Prompt Post - Part Nine [CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS]
THIS PART IS NOW CLOSED. YOU CAN CONTINUE POSTING FILLS, BUT PLEASE PROMPT ALL NEW THINGS HERE.
Part one here!
Part two here!
Part three here!
Part four here!
Part five here!
Part six here!
Part seven here!
Part eight here!
Feel free to reprompt posts from previous parts once. If you do so, I'd recommend leaving a link to your fill on the original prompt, ( Read more... )
It had never been thrown away before. It had been blown off, torn off, slipped off, washed off, pulled off, wrenched off, tugged off, but there had never been an away. Away meant separation, meant that the hat would not be retrieved, meant that it was a now a symbol in an argument it had previously only been witness to, meant that Speedy wanted him no longer.
It was this last that resonated slowly through the hat, slowly like treacle on a cold morning, slowly like unwilling dread and dismal fear, for not being wanted is anathema to anything that is Real. Being Real comes from being wanted, being needed, and not being wanted was quite the worst thing to happen to the hat, and is quite the worst thing to happen to any beloved Real object - that discarded toy, that destroyed ship, that lost necklace.
It hoped a mistake had been made, that its boy - its person, its maker, its Speedy - would realise, and would return to pick it up, place it where it belonged, but no such thing happened. Instead Speedy left, anger and disappointment trailing in his wake, and though the hat cared little for the others present - for it was Speedy's, not theirs, though it retained some care for Green Arrow, creator of both itself and its person - when they too left - all in a hurry - it found itself wishing they might return as well. Even being retrieved by a stranger would be better than lying, abandoned, forgotten, upon a cold floor.
Time passed, and the hat lay in sunlight for a while, physical warmth doing little to remove the chill that lay upon it, the chill of being left. No footsteps approached, no people came near, and the hat still lay, battered feather trailing sadly across the floor. The sun moved on, moved away, and the hat still lay, bright against a neutral floor, a symbol of constance now discarded.
Was being Real worth it, when it ended like this?
The hat knew nothing of events elsewhere, of friendships forged, a life begun and a team created. It knew only that its person was gone - gone away - and that it remained behind.
Time passed, and night came, a cool moon shining upon the hat as it shone upon a destroyed laboratory, and the hat lay still, the cavernous quiet pressing around it.
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"Well. Looks like we're in the same boat, you and me." Another sigh. The hat lay, slowly being warmed by body heat, soft, compliant, as alone as the man. "And I'm reduced to talking to a hat. Dinah will laugh."
The thought 'I wish Roy would' was unvoiced, but the hat heard it all the same. Objects are good at hearing what people do not say.
With another sigh - this one with the weight of the world behind it - Green Arrow tucked the hat into his belt, and left. Behind him, the moon shone into an empty room, cold as the grave, silent as space.
Home was equally as cold, as quiet, as abandoned, and the silence seemed more oppressive, for home should not be this way. The hat longed for laughter and pranks, for being casually tossed atop the rest of the costume as civilians reasserted themselves over heroes, longed for the smells of experimental cooking and the sights of family. Instead, there was the flickering of a light-switch and then it was placed upon a shelf. A hand stroked across it again, looking for reassurance, for something the hat could not give except when being worn, for alone it was merely a hat. A Real hat, perhaps, but there seemed little use in being Real now.
The hat was carefully shifted upon the shelf, angled so the feather was clearly visible through the large windows, and it was aware of Green Arrow staring at it. The moment stretched, both hat and man equally lost, equally abandoned, and then the man shook his head, hunched his shoulders, and left the room. Sounds of his progress drifted through the house, and the hat was lying alone once more in the moonlight. The light was still cold, still pale, and yet this time, the hat had been placed, not thrown. Not thrown away, but retained. Retrieved, in fact, by one who wished Speedy would return just as much as it did.
The sounds of Green Arrow grew louder again, and he returned, hair damp, eyes still sad, to sit upon the couch. He perched at the end, every line in his body tense, entirely unlike his usual positioning of himself squarely in the middle, loose and sprawled, and turned his gaze towards the windows. They were the customary entry-point for any costumed hero, whether they lived in the house or not, and so Green Arrow waited. As did Speedy's hat, and though it could not be said that they understood each other, they provided obscure comfort for the other as they waited.
And waited.
And waited.
They would wait forever, if they had to, the mentor, the hero, the father, and the hat, the symbol, the reminder, for Speedy would come home. He would not come as Speedy, he might not come for years, he might not come willingly nor happily, but when he did, there would be two waiting for him.
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I... don't even know what this is. I've just written almost 2500 words about a Velveteen Rabbit style hat. Excuse me, I just need to go off and complete my descent into insanity now by dancing in this river wearing a dinosaur costume. Don't mind me. (Also, I can't judge comment length)
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The 'Real' objects concept is gorgeous, and my favorite line is, "Objects are good at hearing what people do not say."
The two fills are very different, and difference is what we want from multiple fills. This is so unique. Thanks for sharing. Insane is clearly an awesome state of mind.
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