Prompt Post Round 1
Prompts go here! This will be closed and a new post made at 3000 comments. Please link all fills to the Round 1 Fill Post.
This post is closed to new prompts! Post prompts at Round 2! Fills and comments can still be posted here.
This post is closed to new prompts! Post prompts at Round 2! Fills and comments can still be posted here.
He
She smells terrible and the day is hot. Her clothes are frayed and filthy. There are small noises everywhere that used to make her jump and yesterday she was looking for an escape route, wishing there was still a gun to make a hole she could crawl out through. He counted stars and held her hand until the night was more quiet than she'd ever heard it.
The shovel stands tall in the fresh-turned earth, the only marker she can leave him. A hot breeze rustles the wheat, brushing against a face lined with years and toying with hair more gray than black. Unchanged, the shed in the middle of the wheat beckons to her and she is not surprised to see a lift waiting inside. She does not look back as the door slams behind her.
There are no words passed between them when they meet again in her chamber. Perhaps the machine feels sorry in her own way, but it doesn't matter. Both know why she is back and it seems fitting.
Her legs are still strong, feet toughened by the years. A distant memory of antiseptic rooms with smudges of mold between the panels flits through her mind but she can't bring herself to care. She suspects things have been rearranged when she comes to an unmarked but familiar wooden door far sooner than expected. The room inside is fresh and new, the carpet soft under foot and the sheets on the bed crisp. There is no television or painting on the wall, just a radio on the nightstand.
Settling into the mattress, she turns the radio on to hear a song she's only heard once before. She doesn't understand the words but she suspects that, as it was in the past, this is a good-bye. She presses her fingers to her lips and then to the radio's smooth surface.
Thank you.
Looking up at the blank ceiling, waiting, the tears begin to fall. It's only been half a day. She didn't know until now that he was what she lived for.
Over the pounding in her ears she can hear a gentle hiss. Her mind grows foggy and her body begins to weigh her down. As she slips into what feels like sleep, she sees his face once more and smiles.
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Will you be turning your talents to any other fills? I would love to read more of the subtle, classy yet totally hot way you have of writing about Chell bringing Wheatley off...
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I don't have any plans to continue with more fills, alas. Ironically, I'm an asexual lesbian, so while I find this sort of writing to be a fun challenge, it's also very draining. I wanted to at least finish this one, though, since it resonated with more people than any of my other Portal-based fics. I posted all of my Portal fics to my FF.net account if you're curious about some of the other fills, though. :)
http://www.fanfiction.net/u/27390/Razzek_Mecotl
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You have a great way of showing the passage of time (and implying what goes on and how characters slowly change) by little details rather than explicit statements. It makes your writing so much more poignant, and it was often those details that made me cry.
Your writing style does leave some (minor) ambiguities (although maybe that's just me), but that doesn't make it any less beautiful.
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You are amazingly talented, and I'm going to go finish my cry now.
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