Fic: We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
Much of the Skins fandom has been infested with Katie/Effy lately. Totally in a good way though. I'm really fascinated by them, and I can't wait to see what happens to them in the new season. Even more so than Naomily. They seem so resolved in comparison. I know that with a whole season there will be plenty of new drama for Naomi and Emily. But Katie and Effy have this infinite potential for anger, angst, love, violence, sadness. So I'm diving into their world for a bit.
This little fic is some first-person Katie POV, I imagine it a few weeks after the series 3 finale.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed in seaweed red and brown
‘Til human voices wake us, and we drown.
-The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, T.S. Eliot
“I can’t stand this. I’m a person, I’m not you.”
It had been so easy for her to say. Despite years of living in my shadow, Emily never really lost her personality. She just chose to give way, to not stand out. But what’s a person without a shadow? I’ll tell you, they’re incomplete. Now I’m the one who’s fading. Like the colour bled out of me through that fucking wound in my temple.
It’s not like the whole world has changed. Since I finally left my room for the Love Ball, I’ve been going out again as usual. Getting drunk as well, though I was never one for getting totally pissed like the rest of them. It’s just that now, instead of dancing with Freddie, laughing with Effy and Panda, shoving Cook away from my arse, I’m sitting in corners. Emily is the one in the center of everything, with Naomi openly attached to her tits.
No, Emily isn’t the same person as me. Yeah, she was always in the background. But I always made sure she was following me.
When I was dating someone, I always tried to hook her up with one of their friends. I should have realized why she never wanted any of the fit boys that were flocking around us. So she’s smarter than me too. That’s the fucking problem. She’s smart, pretty, she can bake fucking awesome cakes. She’s in better shape than me. The only thing I ever wanted was to be popular, but now that’s gone too. She’s a lesbian, different, interesting. And I’m just the tarty sister in the animal print.
So I sit in corners, waiting for her to notice. The more I fade into the background, the less she seems to care. I find myself repeating “I’m not Emily, I’m not Emily” over and over under my breath. That smile on her face, I could swear she stole it right off mine. But we’re not the same person, because that look in her eyes, when she stares up at her girlfriend, that’s something I’ve never had. Just one more thing she has up on me. Love.
True love is fucking all around, apparently. The truant rock-throwers have returned and Effy’s finally given in to Freddie’s pathetic, longing stares. Well that’s something someone can take away from me and fucking welcome. They’re perfect for each other: she says nothing and he has nothing to say. They can go get fucking high and stare at each other all day long for all I care.
But they aren’t just staring at each other, they’re back with the group. Forgiven, apparently. No, Emily and I aren’t the same person. I would never forgive anyone who hurt her. But Effy has an excuse, Effy was tripping on mushrooms, unlike me. Why would I fight with her if I wasn’t high too? Again, Effy’s magical and Emily’s the better person. The better version of me. I can’t stand it. Maybe Cook has the right idea.
Cook doesn’t come around. Maybe he has better things to do, maybe he just doesn’t like to torture himself. As I nurse my stupid fruity cocktail in a corner, I wonder if, on top of pathetic, I’m masochistic as well. Fuck them all. Fuck Emily. Maybe if I start staying home she’ll notice something’s still wrong.
I don’t though. I can’t stay away. They’ll notice, she will.
Emily doesn’t look at me. She only has eyes for Naomi Campbell. Where’s a shoe or a cell phone when I need one? But Effy notices, maybe. I feel like she’s watching me, but I never quite catch her at it. Pathetic, masochistic, paranoid. God, I’m not even drunk enough.
I go to the bar again, and something is different tonight. Cook’s here. Talking to Freddie, handing him something. Little bags of drugs. Maybe that’s where he’s been, dealing. Finally, something he’s good for. I grab my drink. It’s sealed then, tonight I’m getting truly fucked.
“Welcome back.” I’m right behind Cook, he turns around startled. Even this desperate bastard didn’t notice me.
“Katiekins,” he grins, “long time no see. Ready to party?”
“Are you? Show me what you’ve got Cook.” It’s easy to play cocky with him, his eyes don’t smile either. We should be the fucking twins. Plastic fucking smiles, searching for our fucking shadows. We split a bag between us, of his uncle’s special mix of whatever. Cook’s working the pub and the drugs for him this summer. Maybe I’ll just start spending my days wasted with the old men. With the dark circles under my eyes these days I could probably pass for forty at least.
My nose twitches. I’d forgotten just how strong this shit is. My head’s already buzzing, I’m feeling good for the first time in forever. I try to breathe deep, to calm down and just enjoy it, but that only makes me sneeze. Cook laughs, I flip him off. He sneezes too. I manage half of a real smile. We do shots next, it’s way more than is good for me. I’m well trashed, spinning like a fucking top. So of course Cook pulls me out to the dance floor now. He’s just as bad, all over me, as much for support as pleasure. It’s déjà vu, only… that was Emily, not me. Not me. But god, as trashed as he is, he’s managing to get all the right places. His mouth is hungry on my neck. I bite my lip as every part of me begins to throb in time with the beat, his kisses, the tides, something. It’s rhythm all through me and I’m dancing like I’m good at it.
Déjà vu. She’s pulling me away. But it’s not Emily.
“What the fuck Effy?”
“You don’t want to be doing that.” I try to shake her hand off of my arm.
“Don’t touch me slut! What, are you jealous? I thought it was Freddie you wanted.” She just looks at me. “What? You can have him. It’s none of my business, and I’m none of yours!”
Her grip loosens. It’s just enough for me to pull away, but I only make a half-hearted attempt. What’s wrong with me?
It’s her eyes. I’ve never really looked into them before. They’re so blue, I have to catch my breath, make sure I’m not under water. I’m not, I can breathe, but now my mouth is as dry as the desert. I step back slowly, licking my lips, searching for moisture, for something to say to make this stop. She moves with me, hand still encircling my wrist so gently. My eyes are blinking rapid-fire. I can’t keep up this eye contact, I don’t want to drown.
“Effy…what the fuck…” It’s lame, I know it. But she’s swallowing my words with her stare. She blinks for what seems like the first time in years. I turn my head quickly, while the spell broken.
“Katie.” Not looking. Just not.
It only takes an instant for the space between us to close. Her head tips, we’re face to face. Then she kisses me.
People talk about perfect kisses. Open mouths. Moist, searching tongues. Fireworks. Being kissed by Effy is nothing like that. Her tongue doesn’t plead for entrance, it pushes, insinuates. Tests you and finds you wanting. Her teeth are on my lip, I taste the salt of flesh or blood. There are no explosions. Sound is muffled, but there is a gentle, persistent throb. Like having your ear to a seashell, or the heartbeat in someone’s chest.
I should be pushing her away. But my hands against her chest turn to groping rather than shoving. She pulls me in closer by my ass. I hadn’t thought there was even a centimeter of space between us. There’s a rumbling in her throat, a sound of pure desire.
No. I don’t want to be drawn into the fucking orbit of Effy Stonem, just like everyone else. It hurts to pull my lips away, and they throb worse afterwards, but I manage it.
“Effy, what are we doing?”
Her voice is disembodied against my ear, for me alone, “Exactly what we would have been doing if I hadn’t been tripping.”
“No, we were fighting, one way or another. You were trying to steal from me.” Just like Emily.
“I never try.”
She’s right. Even now, we’re just crashing into each other. Inexorable as the ocean and the shore. I can’t help it, I look into her eyes again. They’re open so wide. I lick my lips, and in a second she seizes my tongue, invades my senses again. I close my eyes, and it feels like floating. I still don’t want to kiss her, I hate her. But I can’t help it. It’s like gravity. Or like being in the water with too many clothes on. I was never a good swimmer.
“Katie!”
“Effy!”
Emily and Freddie shout virtually in unison. I start, but Effy lingers, pulling back slowly and looking over her shoulder without letting go of me.
“Fuck,” I mutter. The corner of Effy’s mouth twitches. Freddie and Emily’s questions are tumbling over each other, getting lost in the noise of the crowd. It doesn’t matter. I don’t have any answers for them, and Effy obviously chooses not to even try. She’s looking at me again, and I don’t bother trying to look away. I can almost see the reflection of my eyes shining in hers. Turning her blue eyes into murky, inescapable depths.
I am not Emily. But maybe we are more alike than we will ever know.
This little fic is some first-person Katie POV, I imagine it a few weeks after the series 3 finale.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed in seaweed red and brown
‘Til human voices wake us, and we drown.
-The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, T.S. Eliot
“I can’t stand this. I’m a person, I’m not you.”
It had been so easy for her to say. Despite years of living in my shadow, Emily never really lost her personality. She just chose to give way, to not stand out. But what’s a person without a shadow? I’ll tell you, they’re incomplete. Now I’m the one who’s fading. Like the colour bled out of me through that fucking wound in my temple.
It’s not like the whole world has changed. Since I finally left my room for the Love Ball, I’ve been going out again as usual. Getting drunk as well, though I was never one for getting totally pissed like the rest of them. It’s just that now, instead of dancing with Freddie, laughing with Effy and Panda, shoving Cook away from my arse, I’m sitting in corners. Emily is the one in the center of everything, with Naomi openly attached to her tits.
No, Emily isn’t the same person as me. Yeah, she was always in the background. But I always made sure she was following me.
When I was dating someone, I always tried to hook her up with one of their friends. I should have realized why she never wanted any of the fit boys that were flocking around us. So she’s smarter than me too. That’s the fucking problem. She’s smart, pretty, she can bake fucking awesome cakes. She’s in better shape than me. The only thing I ever wanted was to be popular, but now that’s gone too. She’s a lesbian, different, interesting. And I’m just the tarty sister in the animal print.
So I sit in corners, waiting for her to notice. The more I fade into the background, the less she seems to care. I find myself repeating “I’m not Emily, I’m not Emily” over and over under my breath. That smile on her face, I could swear she stole it right off mine. But we’re not the same person, because that look in her eyes, when she stares up at her girlfriend, that’s something I’ve never had. Just one more thing she has up on me. Love.
True love is fucking all around, apparently. The truant rock-throwers have returned and Effy’s finally given in to Freddie’s pathetic, longing stares. Well that’s something someone can take away from me and fucking welcome. They’re perfect for each other: she says nothing and he has nothing to say. They can go get fucking high and stare at each other all day long for all I care.
But they aren’t just staring at each other, they’re back with the group. Forgiven, apparently. No, Emily and I aren’t the same person. I would never forgive anyone who hurt her. But Effy has an excuse, Effy was tripping on mushrooms, unlike me. Why would I fight with her if I wasn’t high too? Again, Effy’s magical and Emily’s the better person. The better version of me. I can’t stand it. Maybe Cook has the right idea.
Cook doesn’t come around. Maybe he has better things to do, maybe he just doesn’t like to torture himself. As I nurse my stupid fruity cocktail in a corner, I wonder if, on top of pathetic, I’m masochistic as well. Fuck them all. Fuck Emily. Maybe if I start staying home she’ll notice something’s still wrong.
I don’t though. I can’t stay away. They’ll notice, she will.
Emily doesn’t look at me. She only has eyes for Naomi Campbell. Where’s a shoe or a cell phone when I need one? But Effy notices, maybe. I feel like she’s watching me, but I never quite catch her at it. Pathetic, masochistic, paranoid. God, I’m not even drunk enough.
I go to the bar again, and something is different tonight. Cook’s here. Talking to Freddie, handing him something. Little bags of drugs. Maybe that’s where he’s been, dealing. Finally, something he’s good for. I grab my drink. It’s sealed then, tonight I’m getting truly fucked.
“Welcome back.” I’m right behind Cook, he turns around startled. Even this desperate bastard didn’t notice me.
“Katiekins,” he grins, “long time no see. Ready to party?”
“Are you? Show me what you’ve got Cook.” It’s easy to play cocky with him, his eyes don’t smile either. We should be the fucking twins. Plastic fucking smiles, searching for our fucking shadows. We split a bag between us, of his uncle’s special mix of whatever. Cook’s working the pub and the drugs for him this summer. Maybe I’ll just start spending my days wasted with the old men. With the dark circles under my eyes these days I could probably pass for forty at least.
