'large, fluffy, falling snow' - Swallow's Tail, Petrovich and SaschataennynJanuary 19 2009, 19:46:41 UTC
He didn't think he was ever going to get used to ice just . . falling from the sky, in big pale lattices you could practically see.
He was sitting at the top of the Swallow's ramp, in about half his outdoor gear so he didn't get cold, when Sascha came back, ice caked around the heavy treads of his boots and big crystals of it perched in his dreadlocks. He looked like something out of a story, though heaven only knew what kind"Lev," the Siberian said, nodding a greeting when he set foot on the ramp
( ... )
'piano scales played slowly' - Wild Roses, AodhtaennynJanuary 19 2009, 21:34:12 UTC
He sits with his legs folded up underneath himself on the bench, thinking that there are a dozen other places he could be, right now, diving through the middle of someone else's war, curled up in someone's bed, playing at dice with off-duty officers, but instead he's sitting here, at the piano of a woman who's been dead so long that it's hard to wrap his head around, years slipping like oil and water through his mind.
Without really meaning to, he reaches out, starts playing scales from the deepest to the highest, slow but without pausing. There's no jazz in his fingers tonight, no syncopation or triplets, no laughter. This Queen and both her sons are dead, and he's played this piano so often some of the staff are convinced there's a musical will-o'-the-wisp, but it's still Brighid's piano, and he is just a latecomer playing it.
'the smell of salted meat frying' - Nataraj, Luke and SamuiltaennynJanuary 19 2009, 23:01:25 UTC
When he woke up, there was a pervading smell of bacon and ham wafting through the room, and his stomach heaved a protest just before his head informed that one, he'd been drinking last night, and two, that had bee a really bad idea.
There was a glass of water on his nightstand that he didn't remember putting there, and what appeared to be one of his B12 pills from the medicine cabinet.
He was going to kill Luke, just as soon as he could move.
piano scales played slowly
the smell of salted meat frying
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He was sitting at the top of the Swallow's ramp, in about half his outdoor gear so he didn't get cold, when Sascha came back, ice caked around the heavy treads of his boots and big crystals of it perched in his dreadlocks. He looked like something out of a story, though heaven only knew what kind"Lev," the Siberian said, nodding a greeting when he set foot on the ramp ( ... )
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I could so see those reactions, too. Very nicely done.
(you shoosh, at least I checked)
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Without really meaning to, he reaches out, starts playing scales from the deepest to the highest, slow but without pausing. There's no jazz in his fingers tonight, no syncopation or triplets, no laughter. This Queen and both her sons are dead, and he's played this piano so often some of the staff are convinced there's a musical will-o'-the-wisp, but it's still Brighid's piano, and he is just a latecomer playing it.
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[he is the will-o'-the-wisp! neat detail.]
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There was a glass of water on his nightstand that he didn't remember putting there, and what appeared to be one of his B12 pills from the medicine cabinet.
He was going to kill Luke, just as soon as he could move.
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Either way, Rita has her face covered and is shaking her head at him. Poor Samuil.
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