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rainbowfic2015-07-05 08:48 pm
greenling) wrote in rainbowfic2015-07-05 08:48 pm
Sherry #15, Famous #3
Name: Greenling
Story: The one with Bird in it
Colors: Sherry #15 (From the Mansion of the Universe / A lifeless Diety), Famous #3 (We're plastic, but we still have fun)
Supplies and Styles: Novelty Beads (time with the family)
Word Count: 1,238
Rating: Basically G
Warnings: Some creepiness, maybe swearing.
Summary: Bird has a polite conversation over dinner, meets some new people, talks about himself, and learns something about vampires. Yay.
Comments, criticism, and questions are all appreciated.
Bird found himself sitting at a table. He remembered all the steps of how he'd gotten there, though they swam around his head in a disconnected, wobbly sort of way. The table was in a dining room, and the dining room was clearly in a castle or something, with massive woven tapestries hanging from the walls, and old portraits, and suits of armor flanking the door, and a table of rich white people talking about classical music. Meanwhile he was picking at a piece of well-roasted chicken in some kind of tomato sauce listening to the kid (okay, at this point he definitely wasn't a kid), the girl (Jacinthe), and some intimidating-looking blonde lady with a musical voice who definitely gave off the impression that she was royalty. And that she was... something... with Jacinthe. They kept giving each other cute looks and stuff.
He was starting to get used to the warm erratic buzz of overclocked senses and the weird bubbling in his veins, even if it got worse whenever somebody tried to talk to him. His muscles were also still oversensitive, but more or less under his control. He'd bent a fork on accident, which at first had scared him half to death since it looked like actual silver, but he'd just been pointed to a whole drawer of more. Fresh-cut flowers had been placed just far enough away to for their smells to complement the meal, and all the furniture was still dark cherry wood. Bird mostly kept his head down, trying not to be overwhelmed.
"So what about you, Bird?"
Of course that couldn't last forever. His head snapped up at Jacinthe's voice. She covered her mouth with her hand, politely amused at... probably his face. He glanced at the other two, as if he had thought that would help, but no. Neither of them were even looking at him. He tried an awkward smile instead.
"S-." The colors in the tapestry behind her started bleeding like a halo of light around her dark hair and dress, and he blinked a couple of times. "Sorry?"
"Well, what kind of music do you like? We were discussing composers, but maybe you prefer something made in the last century."
Jacinthe and the blonde lady traded a glance like a private joke. (Bird had been given her name, too, but he hadn't caught it.) Anton had mostly sat there except when the Lady was asking him questions. It was weird in that it wasn't weird at all. He felt like he'd been invited into some stranger's bedroom while they were getting dressed.
"I... don't know much about music?" he said slowly. "I uh, I was in band in high school, but I wasn't very good at it."
She smiled at him, a warm smile that hit her eyes and made him imagine the light halo as shoujo bubbles. "Well, you must listen to something, don't you? Even if it's the radio."
He bit his lip, wincing as it hurt more than he'd expected. Which he should have expected. "Uh." Well, if she was going to be so nice about it... "I... I really like the Violent Femmes?"
Jacinthe's smile didn't budge, and her eyes were blank. "Oh? Well, that's neat. I don't know them, but what are they like?"
"They're kind of... punky alternative? I like alternative."
She looked to the blonde lady and shrugged. "Oh. Well, I like rock'n'roll, but not that sort of thing really. I don't think..."
"What's your favorite album?" the- Anton said suddenly.
"I like the new one... Rock?"
"They're a little post-punk, aren't they?" Anton nodded, and Bird felt a little more comfortable, until he noticed the other two were staring. At Anton, not at him. Openly.
Bird shrugged. "Yeah, well. I like it."
Anton picked up his cup (which Bird could smell coffee in from halfway across the table) and mumbled, "Not exactly The Clash..." in a low tone of voice that apparently meant Jacinthe needed to glance awkwardly at both the other ones and change the subject.
"Anyway," she said, "maybe we should start more generally. What sort of hobbies do you have? What are you interested in?"
Still left him on the spot. More than before, even. Yay. "Fitness," he attempted. "Y'know, never really found a sport, but... in general."
"That's nice," Jacinthe responded.
"And uh... you know. Japanese film. Things."
"Oh." She looked pensive. The blonde lady nodded. "I've seen Rashomon? Like that?"
