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)
rainbowfic2014-06-25 03:52 pm
greenling) wrote in rainbowfic2014-06-25 03:52 pm
Daffodil #14, Lawn Green #13/Camo Green #4
Name: Greenling
Story: All Great Things
Colors: Daffodil #14 (spring break), Lawn Green #13 (sunscreen)/Camo Green #4 (marines)
Supplies and Styles: Novelty Beads (Nobody understands anyone 18, including those who are 18. - Jim Bishop), Canvas, Bichromatic (Lawn Green/Camo Green)
Word Count: 2,017
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Summary: Dmitry, Lance, Peace, Diana, Kevin. Everyone lives in their own little world into which other people occasionally throw interference. Other than that, the novelty bead about covers it.
Comments, criticism, and questions are all appreciated.
It was late enough that Dmitry could tell the sun had set even through the pinned-sheet privacy screen around his bed. He lay facing the wall, reading by his little bed lamp with dinner heavy in his stomach. Rudeth had skipped lasagna night to go out with his friends, and Dmitry didn't care. Steadfastly and utterly, he didn't care.
They'd grown apart lately. Well. Dmitry had grown apart. Rudeth still thought Dmitry was being stupid, studying constantly, refusing to hang out with Rudeth's friends, applying to colleges several states away. Getting in. Like it was Dmitry's goddamned fault that Rudeth didn't care enough to take AP classes and thought Ohio State was an accomplishment. And since Dmitry wouldn't lower himself to following his brother around just to have something to do, now he had no plans whatsoever for spring break.
Mom had said he was overreacting, when she actually got between them about this. Normally she was... well, she was their mother, so when she didn't step in to make them get along, it was notable. Dmitry had read, years ago, that twins naturally tried to differentiate themselves, or something like that, but he and Rudeth had always been just different enough that they hadn't ever felt the need to. One or two tweaked personality traits had made them completely different people. On the other hand, they still slept in the same bunk bed they'd had since they were ten, still shared some of their shirts, still had a lifetime of being introduced in the same breath. Dmitry wasn't philosophical enough to understand what the hell was going on now.
In six months it wouldn't matter. They'd both be out of the house and gone. In the meantime, he hoped to be finished with his book and asleep by the time Rudeth came home.
--
"No."
Jeff sat dumbstruck; the bottle of vodka sloshed in his hand. The look on his face- well, Jeff was always overdramatic, and maybe he was tipsy already, but it was a look of horror.
"No, man, no. You're shitting me. Please tell me you're shitting me."
"I'm not. It's not a bad job-"
"Lance. Dude." Jeff sat his hand on Lance's shoulder; Lance couldn't look him in the eyes. "Maybe this whole self-esteem thing hasn't quite gotten through your head yet. You could get any job. You could go to Oxford and the Ivy League at the same time if you wanted. You're polite, clean-cut, literally a choir boy, your family is adorable, and I'm pretty certain that if my Dad thought it would keep me out of trouble he would personally blow the Dean of Princeton to get you a spot, if all that somehow failed. And- they have ROTC! So as your friend, dude..."
Jeff trailed off at this point, giving Lance a moment to breathe. He didn't have much of a plan past telling Jeff, hearing his objections, and... not budging. Maybe not curling up in on himself, either, but he hadn't expected to have good luck with that even before he'd realized Jeff's graduation present involved heading out to an abandoned farm at sunset.
Jeff had actually stopped, and was waiting for Lance to respond. There was a brief awkward silence.
"Look, I don't know what college I want to go to, and I don't want to take a year off doing something useless," Lance attempted, still not looking at Jeff. "This way I can build valuable job skills, and get money for college afterward."
"You could get money by telling people you're the next Stephen Hawking and applying for a scholarship. Or going into business, or I could help you out, or anything that doesn't involve you getting shot at- is this about your Dad?"
Lance rubbed his eyes and gave Jeff a sour look that didn't seem to register. "One: no. And, you know, bite me. Wanting to make my family proud and, continuing a tradition, that would not be a bad motivation. But it's not my primary reason." His hand was still on Lance's shoulder, which perhaps ironically was making him more confident, though his words were still coming out in chunks. "Two, please don't call me that, and, three... if I asked you for something like that, I don't think I could respect myself. Okay? You're my friend, not some kind of... social climbing tool."
