amaranthh (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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rainbowfic2015-09-04 11:16 pm
greenling) wrote in rainbowfic2015-09-04 11:16 pm
Famous #25, Blue Opal #11
Name: Greenling
Story: All Great Things
Colors: Famous #25 (I scream "Mom and Dad, why can't I be who I wanna be?"), Blue Opal #11 (Plans)
Supplies and Styles: Canvas, Stain (In answer to the question of why it happened, I offer the modest proposal that our Universe is simply one of those things which happen from time to time. - Edward P. Tryon), Novelty Beads (Image)
Word Count: 722
Rating: Uh... PG-13ish
Warnings: Offscreen death and tragedy and onscreen dealing with it.
Summary: How Diana met Emma and the sidhe. Comments, criticism, and questions are all appreciated.
The first day there was talking for several hours, mostly around her and not to her. Someone gave her a warm drink and gave her clean clothes to change into, and then she cried until she fell asleep. The police woke her up, wanting to know what happened. She didn't know what to tell them. She didn't know what to tell people when they came around asking how It had started, or how she felt, or what she'd done, and no one seemed inclined to tell her what had happened, or where her parents were, or what had happened to her eye.
So time passed. At some point she was put in a car and taken to a hotel. Someone bought her pizza she didn't want to eat. She fell asleep with her clothes on.
Sleep was blessedly dreamless.
*
The next day she was still in the hotel, and the day after that. It was a quiet place, all soft colors, and the bed was super fluffy, especially with the painkillers she'd been given. People were still coming in and out at all hours and asking her questions, and between that she spent most of the day crying or staring numbly at the ceiling. Some part of her mind had pieced together that everything terrible had actually happened and it wasn't all a dream. Her Mom was dead. Her Dad was... she'd seen him die. Maybe some of the other things were dreams, like seeing through her Dad's eyes or the gun thing or the floaty whale, but she couldn't be certain.
At some point on the third day some very professional-sounding people took her to the hospital for several hours and gave her an eyepatch and some different little pills and several sheets of paper that were supposedly explanations. On the ride back, some other people came in and told her that her family was coming up to plan the funeral and "help figure out what to do next". She had no idea which family. They all lived so far away. Would she have to go live with one of them? Would they try to stay here? Her father's family might at least have that option, her aunt and cousins that lived somewhere down near Florida. It was them or... she didn't know what. It was go live somewhere else, maybe far away, with people she barely knew, or be an orphan. She wished she could call her friends without having to tell them anything. She wished someone would come in and tell her what she was supposed to do. No one had asked if she wanted to go back to school, or what she wanted at all, and she didn't know what she would say if they did. She didn't know what anything meant, and she wanted to punch something.
Sleep continued to be dreamless, and her waking hours became a stream of almost-hallucinations in the one eye and blurry light-smears in the other. She slept a lot, until she realized she wasn't alone.
There were three people she kept seeing. They were there when she looked out the windows, and when she left to wander around the hallways of the hotel. None of them seemed to be police, and they didn't seem like a family staying at the hotel. One was a guy a few years older than her, tall and messy-haired and darker-skinned, with tattoos that were obvious even under the long-sleeved shirts he wore. He would've been intimidating if he weren't kind of cute, and if the other two weren't an older white guy who looked like Jerry Garcia and the woman who'd pulled her out of the house.
At first the woman was just a shape out the window that made her stomach tighten. She didn't recognize her until she heard her voice down the hall, quiet and firm; that part of her memory was a blur. She watched the group more intently after that. Anger and resentment simmered deeper the more she thought about it. What did they want? Were they keeping her there for some reason? Did they know what happened to her Dad?
She watched them out the window with an empty stare, feeling sick when they smiled or spoke to each other. One day, the woman turned around and stared right back.
Story: All Great Things
Colors: Famous #25 (I scream "Mom and Dad, why can't I be who I wanna be?"), Blue Opal #11 (Plans)
Supplies and Styles: Canvas, Stain (In answer to the question of why it happened, I offer the modest proposal that our Universe is simply one of those things which happen from time to time. - Edward P. Tryon), Novelty Beads (Image)
Word Count: 722
Rating: Uh... PG-13ish
Warnings: Offscreen death and tragedy and onscreen dealing with it.
Summary: How Diana met Emma and the sidhe. Comments, criticism, and questions are all appreciated.
The first day there was talking for several hours, mostly around her and not to her. Someone gave her a warm drink and gave her clean clothes to change into, and then she cried until she fell asleep. The police woke her up, wanting to know what happened. She didn't know what to tell them. She didn't know what to tell people when they came around asking how It had started, or how she felt, or what she'd done, and no one seemed inclined to tell her what had happened, or where her parents were, or what had happened to her eye.
So time passed. At some point she was put in a car and taken to a hotel. Someone bought her pizza she didn't want to eat. She fell asleep with her clothes on.
Sleep was blessedly dreamless.
*
The next day she was still in the hotel, and the day after that. It was a quiet place, all soft colors, and the bed was super fluffy, especially with the painkillers she'd been given. People were still coming in and out at all hours and asking her questions, and between that she spent most of the day crying or staring numbly at the ceiling. Some part of her mind had pieced together that everything terrible had actually happened and it wasn't all a dream. Her Mom was dead. Her Dad was... she'd seen him die. Maybe some of the other things were dreams, like seeing through her Dad's eyes or the gun thing or the floaty whale, but she couldn't be certain.
At some point on the third day some very professional-sounding people took her to the hospital for several hours and gave her an eyepatch and some different little pills and several sheets of paper that were supposedly explanations. On the ride back, some other people came in and told her that her family was coming up to plan the funeral and "help figure out what to do next". She had no idea which family. They all lived so far away. Would she have to go live with one of them? Would they try to stay here? Her father's family might at least have that option, her aunt and cousins that lived somewhere down near Florida. It was them or... she didn't know what. It was go live somewhere else, maybe far away, with people she barely knew, or be an orphan. She wished she could call her friends without having to tell them anything. She wished someone would come in and tell her what she was supposed to do. No one had asked if she wanted to go back to school, or what she wanted at all, and she didn't know what she would say if they did. She didn't know what anything meant, and she wanted to punch something.
Sleep continued to be dreamless, and her waking hours became a stream of almost-hallucinations in the one eye and blurry light-smears in the other. She slept a lot, until she realized she wasn't alone.
There were three people she kept seeing. They were there when she looked out the windows, and when she left to wander around the hallways of the hotel. None of them seemed to be police, and they didn't seem like a family staying at the hotel. One was a guy a few years older than her, tall and messy-haired and darker-skinned, with tattoos that were obvious even under the long-sleeved shirts he wore. He would've been intimidating if he weren't kind of cute, and if the other two weren't an older white guy who looked like Jerry Garcia and the woman who'd pulled her out of the house.
At first the woman was just a shape out the window that made her stomach tighten. She didn't recognize her until she heard her voice down the hall, quiet and firm; that part of her memory was a blur. She watched the group more intently after that. Anger and resentment simmered deeper the more she thought about it. What did they want? Were they keeping her there for some reason? Did they know what happened to her Dad?
She watched them out the window with an empty stare, feeling sick when they smiled or spoke to each other. One day, the woman turned around and stared right back.
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Thanks for reading.
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I will try to figure out what happens next! Thanks for reading.
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Thanks for reading!
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no subject