"Sure." Yeah. Absolutely like that. Bird grinned. "Uh- I guess there must be a VCR in here somewhere, right? I mean- this place looks really mega old, but you can still see videos if you want to- right?"
"Here? I know Uncle Anton has a television. I don't know if he has a VCR."
"Oh. Okay. So- so you don't live here. Wherever here is."
The blonde lady gave Anton an odd look. Anton narrowed his eyes at her. Jacinthe's hands went into her lap, though she hadn't been eating to begin with. Bird decided to look down and started forking potatoes into his mouth before they got cold.
"Anton is my brother. Jacinthe and I live on the Gulf, and have come to visit for a few weeks."
Bird looked up at her, not quite able to meet her eyes. She looked... well she could have been in her forties, just a really, really well-preserved forty, maybe. He looked at Jacinthe. He stared down at his potatoes, cheeks burning. There was a short, dead silence.
The Lady turned her head to Jacinthe and spoke: "Check if our room is ready, dear; you know I don't trust how those things unpack."
"Yes, ma'am." Jacinthe gave her a polite smile and stood up to leave, though even Bird could tell she felt a little awkward.
There was another brief, total silence as Jacinthe left the room, and for several seconds after.
"Anton, I understand the boy is in a delicate state. Perhaps you'd like to enlighten us and what he has and has not been made aware of as to the situation."
Anton's expression was blank. "We have not had time to speak."
Beat. "Would you like to take the time? I'm sure we wouldn't mind saving our discussion for another time." Another one. "It's your decision, of course, how to handle your business; though we would like to avoid unhappy accidents."
"My preference would be to have a normal dinner." His expression didn't change, either.
Bird's stomach rumbled a little, sounding a few orders of magnitude louder in the silent room. Everyone- including him- paused a seconed. His cheeks flushed even harder, and he dug into the chicken as quickly and politely as he could manage while the adults had some kind of blank-stare-based argument.
"Fine," Anton said quietly. "Sakda. Look at me."
Bird paused mid-bite, then awkwardly sat his fork down and turned his eyes back upwards and to the head of the table. There was tomato sauce on his mouth, and his hand fumbled around for a cloth napkin.
"Things have changed. This will not fulfill what you are interpreting as hunger. Eat because it is good. Not so fast."
Bird was still. As far as he could tell, what his stomach was saying was was pretty damn unambiguous.There was another creepy, polite staring contest between the other two.
"After dinner we will return to the study, and when something more appropriate has been acquired you will be the first to enjoy it." The hair on the back of Bird's neck stood up as the feeling that something was very wrong came back to him. "If you feel unable to wait, or if you begin to feel unsteady or overstimulated, inform me."
He clenched his hands nervously, resisting the urge to fiddle with something. Overstimulated. He definitely felt over-something. Hell, why was he just- He could move. Maybe he was sick before, but- the bubbly feeling in his skin and years of manners lectures warred with everything else in him and was finally defeated.
"And-" His voice caught in his throat, but he pushed past it. "I- what's 'something more appropriate'? What does that mean? Were you gonna tell me what the hell happened to me at some point?"
"You will not use those words, and you will not speak that way towards me." Bird's anger froze in his throat, and he gritted his teeth. "Things will go more easily for you if calm yourself and take things as they come. If you insist on running headlong into it, I will answer your questions, but I don't recommend it."
Anton's expression still didn't change. Bird wanted to break something.
"I want to know," he said slowly and deliberately.
"You are immortal," Anton replied blandly. A totally different kind of ice followed the first feeling. "You are family. You crave life. You will receive it in the manner you are currently capable, and that will perhaps sustain you for a few days. When your blood has settled I will teach you more and you will learn."
Everything sort of faded out for a bit.
Then he was standing.
"You made me a vampire?"
Anton had been talking, somewhere in the middle of a sentence Bird didn't hear. Now he was staring, and talking again.
"You can't just do that!" He stepped back, knocking his chair into the floor and nearly tripping on it. "I mean- you can't! That's not..."
Bird trailed off. The blonde woman was also staring, and she caught his eyes.
"Would you like to have some time alone?"
He couldn't read the look in her eyes and he didn't want to. He just looked up at the ceiling and nodded.
"Don't leave the house," said the kid, and Bird made for the door, trying to tune the world back out.
