at a time, relishing the air conditioning and the butter on her tongue.
She hates to think of Harry as hollowed out as these men. They're owed time, after he comes in at the train station, after his family has had him and made sure he's who they sent, where Harry will plead exhaustion, and Kitty will kiss him goodnight, and she will put a locked door between them and the world, and she'll hide her wedding dress, which saw battle in Normandy, and they'll put themselves together, closer than they've ever known. She'll laugh between twisted sheets, and he'll leave marks up and down her neck, and they'll be more flesh than stark bone, and sleep as long as they like.
Onscreen, credits roll and music begins to swell. All the servicemen sit quietly, watching or not. Kitty crosses her ankles, and sucks the last of the salt from her fingertips.
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(Oh, I wish I had a Kitty icon. I wish she'd been on screen. At least there's the fact that fandom somehow collectively made her so compelling.)
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