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Drift Fleet // Canon
Mar. 14th, 2016 02:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
birdsbirdsbirds{ continued from this thread. }
[he follows Steve willingly, padding along barefoot behind him. once he's been gestured into the room, he takes up a place not far from the door (mostly to be out of the way, since their rooms are small). his eyes start to wander along the murals as he stands there, clutching his cup to his chest.
he doesn't feel good, but he feels better. he is weak and exhausted, but the crows have stopped pecking at his eyes.]
Right now...? [he laughs again, even if it's not much more than a breathy sound at the back of his throat. he looks over the paints, trying to imagine...] Jeez...
[part of him thinks he couldn't possibly imagine enough "something good" to cover four walls and a ceiling, but another part of him speaks up first.] Birds would be nice. For the ceiling.
[he follows Steve willingly, padding along barefoot behind him. once he's been gestured into the room, he takes up a place not far from the door (mostly to be out of the way, since their rooms are small). his eyes start to wander along the murals as he stands there, clutching his cup to his chest.
he doesn't feel good, but he feels better. he is weak and exhausted, but the crows have stopped pecking at his eyes.]
Right now...? [he laughs again, even if it's not much more than a breathy sound at the back of his throat. he looks over the paints, trying to imagine...] Jeez...
[part of him thinks he couldn't possibly imagine enough "something good" to cover four walls and a ceiling, but another part of him speaks up first.] Birds would be nice. For the ceiling.
Drift Fleet // Canon
Feb. 14th, 2016 08:38 pmbirdsbirdsbirds[
the first thing he sees is the metal ceiling. the bolts, the seams. the sound of the engine churning somewhere beneath them sounds like the crooning of the dead from wherever they were buried, and he thinks he's back for just long enough to struggle upright in a half-blind, rising panic.
his heart is pounding so hard he has to blink past it, realize he's seeing his locker and the shelf above it. he picks out the shapes of that stupid bird sculpture, and the stuffed dog, and a couple of other silly things he's collected during his time on the Bloodsport.
on the Bloodsport, not in the Dragons' Underground. he clutches his chest, shivering with relief.
it's fine. it was just a dream. he's not going back. it's fine...]
robin, oh robin...
won't you... come home...
the snow is so cold...
and we're chilled to... the bone...
the trees have all died,
the children, they cry...
oh where has... our dear robin... gone.
the first thing he sees is the metal ceiling. the bolts, the seams. the sound of the engine churning somewhere beneath them sounds like the crooning of the dead from wherever they were buried, and he thinks he's back for just long enough to struggle upright in a half-blind, rising panic.
his heart is pounding so hard he has to blink past it, realize he's seeing his locker and the shelf above it. he picks out the shapes of that stupid bird sculpture, and the stuffed dog, and a couple of other silly things he's collected during his time on the Bloodsport.
on the Bloodsport, not in the Dragons' Underground. he clutches his chest, shivering with relief.
it's fine. it was just a dream. he's not going back. it's fine...]
Wonderlander // Nonsense
Nov. 18th, 2015 10:10 amlobsterquadrille"Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?"
"That depends a good deal on where you want to get to."
"I don't much care where--"
"Then it doesn't matter which way you go."
A) It's a perfectly normal day in a perfectly normal world. Everything is as it should be. There is no flying butter, but butterflies are fluttering through a park garden, and women with human children stop to look in the window of a charming antique shop, and there is probably actually nothing strange about the skinny boy who's wearing a large, knitted scarf and no jacket in seventy-five-degree weather. Nothing odd or curious about the cracks in the sidewalk or the shapes of the clouds or any ownerless cats who happen be wandering about. Just another normal, sensible, boring day.
B) It's a perfectly normal day in Wonderland, which is to say that absolutely nothing is particularly normal, logical, or under any obligation to be nice. A blond, oddly plain-looking boy is wandering about, looking a little concerned. He's down the Rabbit Hole, trying to fit various keys into various doors, or he's hopelessly lost in the always-menacing (but well-meaning!) Tulgey Wood, or he's trying very hard not to step on any hedgehogs or gophers or flamingos as he picks his way through the Red Queen's beautiful garden. Wonderland doesn't really care where you are, as long as you aren't late.
C) Every once in a while, the worlds of Mundaneland and Wonderland overlap in ways that they maybe shouldn't. The white-walled, child-safe, health-conscious halls of the hospital are hiding all kinds of things, especially with how the inpatients mumble, scribble, and stare at normals who come to visit. Not all of them are completely mad; some of them are actually quite thankful to be here. The boy who looks like he's never slept, for example, staring intently down at the tile floor between his feet. He also reads very large books, far away from everyone else in the recreation room. And once or twice he's escorted out of the fancy doctor's office because he's gone and thrown something, and was yelling about how he's not a fucking liar.
D) “Begin at the beginning," the King said, very gravely, "and go on till you come to the end: then stop.”