Jeff's hand carefully slipped off to scratch his leg, perhaps realizing his miscalculation. He sat in thought for a moment before replying. "Okay, yeah... one, I'm sorry. Shouldn't've gone there. Two- no. Three," Jeff dropped his thoughtful look and grinned one of his feral grins, "where I'm from we call that networking."
"Where you're from, people like me don't talk to people like you." It was an infectious grin.
Jeff clapped his hands together, shaking the bottle again. "You're right! They're all nuts. Move to table discussion of your stupid ideas and move on to more booze and fireworks."
"Fw- fireworks?" Lance blinked.
"Tch. Did you think I dragged you out here to talk about our feelings and stare at plants?" Jeff jumped to his feet and dashed off towards his car, leaving Lance behind in the grass.
--
No amount of mid-April chill could keep out the hordes of high-schoolers who piled into the water park every year, and that year was no exception. The largest "summer entertainment complex" in three counties, not only was it stuffed full of your standard slides and swimming pools, plus go karts, refreshments, and a decent arcade, but its main attraction was an actual, honest-to-God, two-and-a-quarter-acre white sand beach on an actual, honest-to-God, only-semi-manmade lake. Three days of rain through the first weekend of spring break only meant that Monday it was packed to the proverbial gills with just about any kid not well-off enough to drive to the actual ocean. Which, at Peace's school, was most of them.
And so it was that bright and early-afternoon that day, Peace hit the beach with some moderately popular people of his acquaintance and, more importantly, Kenzie Hannigan, possibly the hottest girl to join band class in the history of the subject. It was a good day. The sun shone over the lake through a wet blue haze of leftover rainclouds, ramping up the humidity and making it feel like early summer. They grabbed an empty spot as soon as they came in, setting up camp near the waterline, in a circle of towels under a large rented umbrella.
They talked, they splashed around in the water, they took over a volleyball net, they talked more. No one thought about what. It might have been two hours before someone's stomach loudly growled, the first time anyone noticed that Kenzie was gone. Orders were taken, she was mentioned offhand, someone shrugged; Peace grabbed a towel and volunteered to get the refreshments.
The food and drink vendors lined a pseudo-boardwalk between the lakeshore and the arcades; the rest of the water park side was a ways off. She saw him before he saw her; he felt someone staring a hole in the back of his head, glanced over, and there she was, alone at a small table, neglecting a soda. He frowned; she glanced away. By the time he got up to the counter, she was gone.
Five orders later, she was back again, leaning against a brick wall, hands behind her back. Her ponytail had come undone a little and was scattered into the bangs around her face; the freckles on her cheeks stood out under the pale tan she'd gotten, or maybe that was just the light.
"Hey," he said eventually.
"Hey," she replied.
"Did you, uhm." He didn't know what to say. "Did you want a hot dog or something?"
She shook her head and stopped leaning. "I don't like the beach. It's too crowded."
"Oh."
(Her expression was strange. Sad? There was a look in her eyes- but then she said:) "There are better places. Want me to show you?"
"Uhm..." Peace's reverie popped, and he shifted the weight of the drink carrier around in his hands.
"It won't take long. And since you're so nice, maybe you can help me put on some more sunscreen?"
She was barely smiling when she walked off. He followed.
--
Shattered Rock. March 15th, 3 AM. A cold, clear night with a waning moon. Temperature: freezing.
Balls freezing.
It was mornings like this she questioned why she had been so intent to join the guard. The moon hung like a tilted cheshire smile in the air over the pines, lending just enough light for her not to trip over herself. Her patrol partner, of course, was doing fine, both with seeing in the dark and with not being too obvious about having to actively trying not to leave her behind. She didn't know him, but he was clearly a local boy; after five years she could usually tell from body language, much less the tattoos on his face and the way he'd introduced himself as Last Hearth without even a trace of irony or new-kid pride. That was good. Locals knew not to ask too many questions. Fuckin' worst thing about being on the guard, past freezing dawn patrols, live weapons training, and occasionally having someone to guard against, was people asking her what a commoner had done to get assigned.
