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rainbowfic2013-12-04 07:47 pm
shadowsong26) wrote in rainbowfic2013-12-04 07:47 pm
Glitter #10, Transparent #21, Fake Blood Red #8
Name: shadowsong26
Story: Understand
'Verse: Lux
Colors: Glitter #10. Luck be a lady. - Guys and Dolls, Transparent #21. Superficial, Fake Blood Red #8. Oh, my brain!
Supplies and Materials: eraser (Ruth AU), feathers, glitter ("Love is a beautiful fear." – Quote from Elite, by Kiera Cass), glue ("When you consider your recent experiences, you can't help but realize how many wonderful blessings are present in your life, even if there are no fireworks currently lighting up the sky.")
Word Count: 684
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Simon, Ruth
Warnings: Discussion of amnesia, uncomfortable romantic situation, discussion of immortality. If I missed any, please let me know.
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always.
“I don’t understand,” Ruth said, slowly.
He looked down at his hands. “I hardly understand it myself.” He took a deep breath. “But I’m sure I remember everything correctly now.”
“But it’s not possible.”
“I think it’s a punishment,” he said. God knows I’ve seen more impossible things than my own lifetimes.
She brushed his hand lightly. “Punishment?”
“I killed a man,” he said. “In my original lifetime. Or…I caused his death, I didn’t…it’s complicated.” He couldn’t put the right names to the story—not now, not until she believed the rest of it and he knew she forgave him for it. Or at least didn’t hate him.
He needed her not to hate him, more than he’d ever needed anything before. More even than he’d thought he’d needed death, all the times he’d tried.
She was silent for a moment. “There are…a lot of murderers. And deaths from human error are even more common. No one else becomes immortal from it.”
“I know,” he said. “But…the same being that takes away my memories is responsible, I think. I don’t know, Michaela doesn’t really tell me much.”
“Michaela?” Ruth asked.
“That’s the name I was told to use.”
“For this person who takes your memories away.”
“Yes.” He didn’t blame her for not believing him. He probably wouldn’t, if he hadn’t lived it.
“Why does she do it?”
He blinked, and finally looked up at her. “Do what? Keep me alive or take my memories?”
“Your memories,” Ruth clarified.
“I…” He trailed off, thinking. “To keep me…” Safe, he wanted to say, and there were periods where he was sure that was true—if he didn’t know, he couldn’t let anything slip and be harmed for it.
Happy, was another answer, and he figured it was the one Michaela would give. And he was happy, to an extent, when he didn’t remember.
Controlled, was probably just as good an answer. Whatever Michaela did to his mind probably left marks, made it impossible to hide. Even if he wanted to.
“Yes?” Ruth pressed.
“…I don’t know. To keep me,” he said. “For whatever that’s worth.”
She still seemed skeptical, and he was beginning to figure this had all been an awful mistake. Even if remembering her was the first glimpse of long-term peace he’d had since…since before everything had gone to hell in his original lifetime…
It wasn’t fair to her.
None of this was.
He pulled away from her. “I shouldn’t have come.”
“Yes, you should have,” she shot back. “I don’t…I don’t know how much of this I believe, because none of it makes sense, but at least I know you’re alive. And that you didn’t walk away by choice.”
You could argue I chose it two thousand years ago, a small voice inside him said, but he did his best to ignore it.
You could prove it to her, another voice said, and that he considered, briefly, before realizing exactly how terrible an idea that would be. Knowing what he was was bad enough. She didn’t need to see him fail to die.
“What do you want me to do?” he finally asked.
“I don’t know,” she said, after a long silence. “I need some time to think.”
“Of course,” he said.
“Can you see me next week, sometime?” Ruth asked.
He hesitated. “I can’t…I can’t know when Michaela will come for me again. So I can’t promise anything. Usually I have a few years, but…”
“I can…accept that, for now,” she said. “But I would still like to try to see you again. Next week. Sometime.”
He slumped a little, with relief—she didn’t believe him, not really, but she didn’t hate him, either. She wasn’t completely writing him off. “Yes,” he whispered.
“Give me a number to reach you,” she said. “I’ll be in touch.”
He wrote it down and handed it to her. “When you’re ready.”
She nodded, and slipped it into your purse. “I’ll call you. I promise,” she said, then walked away.
