Jack (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
finch) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
rainbowfic2014-03-11 10:03 pm
finch) wrote in rainbowfic2014-03-11 10:03 pm
White Cross, Fire Opal: Timber
Name: Jack
Story:commonplace
Colors: White Cross 4. Lost Boys, Fire Opal 7. Lusting after (shipwreck_light's "The legends were true. But, could anything be so beautiful in person?")
Supplies and Styles: Paint-by-number
Word Count: ~400
Rating: R-ish?
Notes: You better move, you better dance/Let's make a night you won't remember/I'll be the one you won't forget -Pitbull ft. Ke$ha, Timber. Thanks top_cocincinus for reminding me about this.
Oc Ha was not a tall woman in her human form, but she strode across the dance floor with a regal bearing, hips swinging in time with the backbeat, and the crowd parted unconsciously. Her target already had a woman in his arms, but she all but ran when Oc Ha made eye contact with her. The man looked up, a split-second of anger on his face, but the look fled when he saw her. Instead he smiled.
"Dance with me, mortal," she ordered, and if he thought her choice of endearment was strange, he didn't say so.
She slid close to him, so close he could get drunk off her feywine-smelling sweat, so close he could put his hands on her leather pants, though some half-buried survival instinct told him not to. He did as she commanded, feet flying over the tile club floor, his body in unspoken sync with hers.
He gave up control to exhaustion after the third or fourth song; it was hard to tell as the DJ melted one smoothly into the next. His body carried on, and though his feet hurt as if he danced on coals, his mind soared through other places entirely. Whatever she asked of him, he gave willingly.
When he woke, his phone said it was noon and he'd missed a dozen calls and texts asking where he was. The answer, he realized slowly, was the park three blocks over from the club. Every muscle hurt, and when he stood, he realized his shoes were worn to nothing.
The phone chirped again in his hand and this time he replied to
No, he didn't remember more than the smell of her and the motion of her hair, the way light fractured against her and she glowed, but no details to fill in the outline or explain how he'd ended up here.
When he flipped back through his texts, though, he saw one from an unrecognized number sporting an area code he didn't recognize.
Story:
commonplaceColors: White Cross 4. Lost Boys, Fire Opal 7. Lusting after (
shipwreck_light's "The legends were true. But, could anything be so beautiful in person?")Supplies and Styles: Paint-by-number
Word Count: ~400
Rating: R-ish?
Notes: You better move, you better dance/Let's make a night you won't remember/I'll be the one you won't forget -Pitbull ft. Ke$ha, Timber. Thanks to
p_cocincinus for reminding me about this.Oc Ha was not a tall woman in her human form, but she strode across the dance floor with a regal bearing, hips swinging in time with the backbeat, and the crowd parted unconsciously. Her target already had a woman in his arms, but she all but ran when Oc Ha made eye contact with her. The man looked up, a split-second of anger on his face, but the look fled when he saw her. Instead he smiled.
"Dance with me, mortal," she ordered, and if he thought her choice of endearment was strange, he didn't say so.
She slid close to him, so close he could get drunk off her feywine-smelling sweat, so close he could put his hands on her leather pants, though some half-buried survival instinct told him not to. He did as she commanded, feet flying over the tile club floor, his body in unspoken sync with hers.
He gave up control to exhaustion after the third or fourth song; it was hard to tell as the DJ melted one smoothly into the next. His body carried on, and though his feet hurt as if he danced on coals, his mind soared through other places entirely. Whatever she asked of him, he gave willingly.
When he woke, his phone said it was noon and he'd missed a dozen calls and texts asking where he was. The answer, he realized slowly, was the park three blocks over from the club. Every muscle hurt, and when he stood, he realized his shoes were worn to nothing.
The phone chirped again in his hand and this time he replied to
you dead, man? with what happened last night?you don't remember?No, he didn't remember more than the smell of her and the motion of her hair, the way light fractured against her and she glowed, but no details to fill in the outline or explain how he'd ended up here.
When he flipped back through his texts, though, he saw one from an unrecognized number sporting an area code he didn't recognize.
call me if you're ever in yaanga, it said. i had fun
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That was pretty much what I was going for so I'm thrilled that's what you took from it. :)
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There are many reasons I love you, but the fact you see fit to place phrases such as that in stories would be one of them. Also that you dress morally lacking deities in leather pants.
OBVIOUSLY THE AREA CODE OF AWESOME.
Yes.
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You'd be surprised how many of my gods can be found in leather pants. coughchenek*cough*
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I'm glad you liked it! Thanks for reading.
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Hee! Glad you liked it!