"Nothing specific," she couldn't say. Or "actually, I'm mortal". "Let me tell your future" had ended really badly the one time she'd tried a real response.
And then there was Ice.
She froze in place, realizing her partner had already stopped. He was silent, staring out at the fenceline and the deep woods beyond. The air was silent as well, and had a certain sharp stiffness to it. Nothing happened, nothing moved; the only sound was the wind and the silent hum of lights from back towards the camp. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up.
Out in the distance, a dark shape- a big dark shape- was out of place. Something that hadn't been that way the last go-round, and as far into her head as she'd been, she hadn't immediately noticed.
The weight of her sword and rifle were heavy against her thick jacket, and for a moment, she forgot the cold entirely.
--
"You know Mom and Dad don't hate you, right?"
Kevin lay on his bed, staring at the poster of Einstein sticking his tongue out hanging on his closet as if it held some answer to how he was feeling at the moment. The phone was on speaker, sitting on the pillow next to his head.
"Yeah." He kept his voice neutral.
"Then why haven't you called in a month?"
He winced. It hadn't really been that long, he was sure, but he also knew Ali wouldn't have bothered worrying about it if his parents hadn't been going on and on about it.
"Midterms."
"For a month?"
"You ever try reading like five twenty-page articles on cardiotoxins and Chaucer at the same time?"
"Tch. All right, college boy. Are you coming home for spring break at least?"
"I don't know." Kevin half-smiled, but rubbed his temples. "I think I'm coming down with something."
"Seriously?"
"Yes." He growled under his breath and immediately thought better of his tone. "Sorry. I'll talk to them. Is it really so bad you had to send me twelve Facebook messages?"
Ali was quiet for a minute. "I just... wanted to talk. Maybe, ask you some things... about college, and that stuff."
Ah. It was about her... that was more normal. The sudden undertone of uncertainty in her voice, not so much. "I can try?"
"Yeah. I mean I'm just wondering, since I haven't known what I wanted to do since I was in diapers like you did, and I don't just want to go somewhere, take out a bunch of loans, not do anything..."
Her attempts at complimenting him were not making the hollow, nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach any better. He sighed and tried to think of what to say.
Story: All Great Things
Colors: Daffodil #14 (spring break), Lawn Green #13 (sunscreen)/Camo Green #4 (marines)
Supplies and Styles: Novelty Beads (Nobody understands anyone 18, including those who are 18. - Jim Bishop), Canvas, Bichromatic (Lawn Green/Camo Green)
Word Count: 2,017
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Summary: Dmitry, Lance, Peace, Diana, Kevin. Everyone lives in their own little world into which other people occasionally throw interference. Other than that, the novelty bead about covers it.
Comments, criticism, and questions are all appreciated.
It was late enough that Dmitry could tell the sun had set even through the pinned-sheet privacy screen around his bed. He lay facing the wall, reading by his little bed lamp with dinner heavy in his stomach. Rudeth had skipped lasagna night to go out with his friends, and Dmitry didn't care. Steadfastly and utterly, he didn't care.
They'd grown apart lately. Well. Dmitry had grown apart. Rudeth still thought Dmitry was being stupid, studying constantly, refusing to hang out with Rudeth's friends, applying to colleges several states away. Getting in. Like it was Dmitry's goddamned fault that Rudeth didn't care enough to take AP classes and thought Ohio State was an accomplishment. And since Dmitry wouldn't lower himself to following his brother around just to have something to do, now he had no plans whatsoever for spring break.
Mom had said he was overreacting, when she actually got between them about this. Normally she was... well, she was their mother, so when she didn't step in to make them get along, it was notable. Dmitry had read, years ago, that twins naturally tried to differentiate themselves, or something like that, but he and Rudeth had always been just different enough that they hadn't ever felt the need to. One or two tweaked personality traits had made them completely different people. On the other hand, they still slept in the same bunk bed they'd had since they were ten, still shared some of their shirts, still had a lifetime of being introduced in the same breath. Dmitry wasn't philosophical enough to understand what the hell was going on now.
In six months it wouldn't matter. They'd both be out of the house and gone. In the meantime, he hoped to be finished with his book and asleep by the time Rudeth came home.
