Re: The Nest [1/2]
anonymous
September 13 2011, 04:40:02 UTC
And footsteps too. Real footsteps. Some one is coming up the stairs. Except they stop one floor short. For a brief moment, a sliver of light appears on the building on the opposite side. A warm yellow bulb, about fifty watts. He catches the silhouette of a child and the faint chatter of women before the light disappears.
The women are discussing dinner. His stomach makes a complaint. It is ignored. Desolas came home late sometimes. There was always some hold-up at the spaceport: a protest, a medical emergency, a diplomatic visit. He never started without Desolas.
Desolas didn’t like getting calls. Be patient, he’d say, setting his armour case by the door; being a soldier makes you appreciate the slow days, that’s for sure. Saren made the calls anyway. Oh, stuck on the skyway again? Accident on the five-by-twenty-three? I copy. (Desolas would chuckle at that.) What’s your ETA? (It was a serious and valid question. But Desolas would chuckle again.) Yes, I made soup. I don’t know, but it smells good. Yes, I am using all my self-
( ... )
Re: The Nest: OP
anonymous
September 13 2011, 08:00:59 UTC
Anon wanted their heart broken over and over again and you delivered, boy did you deliver! It started cracking with the lens, the first parts came off with the dirge, a whole half shattered with almost dialing the wrong number, and then it fell apart and got ground to dust with that heavy sigh.
And if anon were to start enumerating all the other wonderful details that anon loved, anon would end up copy-pasting the entire story. Spirits, the things you do words! Anon can never, ever read enough of your writing.
Thank you, dearest Misfire Anon, thank you from the shards of anon's heart. Anon loves you, and anon does not use those words lightly.
PS Anon had no idea if you'd take the request; vague hopes at best. Anon thinks you've opened the floodgates now! :)
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The women are discussing dinner. His stomach makes a complaint. It is ignored. Desolas came home late sometimes. There was always some hold-up at the spaceport: a protest, a medical emergency, a diplomatic visit. He never started without Desolas.
Desolas didn’t like getting calls. Be patient, he’d say, setting his armour case by the door; being a soldier makes you appreciate the slow days, that’s for sure. Saren made the calls anyway. Oh, stuck on the skyway again? Accident on the five-by-twenty-three? I copy. (Desolas would chuckle at that.) What’s your ETA? (It was a serious and valid question. But Desolas would chuckle again.) Yes, I made soup. I don’t know, but it smells good. Yes, I am using all my self- ( ... )
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And if anon were to start enumerating all the other wonderful details that anon loved, anon would end up copy-pasting the entire story. Spirits, the things you do words! Anon can never, ever read enough of your writing.
Thank you, dearest Misfire Anon, thank you from the shards of anon's heart. Anon loves you, and anon does not use those words lightly.
PS
Anon had no idea if you'd take the request; vague hopes at best. Anon thinks you've opened the floodgates now! :)
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*sits in the corner and snickers*
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