(no subject)
Characters: wars_stars
Prompt: 005. Outsides.
Word Count: 304
Rating: G
Orion liked the outdoors, especially the woods. On weekends, he'd pack lunch and a book and hike out to the woods on his family's farm, curling up in some slightly-damp hollow in the trees, by Three-Tree or the Soul Pine- his family had always liked to name things.
Autumn was his favourite time for this, to be surrounded by the glowing colours with the crisp snap in the air. The aspens were gold, mountain ashes dusky red, other trees brown and red-purple, colours that shouldn't match looking perfect together. He knew where a crabapple tree was, and he'd eat them with abandon when they were ripe, munching and reading, perched on a half-rotten log beneath it.
Occasionally he'd go mushroom hunting, even though he hated them, examining them carefully before he would pick them, making sure he got the ones that wouldn't kill him and his family, although he loved finding a deadly angel or false morels, just so he could grin to himself about how he'd avoided that.
The woods had berries, but by that time they were mostly gone to birds or animals, although blueberries and cranberries were just coming ripe and he could usually find at least a few, eating the former and saving the latter.
There were wildflowers, too, indian paintbrush and asters and goldenrod, that he loved to pick. He didn't care if he wasn't supposed to enjoy flowers as much as he did- he made bunches for his mother (his sisters were allergic), and enjoy them while they sat around their tiny kitchen.
In the winter, he wasn't out much. The woods were a long way to walk in -40 and the snow made it impractical. He and his family would sled in their yard, or make cities out of the snow, decorated with the icicles that hung down.
Outsides? Definitely preferable to insides.
Prompt: 005. Outsides.
Word Count: 304
Rating: G
Orion liked the outdoors, especially the woods. On weekends, he'd pack lunch and a book and hike out to the woods on his family's farm, curling up in some slightly-damp hollow in the trees, by Three-Tree or the Soul Pine- his family had always liked to name things.
Autumn was his favourite time for this, to be surrounded by the glowing colours with the crisp snap in the air. The aspens were gold, mountain ashes dusky red, other trees brown and red-purple, colours that shouldn't match looking perfect together. He knew where a crabapple tree was, and he'd eat them with abandon when they were ripe, munching and reading, perched on a half-rotten log beneath it.
Occasionally he'd go mushroom hunting, even though he hated them, examining them carefully before he would pick them, making sure he got the ones that wouldn't kill him and his family, although he loved finding a deadly angel or false morels, just so he could grin to himself about how he'd avoided that.
The woods had berries, but by that time they were mostly gone to birds or animals, although blueberries and cranberries were just coming ripe and he could usually find at least a few, eating the former and saving the latter.
There were wildflowers, too, indian paintbrush and asters and goldenrod, that he loved to pick. He didn't care if he wasn't supposed to enjoy flowers as much as he did- he made bunches for his mother (his sisters were allergic), and enjoy them while they sat around their tiny kitchen.
In the winter, he wasn't out much. The woods were a long way to walk in -40 and the snow made it impractical. He and his family would sled in their yard, or make cities out of the snow, decorated with the icicles that hung down.
Outsides? Definitely preferable to insides.