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rainbowfic2015-06-29 02:02 am
greenling) wrote in rainbowfic2015-06-29 02:02 am
Angel Cake #14, Famous #5
Name: Greenling
Story: All Great Things
Colors: Angel Cake #14 (Divine Knowledge), Famous #5 (I had something that I love long, but my friends keep telling me that something's wrong)
Supplies and Styles: Novelty Beads (Image), Glitter ("Thou shinest on though clouds hide thee from sight,/And through each break thou sendest down thy light.")
Word Count: 1,036
Rating: G-ish
Warnings: None.
Summary: More working out plot stuff for a reboot. From Part 1: Kevin gets a call about New Orleans and has a weird dream. From Part 2: Dmitry and the others arrive in Philadelphia, and Dmitry is given a job.
Comments, criticism, and questions are all appreciated.
The curtains were open to a roiling gray sky stretching out like a water-stained canvas from horizon to horizon. It had been that shade since the wee hours of the morning, and the only sign that the sun had begun to rise was a gradual lightening that had spread through it all at once. It was set up to be the kind of day that brought storms that came roaring across the sky, then disappeared like ghosts. It was the kind of day for sudden fires and ripping winds, and terrible things blamed on the silence between the rain.
Inside Kevin's apartment, it was calm. The low buzz of the air conditioning was the only background noise for his thoughts, and the chill was making him sleepy. Half of him wanted to curl up by his computer monitor with a bowl of cereal and watch Netflix, and the other half wanted to sink his teeth into a rat, break its spine, and swallow it whole. Both sides wanted to sleep for about twelve more hours. Sausages and eggs in the kitchen seemed like a fair compromise, and it was a work day, anyway. Somebody had to deal with the winds and fires and other nonsense.
Of course it was then that his phone started vibrating on the table. He finished his bite, wiped his fingers off on a paper towel, and answered it.
"'Lo?"
There was a sigh of relief on the other end of the line that he probably shouldn't have heard. "Is this Kevin? Kevin Walker?"
"Yeah." It was a woman's voice; not familiar, not old, sort of Midwestern.
"Sweet. Look, I need somebody in New Orleans like yesterday. Can you get down here?"
He sat there for a moment, frowning at the wallpaper with a sausage on his fork. "I know you?"
"What?" His frown deepened. "Oh. Yes. Sorry, this is Diana." He didn't respond. "Diana Reyes? We met at-"
"Diana with the movie stuff on Facebook?"
She was quiet for a second, and he took the opportunity to eat the sausage.
"Right. We met during the fire thing in Tallahassee, which is why I'm calling you."
He nodded to himself. Admittedly, that made more sense. "Don't remember a favor? And I have work. What's in New Orleans?"
"Well- we're not sure yet. There's a lot of activity, though- bad stuff. Shades, possessions, people disappearing..."
"Mm. But you don't know what's happening? And you need me to drive all that way?"
"Yes." She sounded relieved. "We have someone with the sight but that can only help so much, and you're the only person I know within a day's drive."
"I have to leave in ten minutes-ish. Even if I take off, can't do it today. Better find someone else."
"There really- I could work out something with your job. Forget the favor thing, I need help. What would you need to do this?"
Kevin sighed softly. "I need to work. Things get bad quick over here." He didn't say "and I actually like my job". "Maybe talk to vampires or Marshwillow? Louisiana's gotta have both."
"...You talk to Marshwillow?" Her tone turned sour.
"Some. Up to you. I'm busy for less than city-threatening right now."
There was talking just outside of his hearing. He stabbed the last of his eggs together and ate them, then went to dump his plate in the sink.
"Fine, okay." She sighed. Maybe she was irritated; he wasn't sure if it mattered. "I'll call you back if it's city-threatening."
"'S fair."
It was about time to find his shoes and jacket.
*
White spots/burning white-hot spots, heavy, anchoring spiderwebs of fire.
