LJ Idol 8, Topic 5: "Inconceivable"
Misty blinked, once, twice. Slowly, her vision cleared, and her throbbing headache eased to a dull roar. A good-looking young man with worry behind his dark gray eyes sat in front of her, two golden goblets overturned by his feet. His left hand rested gently on her knee in a familiar gesture. "What a trip," she mumbled, her tongue still thick and coated with whatever she’d just ingested.
"I’ve been waiting," he said, rising to one knee. "So very long."
Hesitantly, she looked down at his hand and noticed the wheelchair she was sitting in. Her bright blue eyes dimmed in concern. "Was I hurt?"
"A freak accident," Jake explained. "Do you remember?" He reached down and picked up the two chalices, fingering the archaic designs around the outside as he gazed at her, waiting for her answer. He watched as her fugue-like state slowly dissipated.
"I don't know..." she replied. "It's all jumbled," she explained, smoothing her hands down the front of her plain indigo tee and short denim skirt. She pulled her blonde ponytail over her shoulder, checking the length to judge how long it might have been since her last conscious memory of being Misty. She dreaded learning what she’d done as Mandy, how much of her life she had missed. Months, at least.
Misty tried to dislodge the cobwebs that persisted in tangling her thoughts. She couldn't. "I can't think."
Jake nodded in understanding and gently kissed the top of her head. "Give it time. It'll be okay."
He strode to the kitchenette and washed the iocane residue out of the goblets. The splash of the running water camouflaged the sound of his sigh. He desperately needed to know how much she recalled. What would he tell Vizzini? That little Sicilian devil would have his hide if he couldn't produce the desired results. His grandfather had been right when he warned him not to meddle. Turning the taps off, Jake placed the glistening goblets on the counter, tore off a square of paper towel and dried his hands. He needed more time.
Lips upturned in a smile, he spun around and leaned back against the sink, eyeing Misty. What did she know? What wasn't she telling him? Misty gazed down at her hands, intertwining her slender fingers with her denim skirt. She appeared deep in thought. Jake didn't want to distract her, but she quickly looked up as he approached, a glass of ice water in his hand. "Are you thirsty?"
"Yes, thank you."
Misty drained the contents in less than a minute then handed the empty glass back with a smile. "Fetch me more?"
Jake sat on the sofa and turned her wheelchair towards him. He had to be patient. Vizzini would just have to wait until she remembered, however long it took. Another day or two wouldn't kill them - after all, everybody knows you can't rush a miracle.
Jake placed his left hand beneath Misty's soft chin, and leaned towards her. "Pucker up, Buttercup."
She smiled at the familiar nickname, and tilted in for the kiss. "As you wish."
~* ~* ~* ~*
This has been written in homage to The Princess Bride. Can you spot all of my nods to the movie? Some are more subtle than others!
"I’ve been waiting," he said, rising to one knee. "So very long."
Hesitantly, she looked down at his hand and noticed the wheelchair she was sitting in. Her bright blue eyes dimmed in concern. "Was I hurt?"
"A freak accident," Jake explained. "Do you remember?" He reached down and picked up the two chalices, fingering the archaic designs around the outside as he gazed at her, waiting for her answer. He watched as her fugue-like state slowly dissipated.
"I don't know..." she replied. "It's all jumbled," she explained, smoothing her hands down the front of her plain indigo tee and short denim skirt. She pulled her blonde ponytail over her shoulder, checking the length to judge how long it might have been since her last conscious memory of being Misty. She dreaded learning what she’d done as Mandy, how much of her life she had missed. Months, at least.
Misty tried to dislodge the cobwebs that persisted in tangling her thoughts. She couldn't. "I can't think."
Jake nodded in understanding and gently kissed the top of her head. "Give it time. It'll be okay."
He strode to the kitchenette and washed the iocane residue out of the goblets. The splash of the running water camouflaged the sound of his sigh. He desperately needed to know how much she recalled. What would he tell Vizzini? That little Sicilian devil would have his hide if he couldn't produce the desired results. His grandfather had been right when he warned him not to meddle. Turning the taps off, Jake placed the glistening goblets on the counter, tore off a square of paper towel and dried his hands. He needed more time.
Lips upturned in a smile, he spun around and leaned back against the sink, eyeing Misty. What did she know? What wasn't she telling him? Misty gazed down at her hands, intertwining her slender fingers with her denim skirt. She appeared deep in thought. Jake didn't want to distract her, but she quickly looked up as he approached, a glass of ice water in his hand. "Are you thirsty?"
"Yes, thank you."
Misty drained the contents in less than a minute then handed the empty glass back with a smile. "Fetch me more?"
Jake sat on the sofa and turned her wheelchair towards him. He had to be patient. Vizzini would just have to wait until she remembered, however long it took. Another day or two wouldn't kill them - after all, everybody knows you can't rush a miracle.
Jake placed his left hand beneath Misty's soft chin, and leaned towards her. "Pucker up, Buttercup."
She smiled at the familiar nickname, and tilted in for the kiss. "As you wish."
~* ~* ~* ~*
This has been written in homage to The Princess Bride. Can you spot all of my nods to the movie? Some are more subtle than others!