I’ll be waiting, he answered, in his head. For as long as Michaela lets me.
Story: Understand
'Verse: Lux
Colors: Glitter #10. Luck be a lady. - Guys and Dolls, Transparent #21. Superficial, Fake Blood Red #8. Oh, my brain!
Supplies and Materials: eraser (Ruth AU), feathers, glitter ("Love is a beautiful fear." – Quote from Elite, by Kiera Cass), glue ("When you consider your recent experiences, you can't help but realize how many wonderful blessings are present in your life, even if there are no fireworks currently lighting up the sky.")
Word Count: 684
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Simon, Ruth
Warnings: Discussion of amnesia, uncomfortable romantic situation, discussion of immortality. If I missed any, please let me know.
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always.
“I don’t understand,” Ruth said, slowly.
He looked down at his hands. “I hardly understand it myself.” He took a deep breath. “But I’m sure I remember everything correctly now.”
“But it’s not possible.”
“I think it’s a punishment,” he said. God knows I’ve seen more impossible things than my own lifetimes.
She brushed his hand lightly. “Punishment?”
“I killed a man,” he said. “In my original lifetime. Or…I caused his death, I didn’t…it’s complicated.” He couldn’t put the right names to the story—not now, not until she believed the rest of it and he knew she forgave him for it. Or at least didn’t hate him.
He needed her not to hate him, more than he’d ever needed anything before. More even than he’d thought he’d needed death, all the times he’d tried.
She was silent for a moment. “There are…a lot of murderers. And deaths from human error are even more common. No one else becomes immortal from it.”
“I know,” he said. “But…the same being that takes away my memories is responsible, I think. I don’t know, Michaela doesn’t really tell me much.”
“Michaela?” Ruth asked.
“That’s the name I was told to use.”
“For this person who takes your memories away.”
“Yes.” He didn’t blame her for not believing him. He probably wouldn’t, if he hadn’t lived it.
“Why does she do it?”
He blinked, and finally looked up at her. “Do what? Keep me alive or take my memories?”
“Your memories,” Ruth clarified.
“I…” He trailed off, thinking. “To keep me…” Safe, he wanted to say, and there were periods where he was sure that was true—if he didn’t know, he couldn’t let anything slip and be harmed for it.
Happy, was another answer, and he figured it was the one Michaela would give. And he was happy, to an extent, when he didn’t remember.
Controlled, was probably just as good an answer. Whatever Michaela did to his mind probably left marks, made it impossible to hide. Even if he wanted to.
“Yes?” Ruth pressed.
“…I don’t know. To keep me,” he said. “For whatever that’s worth.”
She still seemed skeptical, and he was beginning to figure this had all been an awful mistake. Even if remembering her was the first glimpse of long-term peace he’d had since…since before everything had gone to hell in his original lifetime…
It wasn’t fair to her.
None of this was.
He pulled away from her. “I shouldn’t have come.”
“Yes, you should have,” she shot back. “I don’t…I don’t know how much of this I believe, because none of it makes sense, but at least I know you’re alive. And that you didn’t walk away by choice.”
You could argue I chose it two thousand years ago, a small voice inside him said, but he did his best to ignore it.
You could prove it to her, another voice said, and that he considered, briefly, before realizing exactly how terrible an idea that would be. Knowing what he was was bad enough. She didn’t need to see him fail to die.
“What do you want me to do?” he finally asked.
“I don’t know,” she said, after a long silence. “I need some time to think.”
“Of course,” he said.
“Can you see me next week, sometime?” Ruth asked.
He hesitated. “I can’t…I can’t know when Michaela will come for me again. So I can’t promise anything. Usually I have a few years, but…”
“I can…accept that, for now,” she said. “But I would still like to try to see you again. Next week. Sometime.”
He slumped a little, with relief—she didn’t believe him, not really, but she didn’t hate him, either. She wasn’t completely writing him off. “Yes,” he whispered.
“Give me a number to reach you,” she said. “I’ll be in touch.”
He wrote it down and handed it to her. “When you’re ready.”
She nodded, and slipped it into your purse. “I’ll call you. I promise,” she said, then walked away.
I’ll be waiting, he answered, in his head. For as long as Michaela lets me.