Web-places travel through [missing] tied faces of people [missing] connection, meaning
Blue-black eyes, soft, dark with smudged liner
Kevin opened his eyes and looked into those eyes, just fluttering open themselves. Jackie blinked several times, looking at the ground. He squeezed her hand.
"Yeah. That was something," she said finally, sounding tired. He frowned, and she smiled a little. "You worried about it or about me?"
"Both."
"Think it's to do with that call you got?"
Kevin shrugged, leaning back against the side of his bed and releasing her hand. "Think we should look. Maybe if there's another."
"Yeah, that's some bullshit, whatever it means." She grimaced. "Can I tell my coven about it? Maybe someone else has heard something."
"If I go with you."
"Course. Shay'll make catfish."
He smiled, and she leaned against his shoulder.
*
Dmitry's hands itched, a weird icy itch he didn't like. He could feel every inch of the sword against his back, wrapped in fabric and again in a bag; it had taken them hours, nonconsecutive at least, to find something bulky enough to conceal what it was and thin enough that he could stand not to hold it. At least he had both his hands back, though. Using the restroom the past week or so had been an "adventure".
Diana had dragged Peace off as soon as they'd hit the airport, leaving Dmitry to make it through alone, rent a car, and find the tiny downtown cafe he was supposed to be at. Or not. Technically there was nothing preventing him from going anywhere else. He could have just headed west until he'd hit Ohio and gone home. He had several missed calls from his mother and two from his brother, probably wondering what the hell he was doing and if he knew anything about the rumours he was sure were circulating about what happened in New Orleans. His lease would have run out by now. If he had left immediately, he probably would have made it outside Cincinnati before he found a fucking parking spot.
But no. Instead he dragged his feet into the cafe and looked around for a "white kid with a kinda strawberry-blond ponytail, probably wearing an overcoat". It was weirdly quiet for how busy it was; there were three people behind the little bar hurriedly making drinks and sandwiches, and just about every bar and table had someone sitting there, most with people in couples and small groups, but he could barely hear the hum of conversation over the soft indie pop coming from the ceiling.
Story: All Great Things
Colors: Angel Cake #14 (Divine Knowledge), Famous #5 (I had something that I love long, but my friends keep telling me that something's wrong)
Supplies and Styles: Novelty Beads (Image), Glitter ("Thou shinest on though clouds hide thee from sight,/And through each break thou sendest down thy light.")
Word Count: 1,036
Rating: G-ish
Warnings: None.
Summary: More working out plot stuff for a reboot. From Part 1: Kevin gets a call about New Orleans and has a weird dream. From Part 2: Dmitry and the others arrive in Philadelphia, and Dmitry is given a job.
Comments, criticism, and questions are all appreciated.
The curtains were open to a roiling gray sky stretching out like a water-stained canvas from horizon to horizon. It had been that shade since the wee hours of the morning, and the only sign that the sun had begun to rise was a gradual lightening that had spread through it all at once. It was set up to be the kind of day that brought storms that came roaring across the sky, then disappeared like ghosts. It was the kind of day for sudden fires and ripping winds, and terrible things blamed on the silence between the rain.
Inside Kevin's apartment, it was calm. The low buzz of the air conditioning was the only background noise for his thoughts, and the chill was making him sleepy. Half of him wanted to curl up by his computer monitor with a bowl of cereal and watch Netflix, and the other half wanted to sink his teeth into a rat, break its spine, and swallow it whole. Both sides wanted to sleep for about twelve more hours. Sausages and eggs in the kitchen seemed like a fair compromise, and it was a work day, anyway. Somebody had to deal with the winds and fires and other nonsense.
Of course it was then that his phone started vibrating on the table. He finished his bite, wiped his fingers off on a paper towel, and answered it.
"'Lo?"
There was a sigh of relief on the other end of the line that he probably shouldn't have heard. "Is this Kevin? Kevin Walker?"
"Yeah." It was a woman's voice; not familiar, not old, sort of Midwestern.
