amaranthh (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
greenling) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
rainbowfic2013-10-31 03:45 am
greenling) wrote in rainbowfic2013-10-31 03:45 am
Harvest Gold #5, Dirt Brown #21
Name: Greenling
Story: Asking for Roses
Colors: Harvest Gold #5 (orange and gold), Dirt Brown #21 (Stability)
Supplies and Styles: Paint by Numbers (hundred years, hundred more)
Word Count: 309
Rating: G
Warnings: None.
Summary: Jaymie tries to find someone to talk to about the monster.
Comments, criticism, and questions are all appreciated.
Katrina Song's house was old; not just seventies pink old, or Art Deco old, but old enough that there was a little sign out front for the National Register of Historic Places. It was broad, flat, and stucco, and from what Jaymie could see driving up, it looked like it had once been a monastery or something. He wouldn't be surprised, with some of these people.
He'd tried calling Celeste, but no one had answered. She was the only person whose number he'd even bothered which, which caused no end of frustration at the moment. Finally, getting desperate (and hoping he was doing the right thing), he'd looked up the names of every fey he could remember in the city, hoping at least one of them had an internet presence and an approachable-looking face.
Somehow, she was home, and somehow, he charmed his way to the door; it wasn't easy sounding stuffily important to an intercom system manned by a butler who sounded like he was about a million years old, but Jaymie managed it. He thanked the bobblehead Ganesh on his dash as he drove up the driveway, poking its little blue elephant head.
She came to the door dressed to the nines, as the old movies used to say, and for a moment he felt like he was in one; she was one of those who came back a little different from others, not made of stone or light or with replacement body parts, but just better, as if molded to some higher, inhuman ideal. Better-looking, at least. He recognized her dress, deep blood orange and 40-karat gold. He felt his head swim a little, and realized she was doing something to him.
"Good afternoon- is it afternoon already?" He fought off the smile coming to his face. "The time just flies, doesn't it? Is this important?"
Story: Asking for Roses
Colors: Harvest Gold #5 (orange and gold), Dirt Brown #21 (Stability)
Supplies and Styles: Paint by Numbers (hundred years, hundred more)
Word Count: 309
Rating: G
Warnings: None.
Summary: Jaymie tries to find someone to talk to about the monster.
Comments, criticism, and questions are all appreciated.
Katrina Song's house was old; not just seventies pink old, or Art Deco old, but old enough that there was a little sign out front for the National Register of Historic Places. It was broad, flat, and stucco, and from what Jaymie could see driving up, it looked like it had once been a monastery or something. He wouldn't be surprised, with some of these people.
He'd tried calling Celeste, but no one had answered. She was the only person whose number he'd even bothered which, which caused no end of frustration at the moment. Finally, getting desperate (and hoping he was doing the right thing), he'd looked up the names of every fey he could remember in the city, hoping at least one of them had an internet presence and an approachable-looking face.
Somehow, she was home, and somehow, he charmed his way to the door; it wasn't easy sounding stuffily important to an intercom system manned by a butler who sounded like he was about a million years old, but Jaymie managed it. He thanked the bobblehead Ganesh on his dash as he drove up the driveway, poking its little blue elephant head.
She came to the door dressed to the nines, as the old movies used to say, and for a moment he felt like he was in one; she was one of those who came back a little different from others, not made of stone or light or with replacement body parts, but just better, as if molded to some higher, inhuman ideal. Better-looking, at least. He recognized her dress, deep blood orange and 40-karat gold. He felt his head swim a little, and realized she was doing something to him.
"Good afternoon- is it afternoon already?" He fought off the smile coming to his face. "The time just flies, doesn't it? Is this important?"