Story: The one with Bird in it
Colors: Sherry #15 (From the Mansion of the Universe / A lifeless Diety), Famous #3 (We're plastic, but we still have fun)
Supplies and Styles: Novelty Beads (time with the family)
Word Count: 1,238
Rating: Basically G
Warnings: Some creepiness, maybe swearing.
Summary: Bird has a polite conversation over dinner, meets some new people, talks about himself, and learns something about vampires. Yay.
Comments, criticism, and questions are all appreciated.
Bird found himself sitting at a table. He remembered all the steps of how he'd gotten there, though they swam around his head in a disconnected, wobbly sort of way. The table was in a dining room, and the dining room was clearly in a castle or something, with massive woven tapestries hanging from the walls, and old portraits, and suits of armor flanking the door, and a table of rich white people talking about classical music. Meanwhile he was picking at a piece of well-roasted chicken in some kind of tomato sauce listening to the kid (okay, at this point he definitely wasn't a kid), the girl (Jacinthe), and some intimidating-looking blonde lady with a musical voice who definitely gave off the impression that she was royalty. And that she was... something... with Jacinthe. They kept giving each other cute looks and stuff.
He was starting to get used to the warm erratic buzz of overclocked senses and the weird bubbling in his veins, even if it got worse whenever somebody tried to talk to him. His muscles were also still oversensitive, but more or less under his control. He'd bent a fork on accident, which at first had scared him half to death since it looked like actual silver, but he'd just been pointed to a whole drawer of more. Fresh-cut flowers had been placed just far enough away to for their smells to complement the meal, and all the furniture was still dark cherry wood. Bird mostly kept his head down, trying not to be overwhelmed.
"So what about you, Bird?"
Of course that couldn't last forever. His head snapped up at Jacinthe's voice. She covered her mouth with her hand, politely amused at... probably his face. He glanced at the other two, as if he had thought that would help, but no. Neither of them were even looking at him. He tried an awkward smile instead.
"S-." The colors in the tapestry behind her started bleeding like a halo of light around her dark hair and dress, and he blinked a couple of times. "Sorry?"
"Well, what kind of music do you like? We were discussing composers, but maybe you prefer something made in the last century."
Jacinthe and the blonde lady traded a glance like a private joke. (Bird had been given her name, too, but he hadn't caught it.) Anton had mostly sat there except when the Lady was asking him questions. It was weird in that it wasn't weird at all. He felt like he'd been invited into some stranger's bedroom while they were getting dressed.
"I... don't know much about music?" he said slowly. "I uh, I was in band in high school, but I wasn't very good at it."
She smiled at him, a warm smile that hit her eyes and made him imagine the light halo as shoujo bubbles. "Well, you must listen to something, don't you? Even if it's the radio."
He bit his lip, wincing as it hurt more than he'd expected. Which he should have expected. "Uh." Well, if she was going to be so nice about it... "I... I really like the Violent Femmes?"
Jacinthe's smile didn't budge, and her eyes were blank. "Oh? Well, that's neat. I don't know them, but what are they like?"
"They're kind of... punky alternative? I like alternative."
She looked to the blonde lady and shrugged. "Oh. Well, I like rock'n'roll, but not that sort of thing really. I don't think..."
"What's your favorite album?" the- Anton said suddenly.
"I like the new one... Rock?"
"They're a little post-punk, aren't they?" Anton nodded, and Bird felt a little more comfortable, until he noticed the other two were staring. At Anton, not at him. Openly.
Bird shrugged. "Yeah, well. I like it."
Anton picked up his cup (which Bird could smell coffee in from halfway across the table) and mumbled, "Not exactly The Clash..." in a low tone of voice that apparently meant Jacinthe needed to glance awkwardly at both the other ones and change the subject.
"Anyway," she said, "maybe we should start more generally. What sort of hobbies do you have? What are you interested in?"
Still left him on the spot. More than before, even. Yay. "Fitness," he attempted. "Y'know, never really found a sport, but... in general."
"That's nice," Jacinthe responded.
"And uh... you know. Japanese film. Things."
"Oh." She looked pensive. The blonde lady nodded. "I've seen Rashomon? Like that?"
"Sure." Yeah. Absolutely like that. Bird grinned. "Uh- I guess there must be a VCR in here somewhere, right? I mean- this place looks really mega old, but you can still see videos if you want to- right?"
