Pear 25 + Carrot Cake 13
Author: C
Rating: PGish
Wordcount: 242
Story / World: Slate, unknown and sai'da, Various but mostly pre-LEC
Challenges: Pear 25: his & hers + Carrot Cake 13: fly
Toppings / Extras: Chopped Nuts
Notes: I might have to work with the AU mentioned more. Why her feet reminded her that humans are ~*fragile snowflakes*~ I don't truly know, but I can parse the logic behind it.
She considered her feet, rubbing near-translucent skin over blue-green veins, something like the corner of a wet piece of thin paper at the edge of her mind. The thought flew through her head and she shivered, which was a mistake. That served to let everything in.
- - -
And she had said she would tell them nothing and she had said she would not scream. They had not said anything. Telling them nothing was the easy part: there wasn’t anything she knew.
As pertained to screaming she held out fairly well, at least for a while. They got to her in the end, of course, as they do to all.
- - -
The girl couldn’t describe the voices, she’d never been able to. But she could do them, when asked.
She asked, “What’re these scars?” for the second, and looked over and down, abashed, as the first would.
The idea was coming clear now.
- - -
“But that’s wrong,” he informed the plastic tablecloth, dissatisfied. “That’s entirely wrong. What are you playing at?”
- - -
Halimeda’s shoulders slumped, back curling into the c-shape that would earn her parental reprimand if she wasn’t alone. She drummed her fingers on black plastic, caught herself.
There was a scene at the heart of it that seemed to have been the point: she could see it clearly, though the colors were vague and gauzy.
Her fingers twitched.
- - -
(That one is woven in everywhere, of course. You just aren’t looking hard enough.)
Rating: PGish
Wordcount: 242
Story / World: Slate, unknown and sai'da, Various but mostly pre-LEC
Challenges: Pear 25: his & hers + Carrot Cake 13: fly
Toppings / Extras: Chopped Nuts
Notes: I might have to work with the AU mentioned more. Why her feet reminded her that humans are ~*fragile snowflakes*~ I don't truly know, but I can parse the logic behind it.
She considered her feet, rubbing near-translucent skin over blue-green veins, something like the corner of a wet piece of thin paper at the edge of her mind. The thought flew through her head and she shivered, which was a mistake. That served to let everything in.
- - -
And she had said she would tell them nothing and she had said she would not scream. They had not said anything. Telling them nothing was the easy part: there wasn’t anything she knew.
As pertained to screaming she held out fairly well, at least for a while. They got to her in the end, of course, as they do to all.
- - -
The girl couldn’t describe the voices, she’d never been able to. But she could do them, when asked.
She asked, “What’re these scars?” for the second, and looked over and down, abashed, as the first would.
The idea was coming clear now.
- - -
“But that’s wrong,” he informed the plastic tablecloth, dissatisfied. “That’s entirely wrong. What are you playing at?”
- - -
Halimeda’s shoulders slumped, back curling into the c-shape that would earn her parental reprimand if she wasn’t alone. She drummed her fingers on black plastic, caught herself.
There was a scene at the heart of it that seemed to have been the point: she could see it clearly, though the colors were vague and gauzy.
Her fingers twitched.
- - -
(That one is woven in everywhere, of course. You just aren’t looking hard enough.)