20 - Nature
Title: Nature
Team: Longcoats
Rating: Teen
Characters: Wyatt/DG/Glitch, Chessa
Notes: Lilies 'Verse, yes?
Length: 443. Yes, at this point, I am giving up on the whole word count thing...
Challenge: 20, Stick
-x-
Early in the morning, DG left the house. She walked to the city of Issilthrush, unable to abide riding a horse, unable to drive Wyatt’s rusty old truck. Pedestrians travelled the pavements, one direction or another, like she, with an aim in mind. They didn’t care who she was: they had a philosophy about her. She was a citizen of their own, an entity of royalty, certainly, but respected-revered or ignored, she thought, unable to tell. She was the plain princess. She hadn’t her sister’s beauty. No eyes rested on her too long. And with Mother-the new baby-a prince, they said-due in a few months, DG would be the middle sibling, neither too great nor too small. The middle.
‘Can’t you stick a cork in it, DG? Get a grip…’ The sayings were erratic, always deprecating. No voice inside her head stopped to ask, ‘Sweetheart, are you okay?’ She would’ve said yes, anyway.
The doctor, sympathetic and soft-eyed, answered no questions, fabricated no lies. She had been right, after all: the wrong blood, too soon, not the right time. But there were no needles to endure, no suffering but her own. She asked how it had happened. So many precautions, so many chances before, why then… That’s when he patted her shoulder.
‘Nature has a way…’ and there ended the adage. DG filled it in on her way out the door.
How was she supposed to tell them? Would she have to tell them? Would it show on her face, in bed, the next time Glitch kissed her palm or Wyatt held her waist?
Nearly colliding with a figure in cover-alls, DG murmured apologies, her mind spans aloft. But she found it was Chessa Cain, the “honey-do” completer of work around town.
‘I’m on break,’ Chessa said. ‘The glories of self-employment. You look like you need a break, too.’
DG consented, to avoid going home, avoid the words and the confession. They dined at the Hopscotch Café, speaking first of idle things-sealing wax and whether pigs have wings-before Chessa’s disconcerting stare crumbled DG to tears.
Chessa escorted her into the truck, tools and ladders and spare parts littering the back-and took her home. Glitch was awake, prancing in the garden with Chimtu, and Wyatt was inside, tousle-headed and yawning. Chessa lingered, symbolic in strength, the nurturing sisterly spirit of sufferance, and fixed breakfast while encouraging DG to talk. Whatever the three of them said, walking through the dewy grass, Chessa didn’t care to know. She looked up one moment, to see her uncle embrace DG, and caught Glitch saying the words ‘Sweetheart, it’s going to be okay.’
Team: Longcoats
Rating: Teen
Characters: Wyatt/DG/Glitch, Chessa
Notes: Lilies 'Verse, yes?
Length: 443. Yes, at this point, I am giving up on the whole word count thing...
Challenge: 20, Stick
-x-
Early in the morning, DG left the house. She walked to the city of Issilthrush, unable to abide riding a horse, unable to drive Wyatt’s rusty old truck. Pedestrians travelled the pavements, one direction or another, like she, with an aim in mind. They didn’t care who she was: they had a philosophy about her. She was a citizen of their own, an entity of royalty, certainly, but respected-revered or ignored, she thought, unable to tell. She was the plain princess. She hadn’t her sister’s beauty. No eyes rested on her too long. And with Mother-the new baby-a prince, they said-due in a few months, DG would be the middle sibling, neither too great nor too small. The middle.
‘Can’t you stick a cork in it, DG? Get a grip…’ The sayings were erratic, always deprecating. No voice inside her head stopped to ask, ‘Sweetheart, are you okay?’ She would’ve said yes, anyway.
The doctor, sympathetic and soft-eyed, answered no questions, fabricated no lies. She had been right, after all: the wrong blood, too soon, not the right time. But there were no needles to endure, no suffering but her own. She asked how it had happened. So many precautions, so many chances before, why then… That’s when he patted her shoulder.
‘Nature has a way…’ and there ended the adage. DG filled it in on her way out the door.
How was she supposed to tell them? Would she have to tell them? Would it show on her face, in bed, the next time Glitch kissed her palm or Wyatt held her waist?
Nearly colliding with a figure in cover-alls, DG murmured apologies, her mind spans aloft. But she found it was Chessa Cain, the “honey-do” completer of work around town.
‘I’m on break,’ Chessa said. ‘The glories of self-employment. You look like you need a break, too.’
DG consented, to avoid going home, avoid the words and the confession. They dined at the Hopscotch Café, speaking first of idle things-sealing wax and whether pigs have wings-before Chessa’s disconcerting stare crumbled DG to tears.
Chessa escorted her into the truck, tools and ladders and spare parts littering the back-and took her home. Glitch was awake, prancing in the garden with Chimtu, and Wyatt was inside, tousle-headed and yawning. Chessa lingered, symbolic in strength, the nurturing sisterly spirit of sufferance, and fixed breakfast while encouraging DG to talk. Whatever the three of them said, walking through the dewy grass, Chessa didn’t care to know. She looked up one moment, to see her uncle embrace DG, and caught Glitch saying the words ‘Sweetheart, it’s going to be okay.’