"Sweet. Look, I need somebody in New Orleans like yesterday. Can you get down here?"
He sat there for a moment, frowning at the wallpaper with a sausage on his fork. "I know you?"
"What?" His frown deepened. "Oh. Yes. Sorry, this is Diana." He didn't respond. "Diana Reyes? We met at-"
"Diana with the movie stuff on Facebook?"
She was quiet for a second, and he took the opportunity to eat the sausage.
"Right. We met during the fire thing in Tallahassee, which is why I'm calling you."
He nodded to himself. Admittedly, that made more sense. "Don't remember a favor? And I have work. What's in New Orleans?"
"Well- we're not sure yet. There's a lot of activity, though- bad stuff. Shades, possessions, people disappearing..."
"Mm. But you don't know what's happening? And you need me to drive all that way?"
"Yes." She sounded relieved. "We have someone with the sight but that can only help so much, and you're the only person I know within a day's drive."
"I have to leave in ten minutes-ish. Even if I take off, can't do it today. Better find someone else."
"There really- I could work out something with your job. Forget the favor thing, I need help. What would you need to do this?"
Kevin sighed softly. "I need to work. Things get bad quick over here." He didn't say "and I actually like my job". "Maybe talk to vampires or Marshwillow? Louisiana's gotta have both."
"...You talk to Marshwillow?" Her tone turned sour.
"Some. Up to you. I'm busy for less than city-threatening right now."
There was talking just outside of his hearing. He stabbed the last of his eggs together and ate them, then went to dump his plate in the sink.
"Fine, okay." She sighed. Maybe she was irritated; he wasn't sure if it mattered. "I'll call you back if it's city-threatening."
"'S fair."
It was about time to find his shoes and jacket.
*
White spots/burning white-hot spots, heavy, anchoring spiderwebs of fire.
Web-places travel through [missing] tied faces of people [missing] connection, meaning
Blue-black eyes, soft, dark with smudged liner
Kevin opened his eyes and looked into those eyes, just fluttering open themselves. Jackie blinked several times, looking at the ground. He squeezed her hand.
"Yeah. That was something," she said finally, sounding tired. He frowned, and she smiled a little. "You worried about it or about me?"
"Both."
"Think it's to do with that call you got?"
Kevin shrugged, leaning back against the side of his bed and releasing her hand. "Think we should look. Maybe if there's another."
"Yeah, that's some bullshit, whatever it means." She grimaced. "Can I tell my coven about it? Maybe someone else has heard something."
"If I go with you."
"Course. Shay'll make catfish."
He smiled, and she leaned against his shoulder.
*
Dmitry's hands itched, a weird icy itch he didn't like. He could feel every inch of the sword against his back, wrapped in fabric and again in a bag; it had taken them hours, nonconsecutive at least, to find something bulky enough to conceal what it was and thin enough that he could stand not to hold it. At least he had both his hands back, though. Using the restroom the past week or so had been an "adventure".
Diana had dragged Peace off as soon as they'd hit the airport, leaving Dmitry to make it through alone, rent a car, and find the tiny downtown cafe he was supposed to be at. Or not. Technically there was nothing preventing him from going anywhere else. He could have just headed west until he'd hit Ohio and gone home. He had several missed calls from his mother and two from his brother, probably wondering what the hell he was doing and if he knew anything about the rumours he was sure were circulating about what happened in New Orleans. His lease would have run out by now. If he had left immediately, he probably would have made it outside Cincinnati before he found a fucking parking spot.
But no. Instead he dragged his feet into the cafe and looked around for a "white kid with a kinda strawberry-blond ponytail, probably wearing an overcoat". It was weirdly quiet for how busy it was; there were three people behind the little bar hurriedly making drinks and sandwiches, and just about every bar and table had someone sitting there, most with people in couples and small groups, but he could barely hear the hum of conversation over the soft indie pop coming from the ceiling.