My nose twitches. I’d forgotten just how strong this shit is. My head’s already buzzing, I’m feeling good for the first time in forever. I try to breathe deep, to calm down and just enjoy it, but that only makes me sneeze. Cook laughs, I flip him off. He sneezes too. I manage half of a real smile. We do shots next, it’s way more than is good for me. I’m well trashed, spinning like a fucking top. So of course Cook pulls me out to the dance floor now. He’s just as bad, all over me, as much for support as pleasure. It’s déjà vu, only… that was Emily, not me. Not me. But god, as trashed as he is, he’s managing to get all the right places. His mouth is hungry on my neck. I bite my lip as every part of me begins to throb in time with the beat, his kisses, the tides, something. It’s rhythm all through me and I’m dancing like I’m good at it.
Déjà vu. She’s pulling me away. But it’s not Emily.
“What the fuck Effy?”
“You don’t want to be doing that.” I try to shake her hand off of my arm.
“Don’t touch me slut! What, are you jealous? I thought it was Freddie you wanted.” She just looks at me. “What? You can have him. It’s none of my business, and I’m none of yours!”
Her grip loosens. It’s just enough for me to pull away, but I only make a half-hearted attempt. What’s wrong with me?
It’s her eyes. I’ve never really looked into them before. They’re so blue, I have to catch my breath, make sure I’m not under water. I’m not, I can breathe, but now my mouth is as dry as the desert. I step back slowly, licking my lips, searching for moisture, for something to say to make this stop. She moves with me, hand still encircling my wrist so gently. My eyes are blinking rapid-fire. I can’t keep up this eye contact, I don’t want to drown.
“Effy…what the fuck…” It’s lame, I know it. But she’s swallowing my words with her stare. She blinks for what seems like the first time in years. I turn my head quickly, while the spell broken.
“Katie.” Not looking. Just not.
It only takes an instant for the space between us to close. Her head tips, we’re face to face. Then she kisses me.
People talk about perfect kisses. Open mouths. Moist, searching tongues. Fireworks. Being kissed by Effy is nothing like that. Her tongue doesn’t plead for entrance, it pushes, insinuates. Tests you and finds you wanting. Her teeth are on my lip, I taste the salt of flesh or blood. There are no explosions. Sound is muffled, but there is a gentle, persistent throb. Like having your ear to a seashell, or the heartbeat in someone’s chest.
I should be pushing her away. But my hands against her chest turn to groping rather than shoving. She pulls me in closer by my ass. I hadn’t thought there was even a centimeter of space between us. There’s a rumbling in her throat, a sound of pure desire.
No. I don’t want to be drawn into the fucking orbit of Effy Stonem, just like everyone else. It hurts to pull my lips away, and they throb worse afterwards, but I manage it.
“Effy, what are we doing?”
Her voice is disembodied against my ear, for me alone, “Exactly what we would have been doing if I hadn’t been tripping.”
“No, we were fighting, one way or another. You were trying to steal from me.” Just like Emily.
“I never try.”
She’s right. Even now, we’re just crashing into each other. Inexorable as the ocean and the shore. I can’t help it, I look into her eyes again. They’re open so wide. I lick my lips, and in a second she seizes my tongue, invades my senses again. I close my eyes, and it feels like floating. I still don’t want to kiss her, I hate her. But I can’t help it. It’s like gravity. Or like being in the water with too many clothes on. I was never a good swimmer.
“Katie!”
“Effy!”
Emily and Freddie shout virtually in unison. I start, but Effy lingers, pulling back slowly and looking over her shoulder without letting go of me.
“Fuck,” I mutter. The corner of Effy’s mouth twitches. Freddie and Emily’s questions are tumbling over each other, getting lost in the noise of the crowd. It doesn’t matter. I don’t have any answers for them, and Effy obviously chooses not to even try. She’s looking at me again, and I don’t bother trying to look away. I can almost see the reflection of my eyes shining in hers. Turning her blue eyes into murky, inescapable depths.
I am not Emily. But maybe we are more alike than we will ever know.