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rainbowfic2013-10-27 11:34 pm
greenling) wrote in rainbowfic2013-10-27 11:34 pm
Dirt Brown #2
Name: Greenling
Story: Asking for Roses
Colors: Dirt Brown #2 (Barren)
Supplies and Styles: Canvas, Paint by Numbers (your paradise is long forgotten)
Word Count: 607
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Summary: More Jaymie backstory, after Fall Back. He sorts things out in more detail and tries to figure out what to do next.
Comments, criticism, and questions are all appreciated. Tiny edit: fixed sentence that was missing the last few words.
In snatched moments of time, he came back to himself; between the night and morning his head felt clearer. Two men had confronted him, he remembered, and he ran. He ran all night and slept in a shadow, and when the sunlight came and failed to melt him, he knew again he was home.
It went without saying that he was out of step with the world. Crises could come later, after he had something to eat. He came to a place that smelled of food, hair shining and eyes hollow, weaving a story with his actions.
I want- sorry, things haven't been- there was a problem- money? of course it's gone-
The woman at the counter glowed with life, voice steady as a chorus, sympathy in the curve of her face. His hand brushed hers, icy cold, and she would have given him everything she owned to fill the void that entered her heart. (Without thinking, without realizing what it meant; she turned away, and he shuddered in disgust at what he had done, but he took the food.)
And so he sat, at a table at the edge of the patio, picking at an Artisan Egg Salad Sandwich, all caps, whatever that meant, reminding himself what humidity felt like, where he had been, and where he was going.
He didn't remember what those men had wanted, or who they were; he was slowly remembering what he had been doing before he'd run off screaming. He remembered- or maybe he'd dreamt- hiding out in the bushes in front of his parents' house, watching. The world was subtly different; the city was still the city, and the cars didn't fly, but the streets were a little different and everyone seemed to be carrying tiny hand-sized laptops. He wondered how long he'd been gone.
There was a hole in his memory of unknown size; it had been early spring last he remembered, edging into mid-March, and he'd been in New York. His career was taking off, he was getting paid damn well, there was a party at least once a week, and he was damn near covered in attractive women. There were certainly... issues, but his overall memory was positive, cast into sharp relief by the low-level terror that had yet to leave him. He remembered a man in a dark suit; he remembered, quite clearly, the bargain the man had offered and what had happened when he'd refused. His memories weren't so sharp and clear that they felt like yesterday, but they certainly felt more recent than the weather suggested.
He took a bite, and it occurred to him what his name was. That was good enough news that he smiled even as he realized that it hadn't occurred to him before.
Jaymie (he thought happily as he took another bite) wasn't sure what his options were. He didn't want to sleep outside again, had no idea how long he'd been wandering or how he'd gotten back from That Place (wherever it was exactly). Something had happened to him, and he felt different now. Hollow, like he took up less space- like he was less real than before. He needed to figure out where to go next.
He thought back to his parents' house; he could go there, if it hadn't been too long. He could go to the library, get a phone book or something, see if his mother was listed anywhere under Pediatricians.
Across the street, a car had parked. It had been there for a while, and it was nothing special, but there was something familiar about it, hanging out in his peripheral vision.
Story: Asking for Roses
Colors: Dirt Brown #2 (Barren)
Supplies and Styles: Canvas, Paint by Numbers (your paradise is long forgotten)
Word Count: 607
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Summary: More Jaymie backstory, after Fall Back. He sorts things out in more detail and tries to figure out what to do next.
Comments, criticism, and questions are all appreciated. Tiny edit: fixed sentence that was missing the last few words.
In snatched moments of time, he came back to himself; between the night and morning his head felt clearer. Two men had confronted him, he remembered, and he ran. He ran all night and slept in a shadow, and when the sunlight came and failed to melt him, he knew again he was home.
It went without saying that he was out of step with the world. Crises could come later, after he had something to eat. He came to a place that smelled of food, hair shining and eyes hollow, weaving a story with his actions.
I want- sorry, things haven't been- there was a problem- money? of course it's gone-
The woman at the counter glowed with life, voice steady as a chorus, sympathy in the curve of her face. His hand brushed hers, icy cold, and she would have given him everything she owned to fill the void that entered her heart. (Without thinking, without realizing what it meant; she turned away, and he shuddered in disgust at what he had done, but he took the food.)
And so he sat, at a table at the edge of the patio, picking at an Artisan Egg Salad Sandwich, all caps, whatever that meant, reminding himself what humidity felt like, where he had been, and where he was going.
He didn't remember what those men had wanted, or who they were; he was slowly remembering what he had been doing before he'd run off screaming. He remembered- or maybe he'd dreamt- hiding out in the bushes in front of his parents' house, watching. The world was subtly different; the city was still the city, and the cars didn't fly, but the streets were a little different and everyone seemed to be carrying tiny hand-sized laptops. He wondered how long he'd been gone.
There was a hole in his memory of unknown size; it had been early spring last he remembered, edging into mid-March, and he'd been in New York. His career was taking off, he was getting paid damn well, there was a party at least once a week, and he was damn near covered in attractive women. There were certainly... issues, but his overall memory was positive, cast into sharp relief by the low-level terror that had yet to leave him. He remembered a man in a dark suit; he remembered, quite clearly, the bargain the man had offered and what had happened when he'd refused. His memories weren't so sharp and clear that they felt like yesterday, but they certainly felt more recent than the weather suggested.
He took a bite, and it occurred to him what his name was. That was good enough news that he smiled even as he realized that it hadn't occurred to him before.
Jaymie (he thought happily as he took another bite) wasn't sure what his options were. He didn't want to sleep outside again, had no idea how long he'd been wandering or how he'd gotten back from That Place (wherever it was exactly). Something had happened to him, and he felt different now. Hollow, like he took up less space- like he was less real than before. He needed to figure out where to go next.
He thought back to his parents' house; he could go there, if it hadn't been too long. He could go to the library, get a phone book or something, see if his mother was listed anywhere under Pediatricians.
Across the street, a car had parked. It had been there for a while, and it was nothing special, but there was something familiar about it, hanging out in his peripheral vision.
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