--
"No."
Jeff sat dumbstruck; the bottle of vodka sloshed in his hand. The look on his face- well, Jeff was always overdramatic, and maybe he was tipsy already, but it was a look of horror.
"No, man, no. You're shitting me. Please tell me you're shitting me."
"I'm not. It's not a bad job-"
"Lance. Dude." Jeff sat his hand on Lance's shoulder; Lance couldn't look him in the eyes. "Maybe this whole self-esteem thing hasn't quite gotten through your head yet. You could get any job. You could go to Oxford and the Ivy League at the same time if you wanted. You're polite, clean-cut, literally a choir boy, your family is adorable, and I'm pretty certain that if my Dad thought it would keep me out of trouble he would personally blow the Dean of Princeton to get you a spot, if all that somehow failed. And- they have ROTC! So as your friend, dude..."
Jeff trailed off at this point, giving Lance a moment to breathe. He didn't have much of a plan past telling Jeff, hearing his objections, and... not budging. Maybe not curling up in on himself, either, but he hadn't expected to have good luck with that even before he'd realized Jeff's graduation present involved heading out to an abandoned farm at sunset.
Jeff had actually stopped, and was waiting for Lance to respond. There was a brief awkward silence.
"Look, I don't know what college I want to go to, and I don't want to take a year off doing something useless," Lance attempted, still not looking at Jeff. "This way I can build valuable job skills, and get money for college afterward."
"You could get money by telling people you're the next Stephen Hawking and applying for a scholarship. Or going into business, or I could help you out, or anything that doesn't involve you getting shot at- is this about your Dad?"
Lance rubbed his eyes and gave Jeff a sour look that didn't seem to register. "One: no. And, you know, bite me. Wanting to make my family proud and, continuing a tradition, that would not be a bad motivation. But it's not my primary reason." His hand was still on Lance's shoulder, which perhaps ironically was making him more confident, though his words were still coming out in chunks. "Two, please don't call me that, and, three... if I asked you for something like that, I don't think I could respect myself. Okay? You're my friend, not some kind of... social climbing tool."
Jeff's hand carefully slipped off to scratch his leg, perhaps realizing his miscalculation. He sat in thought for a moment before replying. "Okay, yeah... one, I'm sorry. Shouldn't've gone there. Two- no. Three," Jeff dropped his thoughtful look and grinned one of his feral grins, "where I'm from we call that networking."
"Where you're from, people like me don't talk to people like you." It was an infectious grin.
Jeff clapped his hands together, shaking the bottle again. "You're right! They're all nuts. Move to table discussion of your stupid ideas and move on to more booze and fireworks."
"Fw- fireworks?" Lance blinked.
"Tch. Did you think I dragged you out here to talk about our feelings and stare at plants?" Jeff jumped to his feet and dashed off towards his car, leaving Lance behind in the grass.
--
No amount of mid-April chill could keep out the hordes of high-schoolers who piled into the water park every year, and that year was no exception. The largest "summer entertainment complex" in three counties, not only was it stuffed full of your standard slides and swimming pools, plus go karts, refreshments, and a decent arcade, but its main attraction was an actual, honest-to-God, two-and-a-quarter-acre white sand beach on an actual, honest-to-God, only-semi-manmade lake. Three days of rain through the first weekend of spring break only meant that Monday it was packed to the proverbial gills with just about any kid not well-off enough to drive to the actual ocean. Which, at Peace's school, was most of them.
And so it was that bright and early-afternoon that day, Peace hit the beach with some moderately popular people of his acquaintance and, more importantly, Kenzie Hannigan, possibly the hottest girl to join band class in the history of the subject. It was a good day. The sun shone over the lake through a wet blue haze of leftover rainclouds, ramping up the humidity and making it feel like early summer. They grabbed an empty spot as soon as they came in, setting up camp near the waterline, in a circle of towels under a large rented umbrella.
They talked, they splashed around in the water, they took over a volleyball net, they talked more. No one thought about what. It might have been two hours before someone's stomach loudly growled, the first time anyone noticed that Kenzie was gone. Orders were taken, she was mentioned offhand, someone shrugged; Peace grabbed a towel and volunteered to get the refreshments.
