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rainbowfic2015-08-02 03:32 pm
starphotographs) wrote in rainbowfic2015-08-02 03:32 pm
Entry tags:
Folly 16
Name: starphotographs
Story: Universe B
Supplies and Styles: Graffiti (Summer Carnival, Duck Gallery: http://s1241.photobucket.com/user/rainbowficmods/media/Dead%20Time%202015/tumblr_nkr0qnwPmG1qjdg1vo1_540.jpg.html)
Characters: Scissors (POV), Frankie
Colors: Folly 16 (It‘s probably just the wind.)
Word Count: 457
Rating: PG (or G?)
Warnings: Choose not to warn.
Summary: Half-assed cryptid hunt.
Note: Gah, this was fun.
“Skizzy, look! Is that the lake monster!?”
Sometimes, I regretted taking Frankie along for these things. Usually, he saw what we were looking for in everything, drove me crazy pointing it out, and made such a distraction of himself that I probably wouldn’t notice the thing if it walked right in front of me. Plus, this time, he kept almost submerging our rented canoe.
“That’s a chip bag, Franks. Some idiot didn’t put it in the trash.”
I was about to tell him to put his glasses back on, when I saw he was already wearing them. So he wasn’t blind. Just stupid. Though, really, that’s always the case. His vision isn’t even that bad. But, it doesn’t take very much to disrupt his sense of reality.
“What about-”
I looked where he was pointing.
“…Old pool floatie.”
Scowling, I pushed the flaccid orange slab out of our way with an oar. What the hell was it doing there? Why were people swimming in a lake that might have a monster? Or even a lake this dirty?
“Skizz-”
“…Not the monster!”
I felt stupid for saying that, because what if it was the monster? Also, because I had no idea what he was actually trying to tell me. For all I knew, he was having some kind of crisis and needed me to paddle back to shore and take him to the hospital. Which is what happened last time we tried to do this.
“Um, I was going to say I was cold. Give me your jacket.”
At least it wasn’t anything serious. He was shivering, but I figured that was his problem to deal with.
“You’d probably warm up a little if you helped me row.”
“Dude, I can’t row. I tried, remember?”
Indeed he did. He couldn’t figure out how to coordinate the oars, his arms were too weak to really get us anywhere, his lungs gave out after about five minutes, and he needed to lie down with his head on my shoes. But, I wasn’t really expecting anything. I was just bitter about having to do everything myself.
“…Oh, fine.”
I gave him my goddamn jacket.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. Feeling better now?”
He lied back down, put his head on my shoes again. Apparently, it was time for him to sleep again. I really need to get that dude on a standard eight/sixteen cycle one of these days.
“Yeah.”
“…Good.”
Frankie fell asleep, pinning my feet to the ground. I picked up my binoculars, and resumed the search. Waiting for the thrashing of a tail, a row of spines, the raising of a great scaled head.
Or for it to get dark, so we could go out to dinner and head home.
starphotographsStory: Universe B
Supplies and Styles: Graffiti (Summer Carnival, Duck Gallery: http://s1241.photobucket.com/user/rainbowficmods/media/Dead%20Time%202015/tumblr_nkr0qnwPmG1qjdg1vo1_540.jpg.html)
Characters: Scissors (POV), Frankie
Colors: Folly 16 (It‘s probably just the wind.)
Word Count: 457
Rating: PG (or G?)
Warnings: Choose not to warn.
Summary: Half-assed cryptid hunt.
Note: Gah, this was fun.
“Skizzy, look! Is that the lake monster!?”
Sometimes, I regretted taking Frankie along for these things. Usually, he saw what we were looking for in everything, drove me crazy pointing it out, and made such a distraction of himself that I probably wouldn’t notice the thing if it walked right in front of me. Plus, this time, he kept almost submerging our rented canoe.
“That’s a chip bag, Franks. Some idiot didn’t put it in the trash.”
I was about to tell him to put his glasses back on, when I saw he was already wearing them. So he wasn’t blind. Just stupid. Though, really, that’s always the case. His vision isn’t even that bad. But, it doesn’t take very much to disrupt his sense of reality.
“What about-”
I looked where he was pointing.
“…Old pool floatie.”
Scowling, I pushed the flaccid orange slab out of our way with an oar. What the hell was it doing there? Why were people swimming in a lake that might have a monster? Or even a lake this dirty?
“Skizz-”
“…Not the monster!”
I felt stupid for saying that, because what if it was the monster? Also, because I had no idea what he was actually trying to tell me. For all I knew, he was having some kind of crisis and needed me to paddle back to shore and take him to the hospital. Which is what happened last time we tried to do this.
“Um, I was going to say I was cold. Give me your jacket.”
At least it wasn’t anything serious. He was shivering, but I figured that was his problem to deal with.
“You’d probably warm up a little if you helped me row.”
“Dude, I can’t row. I tried, remember?”
Indeed he did. He couldn’t figure out how to coordinate the oars, his arms were too weak to really get us anywhere, his lungs gave out after about five minutes, and he needed to lie down with his head on my shoes. But, I wasn’t really expecting anything. I was just bitter about having to do everything myself.
“…Oh, fine.”
I gave him my goddamn jacket.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. Feeling better now?”
He lied back down, put his head on my shoes again. Apparently, it was time for him to sleep again. I really need to get that dude on a standard eight/sixteen cycle one of these days.
“Yeah.”
“…Good.”
Frankie fell asleep, pinning my feet to the ground. I picked up my binoculars, and resumed the search. Waiting for the thrashing of a tail, a row of spines, the raising of a great scaled head.
Or for it to get dark, so we could go out to dinner and head home.