"Here? I know Uncle Anton has a television. I don't know if he has a VCR."
"Oh. Okay. So- so you don't live here. Wherever here is."
The blonde lady gave Anton an odd look. Anton narrowed his eyes at her. Jacinthe's hands went into her lap, though she hadn't been eating to begin with. Bird decided to look down and started forking potatoes into his mouth before they got cold.
"Anton is my brother. Jacinthe and I live on the Gulf, and have come to visit for a few weeks."
Bird looked up at her, not quite able to meet her eyes. She looked... well she could have been in her forties, just a really, really well-preserved forty, maybe. He looked at Jacinthe. He stared down at his potatoes, cheeks burning. There was a short, dead silence.
The Lady turned her head to Jacinthe and spoke: "Check if our room is ready, dear; you know I don't trust how those things unpack."
"Yes, ma'am." Jacinthe gave her a polite smile and stood up to leave, though even Bird could tell she felt a little awkward.
There was another brief, total silence as Jacinthe left the room, and for several seconds after.
"Anton, I understand the boy is in a delicate state. Perhaps you'd like to enlighten us and what he has and has not been made aware of as to the situation."
Anton's expression was blank. "We have not had time to speak."
Beat. "Would you like to take the time? I'm sure we wouldn't mind saving our discussion for another time." Another one. "It's your decision, of course, how to handle your business; though we would like to avoid unhappy accidents."
"My preference would be to have a normal dinner." His expression didn't change, either.
Bird's stomach rumbled a little, sounding a few orders of magnitude louder in the silent room. Everyone- including him- paused a seconed. His cheeks flushed even harder, and he dug into the chicken as quickly and politely as he could manage while the adults had some kind of blank-stare-based argument.
"Fine," Anton said quietly. "Sakda. Look at me."
Bird paused mid-bite, then awkwardly sat his fork down and turned his eyes back upwards and to the head of the table. There was tomato sauce on his mouth, and his hand fumbled around for a cloth napkin.
"Things have changed. This will not fulfill what you are interpreting as hunger. Eat because it is good. Not so fast."
Bird was still. As far as he could tell, what his stomach was saying was was pretty damn unambiguous.There was another creepy, polite staring contest between the other two.
"After dinner we will return to the study, and when something more appropriate has been acquired you will be the first to enjoy it." The hair on the back of Bird's neck stood up as the feeling that something was very wrong came back to him. "If you feel unable to wait, or if you begin to feel unsteady or overstimulated, inform me."
He clenched his hands nervously, resisting the urge to fiddle with something. Overstimulated. He definitely felt over-something. Hell, why was he just- He could move. Maybe he was sick before, but- the bubbly feeling in his skin and years of manners lectures warred with everything else in him and was finally defeated.
"And-" His voice caught in his throat, but he pushed past it. "I- what's 'something more appropriate'? What does that mean? Were you gonna tell me what the hell happened to me at some point?"
"You will not use those words, and you will not speak that way towards me." Bird's anger froze in his throat, and he gritted his teeth. "Things will go more easily for you if calm yourself and take things as they come. If you insist on running headlong into it, I will answer your questions, but I don't recommend it."
Anton's expression still didn't change. Bird wanted to break something.
"I want to know," he said slowly and deliberately.
"You are immortal," Anton replied blandly. A totally different kind of ice followed the first feeling. "You are family. You crave life. You will receive it in the manner you are currently capable, and that will perhaps sustain you for a few days. When your blood has settled I will teach you more and you will learn."
Everything sort of faded out for a bit.
Then he was standing.
"You made me a vampire?"
Anton had been talking, somewhere in the middle of a sentence Bird didn't hear. Now he was staring, and talking again.
"You can't just do that!" He stepped back, knocking his chair into the floor and nearly tripping on it. "I mean- you can't! That's not..."
Bird trailed off. The blonde woman was also staring, and she caught his eyes.
"Would you like to have some time alone?"
He couldn't read the look in her eyes and he didn't want to. He just looked up at the ceiling and nodded.
"Don't leave the house," said the kid, and Bird made for the door, trying to tune the world back out.
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Possibly there's room for a side scene while Bird is counting all the ways his life has gone all topsy-turvy. Thanks for reading.
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Thanks for reading. :3
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Thanks for reading!