R15 Drabbles, #7: Remember, #9: Replica
Now I conclude my wild run of the R15. These last two almost--almost--mirror the way I started this mad scheme (well, maybe not; it makes some kind of sense in my mind). Also, I had trouble thinking up good ideas for these, so apologies for their brevity. As always, completely inconsistent with the others and to be taken with a grain of salt as the possibilty of OOCness always lurks.
7. Remember
In the end, time holds little meaning. A recollection of a day may in fact be a year’s worth of similar days, dispassionately disassembled, pieces inspected for noteworthiness, and then rearranged to seem like one twenty-four hour period.
It should bother her, she thinks. It should bother her that her memory lacks clarity, that she isn’t absolute master of her own thoughts. It should bother her that time has slipped so easily through her class, eluding even her brand of discipline. But in the end, she decides, it isn’t very important.
She remembers what she needs to remember. Everything important remains.
She thinks about this as she readies herself in the morning. She wonders how time is simply a subtly different face staring back in the mirror: a suggestion of lines at the corners of her eyes, an addition of a star on her shoulders, her hair suddenly trapped in her collar, falling much longer than she can remember when freed.
But if she forgets herself and fails to note the changes time inflicts in its passing, others do not.
She thinks about this as she sweeps her hair up experimentally and secures it with a barrette. A plain hair accessory. A leather brown band. One he left casually on her desk in passing. The same she stared at silently before picking up. The gift she took home with her at the end of the day.
She stares at her new reflection and remembers. Remembers all the little kindnesses along the way. Holds each of them close. Lets time pass as it will.
Knowing that she cannot stop it. Knowing that she doesn’t want to. Content to accept all the memories of tomorrow. Content to shape them as she will.
9. Replica (which would have fit very well into the series of yesterday’s drabbles if I had only thought of it sooner… but I think I prefer it in present tense)
She comes to him with strength and fervor that take him by surprise, and although he feels the same beating just beneath the surface of his flesh, he finds he is unwontedly gentle with her, like he has never been with a woman before.
She is touch, taste, and smell. Warm, soft, and hard beneath his hands, shuddering and trembling beneath his fingertips ghosting over her slick skin. She is salt and water upon his tongue, pliant and firm beneath his searching mouth. Her scent laces every breath, a swirling fog of lotion, sweat and sex, the memory of her shampoo in her golden locks.
Somewhere, distantly, she is sight and sound. A momentary glimpse of flesh through half-lidded eyes. An exhalation by his ear, an indrawn hiss above his head.
It is not enough, he despairs, not enough to create a perfect replica of her in his mind. It is not enough to transmute the understanding of his senses into comprehensible thoughts. Not enough to take her in, make her a part of him, sear her into his soul.
But it is enough, he realizes, for now.
But just for now.
I hope you enjoyed the ride.
7. Remember
In the end, time holds little meaning. A recollection of a day may in fact be a year’s worth of similar days, dispassionately disassembled, pieces inspected for noteworthiness, and then rearranged to seem like one twenty-four hour period.
It should bother her, she thinks. It should bother her that her memory lacks clarity, that she isn’t absolute master of her own thoughts. It should bother her that time has slipped so easily through her class, eluding even her brand of discipline. But in the end, she decides, it isn’t very important.
She remembers what she needs to remember. Everything important remains.
She thinks about this as she readies herself in the morning. She wonders how time is simply a subtly different face staring back in the mirror: a suggestion of lines at the corners of her eyes, an addition of a star on her shoulders, her hair suddenly trapped in her collar, falling much longer than she can remember when freed.
But if she forgets herself and fails to note the changes time inflicts in its passing, others do not.
She thinks about this as she sweeps her hair up experimentally and secures it with a barrette. A plain hair accessory. A leather brown band. One he left casually on her desk in passing. The same she stared at silently before picking up. The gift she took home with her at the end of the day.
She stares at her new reflection and remembers. Remembers all the little kindnesses along the way. Holds each of them close. Lets time pass as it will.
Knowing that she cannot stop it. Knowing that she doesn’t want to. Content to accept all the memories of tomorrow. Content to shape them as she will.
9. Replica (which would have fit very well into the series of yesterday’s drabbles if I had only thought of it sooner… but I think I prefer it in present tense)
She comes to him with strength and fervor that take him by surprise, and although he feels the same beating just beneath the surface of his flesh, he finds he is unwontedly gentle with her, like he has never been with a woman before.
She is touch, taste, and smell. Warm, soft, and hard beneath his hands, shuddering and trembling beneath his fingertips ghosting over her slick skin. She is salt and water upon his tongue, pliant and firm beneath his searching mouth. Her scent laces every breath, a swirling fog of lotion, sweat and sex, the memory of her shampoo in her golden locks.
Somewhere, distantly, she is sight and sound. A momentary glimpse of flesh through half-lidded eyes. An exhalation by his ear, an indrawn hiss above his head.
It is not enough, he despairs, not enough to create a perfect replica of her in his mind. It is not enough to transmute the understanding of his senses into comprehensible thoughts. Not enough to take her in, make her a part of him, sear her into his soul.
But it is enough, he realizes, for now.
But just for now.
I hope you enjoyed the ride.