The Autumn Child (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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rainbowfic2013-05-17 04:26 am
sharpeningthebones) wrote in rainbowfic2013-05-17 04:26 am
Quill Grey, Halloween Orange
Name: Charley
Story: And The Devil Makes Three
Colors: Quill Grey: Writing comes more easily if you have something to say. - Sholem Asch
Halloween Orange: By the time you see the patterns, it's a hundred times too late.
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Notes: I felt like doing a bit of Percival babble type thing and yes. So there's a bit on Percival and Johna nd their adorable and writing and...things.
He knew that, when John had taken him on as a client, he thought the stories he told were fiction. Most everyone thought that way, they believed that he was just a creative mind telling the stories in his head.
They had no idea that he was much more of a historian filling in the gaps with his own theories, rather than a fiction writer.
Percival honestly didn't care what people thought of him. He just wanted to be allowed to tell the stories that his brother passed down to him, keep them alive for others to read and remember. He believed in stories, believed in the transfer of information, believed in learning everything you could, even if it was just through "fiction".
When John realized that it was more than fiction, more than just Percival being creative, it was far too late for hm to pull away. He had been established as his agent for a while, become his friend and was well on his way to becoming ore than that. He couldn't pull away and Percival knew that.
Even so, sometimes he lay in bed, waiting for the knock on his door that was John announcing his departure. He was sure it was coming at one point or another, that he would have and enough of angels and mysteries and potential wars.
But he never did and Percival was more than grateful to whatever god may be hiding.
And so, instead of leaving John helped him continue to tell stories that no one knew was true. He took care of all the things Percival couldn't, and all the things he didn't want to, even though eh probably should have done some of it himself. They grew and became tangled up and tied into one another until there was no denying that they were bound to each other.
Story: And The Devil Makes Three
Colors: Quill Grey: Writing comes more easily if you have something to say. - Sholem Asch
Halloween Orange: By the time you see the patterns, it's a hundred times too late.
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Notes: I felt like doing a bit of Percival babble type thing and yes. So there's a bit on Percival and Johna nd their adorable and writing and...things.
He knew that, when John had taken him on as a client, he thought the stories he told were fiction. Most everyone thought that way, they believed that he was just a creative mind telling the stories in his head.
They had no idea that he was much more of a historian filling in the gaps with his own theories, rather than a fiction writer.
Percival honestly didn't care what people thought of him. He just wanted to be allowed to tell the stories that his brother passed down to him, keep them alive for others to read and remember. He believed in stories, believed in the transfer of information, believed in learning everything you could, even if it was just through "fiction".
When John realized that it was more than fiction, more than just Percival being creative, it was far too late for hm to pull away. He had been established as his agent for a while, become his friend and was well on his way to becoming ore than that. He couldn't pull away and Percival knew that.
Even so, sometimes he lay in bed, waiting for the knock on his door that was John announcing his departure. He was sure it was coming at one point or another, that he would have and enough of angels and mysteries and potential wars.
But he never did and Percival was more than grateful to whatever god may be hiding.
And so, instead of leaving John helped him continue to tell stories that no one knew was true. He took care of all the things Percival couldn't, and all the things he didn't want to, even though eh probably should have done some of it himself. They grew and became tangled up and tied into one another until there was no denying that they were bound to each other.
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