Cheer Up Drabble Challenge

[mithrigil]

Things that have helped me along today and yesterday:

Vols. 4-7 of Blade of the ImmortalKain's helm. Oh god, once you've had Keramiplast you'll NEVER go back

Comments

[tenshi_kain]

Can't resist this one, so, I'll assign Suikoden III to Puddleglum, by which I mean 3.

[mithrigil]

Sarah remembers: Luc has always been a light sleeper. His feet twitch, he thrashes, he wakes to rain on the windowsill. Now that they...share a bed, she thinks, and there is something illicit about it, however chaste--now that they share a bed she knows to keep still, that if she moves he will wake in a foul temper and the air will chill.

But lying awake beside him reveals more than perhaps he wishes. He talks to Leknaat in his sleep. This could be real--she would not put it bast Leknaat--or it could be Luc's fragmented imaginings, apologies for crimes they four have not yet committed. He talks into Sarah's shoulder, his lips blood-dry and starchy, catching on the thread of her nightgown. If she tries to embrace him, he'll simply get up and leave; she endures this, and never speaks of it come morning.

[tenshi_kain]

"Blood-dry" lips catching on her nightgown = ^____^x I knew that'd be an awesome pick, but aah, even more, you wrote Sarah! I trumpet (gravelly) with pride and joy. Awesome. Thanks.

[byzantienne]

FFXII. "But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow."

(... where is that FROM? I know it, but I can't think of where I know it from.)

[mithrigil]

It's from The Silver Chair, aka. C.S. Lewis discusses atheism.

[byzantienne]

Ah.

This goes to show that it has been years since I read Narnia and I should fix that.

[mithrigil]

It is not that Larsa has grown too old for stories--indeed, quite the opposite--but Gabranth must gird his tales in the armor of study these days as soon as tell them. Larsa's tutors are exacting, fierce creatures, a menace as dangerous and interesting as any imagined wyvern. But it seems cheap, to think of stories as rewards for study, and so Larsa does not ask for them as such.

Today, economics; because the war with Landis is, in some ways, a current event:

"Your stories are old, Gabranth, are they not?"

When Larsa studies, it is not as if Gabranth is idle; he reads as well, and for the last week it has been a book in a language Larsa does not read, yet, with illustrations like stained glass. "Many, yes."

"The ones you sing, surely." Those pictures, Larsa thinks: these are also stories.

Grabtanth nods, and his eyes flicker down at the pages, not of his book but Larsa's. "Most things take time to become stories."

[lady_venn]

Gankutsuou, number two, please. :P

[mithrigil]

It is rare to have a German opera in Paris, these days, and any other day long past. A man once compared German music to a prude, and such things have no place in this teal-gold world of sound and streetcorners. These things go on too long, the changes too disguised, the music too bombastic and not illustrated enough

[lady_venn]

Excellent. ^^ Also, mmgah. Especially after tonight's combined choir/orchestra concert. O Magnum Mysterium's still in my head.

[kellios]

Tactics, number five.

[mithrigil]

"Mustadio?"

He gulps. "...Yes?"

Agrias, to her credit, isn't blushing. She upends the bucket of soapy water over the back of her neck, picks up the sponge and goes back to what she was doing. "If you mean to stare, might you at least close the door? I would prefer not to put myself on display for the entire band."

"Right," he says. "Yes. Er. I." He does shut the door, after stepping backward through it. It hits his nose. That'll at least mask the flush of his cheeks--he seems to have gotten her share.

[athenemiranda]

#2 - Firefly.

[mithrigil]

It feels right gratifying to watch the prettyboy stitching Jayne up. Justifies taking the stowaways on in more ways than one, that; got yourself a doctor, got yourself a reason to watch Jayne try not to cry like a little girl with her lollipop in the dirt. Mal smirks, over by the lights where Simon can see it and Jayne can't.

Jayne curses black and blue. "You're not using any gorram painkillers."

"The kind you have on this ship would react adversely with the blood suppressant and cause the area to swell." Simon and words are like duckfeathers and water, Mal thinks. "You can take some once I'm done." Jayne turns away to tent his knees and curse some more. Mal watches the muscles in Jayne's arm twitch trying to stay still, watches the shadows around Simon's eyes get smaller.

Yeah, right gratifying.