Tactility
Author: RavanaSnape
Title: Tactility
Prompt: 023 (Lovers)
Rating: R for implied sexual situations and slash
Length: 374 words
Summary: Distractions are not for her...
She liked libraries, she liked the silence. Sometimes her friends would come, giggling, and drag her out into the sunshine. She liked that too - the sharp tang of autumn and the heat of the summer. It was just that she preferred dust and books and manuscripts more.
As she grew older it wasn’t just her friends who dragged her from her eyrie. First boys, nervous and pimpled, and then, after a gradual realisation, girls also coaxed her outside. The seasons came and went and she learnt new languages, ones that could not be explained away in ancient tomes. She learnt how to read shoulders: hunched, arched, and stretched. Each pose contained a different meaning, a new riddle for her to decipher. Her favourite were the lips and jaw lines. On men they were stubborn, strong and fierce, with slight quirks at the corner allowing for gentle laughter and misplaced humour. For women it was the reverse; they were all smooth edges, soft skin and it was only when you looked closer and saw the press of full lips into something stern, forbidding and dangerous, that you realised there was steely determination and anger hidden behind the enticement.
She flew like a swallow through all of their lives, wheeling in and out, darting here and there. She never stayed long, always preferring to return to her knowledge, the hidden meanings that drove her onwards and upwards. She had to find meaning in everything, and after a while humans became as easy to read as the most basic grimoire. The words however, they constantly changed. Whilst Wittgenstein was right, about their finite application, there were still more than she knew what to do with and they intrigued her.
Barely twenty, she threw herself into her work, pausing for no one and nothing. Soon she finds herself nearing the end, reaching the finite capacity. Yet it is here the whispers solidify. The rumours have been growing in her literature since she was a girl, rumours of a wild, untameable knowledge, which surpasses all she had ever dreamed of. The girl, now a woman, sets her teeth and attacks the manuscripts with gusto. She will hunt it out, chase it down, and discover the knowledge. At any price.
Title: Tactility
Prompt: 023 (Lovers)
Rating: R for implied sexual situations and slash
Length: 374 words
Summary: Distractions are not for her...
She liked libraries, she liked the silence. Sometimes her friends would come, giggling, and drag her out into the sunshine. She liked that too - the sharp tang of autumn and the heat of the summer. It was just that she preferred dust and books and manuscripts more.
As she grew older it wasn’t just her friends who dragged her from her eyrie. First boys, nervous and pimpled, and then, after a gradual realisation, girls also coaxed her outside. The seasons came and went and she learnt new languages, ones that could not be explained away in ancient tomes. She learnt how to read shoulders: hunched, arched, and stretched. Each pose contained a different meaning, a new riddle for her to decipher. Her favourite were the lips and jaw lines. On men they were stubborn, strong and fierce, with slight quirks at the corner allowing for gentle laughter and misplaced humour. For women it was the reverse; they were all smooth edges, soft skin and it was only when you looked closer and saw the press of full lips into something stern, forbidding and dangerous, that you realised there was steely determination and anger hidden behind the enticement.
She flew like a swallow through all of their lives, wheeling in and out, darting here and there. She never stayed long, always preferring to return to her knowledge, the hidden meanings that drove her onwards and upwards. She had to find meaning in everything, and after a while humans became as easy to read as the most basic grimoire. The words however, they constantly changed. Whilst Wittgenstein was right, about their finite application, there were still more than she knew what to do with and they intrigued her.
Barely twenty, she threw herself into her work, pausing for no one and nothing. Soon she finds herself nearing the end, reaching the finite capacity. Yet it is here the whispers solidify. The rumours have been growing in her literature since she was a girl, rumours of a wild, untameable knowledge, which surpasses all she had ever dreamed of. The girl, now a woman, sets her teeth and attacks the manuscripts with gusto. She will hunt it out, chase it down, and discover the knowledge. At any price.