(no subject)
Who: Digger Harkness and Pied Piper
Where: his house
When: Sunday morning
He was pulling on a lock of his hair, sitting on the couch with the books piled around him. Wrapping the wiry curl around and around his finger and then pulling it out, only to do it again and then smooth his thumb over the trapped strands thoughtfully. He was frowning and paging through the book he was reading slowly.
His two ratty friends were asleep on the back of the couch, and the windows were open to let a breeze in through the screens. It was a rather lazy Sunday and luckily Nicki had pulled one of her disappearing acts.
The television was on, but it was just playing background noise as far as Digger was concerned. He liked background noise. Especially either music or television. It offered an almost cheerful sound, that he didn't have to pay one hundred percent attention to. And, it was a sound he was no longer used to. It was a very human noise.
He liked it.
He'd woken about four or five in the morning with the dream that had disturbed him. In all actuality, it shouldn't have frightened him as much as it did. It felt like a 'warning' or something to him. Normally, his nightmares ran more toward the PTSD type of dreams where he dreamed of past tortures or pain. So this was not run of the mill for him. He'd already decided he'd keep a dream diary a few days ago, but this was the first real entry he'd made in it.
His good dreams though? The ones he loved the best? Were mundane to other people. He liked to dream about driving, doing dishes, talking to other people throughout the day, and working on things. Normal, human things, that... others took for granted. He appreciated every fucking mundane detail!
He clicked his tongue to himself, to some, it would sound like he was 'tsking' something. In reality he was cursing not finding what he wanted to find in the book. Well, one could suppose that was still tsking. But this was technically, profanity.
Where: his house
When: Sunday morning
He was pulling on a lock of his hair, sitting on the couch with the books piled around him. Wrapping the wiry curl around and around his finger and then pulling it out, only to do it again and then smooth his thumb over the trapped strands thoughtfully. He was frowning and paging through the book he was reading slowly.
His two ratty friends were asleep on the back of the couch, and the windows were open to let a breeze in through the screens. It was a rather lazy Sunday and luckily Nicki had pulled one of her disappearing acts.
The television was on, but it was just playing background noise as far as Digger was concerned. He liked background noise. Especially either music or television. It offered an almost cheerful sound, that he didn't have to pay one hundred percent attention to. And, it was a sound he was no longer used to. It was a very human noise.
He liked it.
He'd woken about four or five in the morning with the dream that had disturbed him. In all actuality, it shouldn't have frightened him as much as it did. It felt like a 'warning' or something to him. Normally, his nightmares ran more toward the PTSD type of dreams where he dreamed of past tortures or pain. So this was not run of the mill for him. He'd already decided he'd keep a dream diary a few days ago, but this was the first real entry he'd made in it.
His good dreams though? The ones he loved the best? Were mundane to other people. He liked to dream about driving, doing dishes, talking to other people throughout the day, and working on things. Normal, human things, that... others took for granted. He appreciated every fucking mundane detail!
He clicked his tongue to himself, to some, it would sound like he was 'tsking' something. In reality he was cursing not finding what he wanted to find in the book. Well, one could suppose that was still tsking. But this was technically, profanity.