Leaving Comity
This is for aud_woman_in, who so generously bid on me at help_haiti. She gave me the slightly terrifying non-prompt of "write what you want!" I hope this does the trick. Thank you, thank you, aud_woman_in, for donating!
And thanks to meatfight for a quick grammar consultation and for not at all twisting my arm to include a silly inside joke.
( Her hair still smells like smoke and she feels slightly hung over. Metaphysically nauseated. )
And thanks to meatfight for a quick grammar consultation and for not at all twisting my arm to include a silly inside joke.
( Her hair still smells like smoke and she feels slightly hung over. Metaphysically nauseated. )
I'm always so impressed by how you give small but vivid details to set a scene:
small pink balls of ground chuck sizzling, and then presses each one flat in quick succession, the edges going crooked and lacy.
I can smell those burgers cooking, just as I can see Mulder's tongue flicking out to lick the dripping au jus away.
And that goes double for emotional content:
She thinks of Detective White’s limbs spidering over Mulder’s prone body, the ugly, surprising possessiveness that clenched at her throat.
Who among us didn't feel the same way, watching that scene for the mmummbleth time?
Best of all it sounds like them. Conversations laced with blunt truths and wily deflections, saying so much more than first meets the eye.
“To not being yourself. To constantly walking into situations where you’re altered or stolen or switched. Missing time. Missing memories. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it,” she says without letting him answer.
“You know,” he says, “I don’t think you do. And maybe you shouldn’t.”
Indeed. Well done :)
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And again, thank you so much for bidding on me!
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