The food and drink vendors lined a pseudo-boardwalk between the lakeshore and the arcades; the rest of the water park side was a ways off. She saw him before he saw her; he felt someone staring a hole in the back of his head, glanced over, and there she was, alone at a small table, neglecting a soda. He frowned; she glanced away. By the time he got up to the counter, she was gone.
Five orders later, she was back again, leaning against a brick wall, hands behind her back. Her ponytail had come undone a little and was scattered into the bangs around her face; the freckles on her cheeks stood out under the pale tan she'd gotten, or maybe that was just the light.
"Hey," he said eventually.
"Hey," she replied.
"Did you, uhm." He didn't know what to say. "Did you want a hot dog or something?"
She shook her head and stopped leaning. "I don't like the beach. It's too crowded."
"Oh."
(Her expression was strange. Sad? There was a look in her eyes- but then she said:) "There are better places. Want me to show you?"
"Uhm..." Peace's reverie popped, and he shifted the weight of the drink carrier around in his hands.
"It won't take long. And since you're so nice, maybe you can help me put on some more sunscreen?"
She was barely smiling when she walked off. He followed.
--
Shattered Rock. March 15th, 3 AM. A cold, clear night with a waning moon. Temperature: freezing.
Balls freezing.
It was mornings like this she questioned why she had been so intent to join the guard. The moon hung like a tilted cheshire smile in the air over the pines, lending just enough light for her not to trip over herself. Her patrol partner, of course, was doing fine, both with seeing in the dark and with not being too obvious about having to actively trying not to leave her behind. She didn't know him, but he was clearly a local boy; after five years she could usually tell from body language, much less the tattoos on his face and the way he'd introduced himself as Last Hearth without even a trace of irony or new-kid pride. That was good. Locals knew not to ask too many questions. Fuckin' worst thing about being on the guard, past freezing dawn patrols, live weapons training, and occasionally having someone to guard against, was people asking her what a commoner had done to get assigned.
"Nothing specific," she couldn't say. Or "actually, I'm mortal". "Let me tell your future" had ended really badly the one time she'd tried a real response.
And then there was Ice.
She froze in place, realizing her partner had already stopped. He was silent, staring out at the fenceline and the deep woods beyond. The air was silent as well, and had a certain sharp stiffness to it. Nothing happened, nothing moved; the only sound was the wind and the silent hum of lights from back towards the camp. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up.
Out in the distance, a dark shape- a big dark shape- was out of place. Something that hadn't been that way the last go-round, and as far into her head as she'd been, she hadn't immediately noticed.
The weight of her sword and rifle were heavy against her thick jacket, and for a moment, she forgot the cold entirely.
--
"You know Mom and Dad don't hate you, right?"
Kevin lay on his bed, staring at the poster of Einstein sticking his tongue out hanging on his closet as if it held some answer to how he was feeling at the moment. The phone was on speaker, sitting on the pillow next to his head.
"Yeah." He kept his voice neutral.
"Then why haven't you called in a month?"
He winced. It hadn't really been that long, he was sure, but he also knew Ali wouldn't have bothered worrying about it if his parents hadn't been going on and on about it.
"Midterms."
"For a month?"
"You ever try reading like five twenty-page articles on cardiotoxins and Chaucer at the same time?"
"Tch. All right, college boy. Are you coming home for spring break at least?"
"I don't know." Kevin half-smiled, but rubbed his temples. "I think I'm coming down with something."
"Seriously?"
"Yes." He growled under his breath and immediately thought better of his tone. "Sorry. I'll talk to them. Is it really so bad you had to send me twelve Facebook messages?"
Ali was quiet for a minute. "I just... wanted to talk. Maybe, ask you some things... about college, and that stuff."
Ah. It was about her... that was more normal. The sudden undertone of uncertainty in her voice, not so much. "I can try?"
"Yeah. I mean I'm just wondering, since I haven't known what I wanted to do since I was in diapers like you did, and I don't just want to go somewhere, take out a bunch of loans, not do anything..."
Her attempts at complimenting him were not making the hollow, nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach any better. He sighed and tried to think of what to say.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject