hawkeyowa: (Mmm what'cha say.)
[personal profile] hawkeyowa
Yes, seven drabbles. Yes, they probably suck. But lord have mercy, I just wanted to get things up before they drove me crazy. ;; /deposits
S-so feedback is appreciated, positive or negative or whatever. If I feel up to it (and stop procrastinating, hurhurhur like that'll happen), then I'll post more eventually. :|b

EDIT: Icon switcheroo because that last one did not fit the mood of GRUMPY. /pouts, neenerneener

Music Box - Milton (Milwaukee)

'This hollow in my chest is filled with reasons not to sing,
but I found one.'

Milton felt as if his mouth had been filled with dust all this time, sealed up and sewn shut haphazardly with only room enough to breathe and enough movement allowed to whisper. His fingers went by his throat, gingerly touching the ridges of his windpipe beneath the skin. He touched his mouth, unsure in his actions as he traced the lines of his own lips. They were there, and they weren't bound by thick string as his mind's eye made it appear. There was no dust on his tongue, or rust in his teeth from disuse. There was no barrier between his vocal cords and the room around him. He could sing, and there was nothing that could or would stop him.


What Ferrets Are Good For - Jack (Iowa)

'I'll always trust in your hand,
to support me, to protect me, to love me.'

A long yawn escaped Jack and he reached up, scratching his head tiredly while flipping a page of his book with his other hand. He shifted just enough to get a comfortable position on the small pile of pillows on his bed, leaning back to get a better angle of light on the text. One of the things he had liked about HQ was his sudden plethora of free time, mostly consisting of catching up on reading or doing something remotely artistic and creative just for the sake of doing it. It was possibly one of the first times in his long life where he didn't have to work every single day. However guilty he may have felt for leaving his people at such a time, he couldn't help but wallow in the relaxation he was finally getting.

There was a soft scratching noise at the side of the bed had Jack peered over to see two little white paws latched onto the edge. Before long, a small, fluffy white head appeared with two beady dark red eyes blinking at him questioningly. There was a short but quick flurry of scratches before the little ferret managed to heave herself onto the bed and crawl over to her master. He let out a soft laugh and closed his book, picking her up and cradling her against his chest. She huffed in approval and tilted her head back, as though showing him all the points on her jaw and neck that she expected to be scratched.

"Way to be a brat, Maddie," he laughed, rubbing a spot just under her ear which caused her to give a little yawn. She didn't seem to particularly care about the 'brat' comment, opting instead to stretching out and closing her eyes sleepily. He grinned and slid under his sheets, keeping her close to his chest again. He kept petting her until he started feeling the same sleepiness she was exhibiting.

By morning, Maddie had taken up a spot in the crook of Jack's arm, snuggling against him while he was curled almost protectively around her.


The Wailing Wall - Miryam (Jerusalem)

'That city, she sits solitary,
and in her midst, a wall.'

The door was unmarked, made of some type of stiff wood with no shine at all. The handle was crude, rough iron, bent just enough to be considered a handle. Flecks of rust marked Miryam's hand as she turned the handle, pressing her weight against the door to force it open. Of course, she had been warned against entering any strange rooms. Yet something had drawn her to that door, like an unseen magnet pulling at her. As soon as she could smell olive groves and salt water, she knew where she had arrived.

At the very sight of the sand-colored wall, tears sprang to her eyes. The moss dangling from the cracks brought home the familiarity and as she neared, she saw the familiar flora growing around caulk-like letters stuffed into the narrows between the large bricks. They were prayers waiting to be answered. However, there was no one at the wall, in contrast to the normally gratuitous crowds of teary-eyed individuals, staring up at its intimidating height with hope and faith written all over their expressions. The city around the wall was noiseless. The cries of the faithful were silent. The Wailing Wall and Miryam were alone.

Very slowly, with a deep reverence for the sacred place, Miryam approached, one hand outstretched. Her fingers made contact with the rough surface, where thousands of years of prayer had made themselves apparent on the worn-down stone. She let out a soft sniff and pressed her forehead against the stone, closing her eyes and letting her tears fall to the ground. She didn't know why she was crying. Perhaps she was homesick and touching something so familiar deepened the need to return. Or perhaps she was crying for the exact reason the wall had been given such a name.


How to Feel - Nikita (Prypiat) x Xue (Tianjin)

'I don't believe in miracles,
I never did.
Nothing ever happens here,
so sick of it.'

Nikita stared at her hands for a long while, as though contemplating the very existence of them. It wasn't from any strange thought process, although she certainly didn't have normalcy stapled to her person. No, it was for the sake of the thought process that came with touching what was slowly becoming the bane of her existence. In one of the few times she had touched the flesh of another, Nikita was stunned to see that Xue, the strange man who had come into her closed-off world, did not falter or become instantly sickened. He didn't shrink away from her like a wounded animal. He didn't insult her or degrade her for her strange attribute of radioactivity. No, he had cared, which was something she certainly wasn't accustomed to.

She slowly flexed her fingers, watching the joints of her knuckles move beneath the pale flesh. The blue and violet veins, more visible than they should have been, stretched, then shrank back to normal size. There was no hint to the poison within her with that movement. There was no sign to Xue or anyone that she was capable of nearly killing them, if they were even able to be killed in the first place. Yet he seemed to somehow be aware of this fault--this curse, as she had been told it was--and completely disregarded it as easily as if she just had a simple blemish on her skin. What mostly caught her off guard is that he kept coming back. Hearing his voice call her name was such a welcomed experience, as it meant that he would touch her, perhaps hold her, like he had today.


Vivisection - Griffin (Lower Michigan) x Jake (Ohio) [Mafia-related]

'It's hard to stay between the lines of skin,
just 'cause I have nerves doesn't mean that I can feel.'

The world around Griffin was blurry and vertigo-tainted as he managed to open his eyes and look around. There wasn't much beyond the looming darkness, save for a collection of three white wax candles, all melted together to form a burning clump of wax. For a long moment, he watched a lone translucent drop of it streak down the side of a half-melted column until it came to a stop and seemed to freeze on the side of the candle. Slowly, a dull thumping began to resound in Griffin's head and he managed to let out a quiet groan of irritation, which was met with a low laugh from somewhere in the darkness.

"Good to see you're awake."

Blue-green eyes widened and darted around, attempting to find the source of the voice. He knew the source, and if he remembered correctly, it was the same voice that he had last heard laughing before darkness blossomed in his vision and he was unconscious, to which he was taken...wherever here was.

"Jake," he responded, his voice coming out oddly hoarse, most unlike how he remembered. He kept his blurring focus trained on a shape that shifted even in the darkness. Flickering candlelight briefly glimmered off a silvery surface concealed in the sable shades of the night. A cold feeling creeped through him, starting with his stomach and ending at his fingertips and toes. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he bit his bottom lip, trying desperately to fight off the overwhelming sense of foreboding.

There was a soft padding of footsteps before Griffin could see a pair of jean-clad legs standing not even five feet from him. He looked up, the vision blurry as it had been beforehand, but clear enough to show the face he knew was behind the voice. Jake sneered down at him, holding the end of a Bowie knife in between his thumb and forefinger. "Y'know, Griff, I always have looked down on you." Before Griffin could respond, he heard a quick 'thunk' and felt some sort of strange (but utterly painless) tremor go through his chest. Jake bent down and grinned at him, his hand edging towards where the dark-haired man had felt the tremor. There was a shrill ripping noise and Griffin turned his head to see the knife sticking out of his chest, slowly being dragged downward. He didn't know what to think as blood began pouring out of the gap in his skin. He looked to Jake as though he would have all the answers, but he was only met with a sickening grin. "This is going to be fun."


Cold War Transmissions - Dimitri (Moscow)

'This is Russian radio,
calling you to come back home.'

Dimitri knew the rules of his "mother". The Americans were the enemies. They were the lesser life forms. If the word was given, the motherland was to wipe their sneering faces off the map. It was like a dance between the countries, with three-inch stiletto blades held to the backs of the individual dancers. One wrong move, one error in the tempo even was enough to bring on bloodshed.

Two of the "blades" were given to Dimitri and a young girl across the icy northern strait. He knew her well enough from years before that grinning, blond bastard took her away. She was often by mother's side, wide-eyed and trembling in the snowy landscape she lived in. He had learned very little about her, except that she was a bit different from his other brothers and sisters. The gap between them went beyond the literal watery one of the strait. Now it had come to the very peak of difference. The two of them had been told that the opposing one was the enemy, though they would not strike unless given word. This wasn't to say they couldn't talk, although the girl across the strait seemed to think that it was included.

He knew she had a transistor radio near her at all times, as it was regulation for both countries to equip their children with them just in case. He often played with his, picking up the headphones and murmuring gibberish into the microphone just to get a reaction. After awhile, he managed to find out her channel number. The calls almost never ceased once that was discovered. Dimitri toyed with the fragile boundary between them, teasing his way around what could have easily set off a war to end all wars. 'I can't wait to see you fail', for instance, was a nicer way of saying, 'You will fail', the latter being one of those key phrases that Aly would have to report to Alfred.

One night, he played with his boundaries again. It had been a particularly bleak night, right in what seemed to be the middle of the conflict. There had been an unsettling feeling that everything that was going on was just the calm before the storm. Dimitri thought it was no better time than to call his "friend". He picked up his microphone and tuned into her channel.

"Little girl!" he sing-songed. "I know you're there! You can pick up now."

He was met by silence initially, backed up by the soft hissing from the speakers. Then there was a quiet 'click' of her microphone and a very frustrated, "What do you want now?"

The blond smirked and leaned back in his chair. "You know, you used to be one like me."

"...Yeah, so?"

"You should really think about coming back, da? Mother would love to have you home." The response was a swift click of her microphone turning off. Dimitri laughed lightly and placed his microphone back on the table. The boundaries had been tested once again. If he had only said it more clearly, it would have been, 'You are going to come home.'


Stargazing - Matt (Colorado) x Cody (Wyoming)

'Tonight I'll dream while I'm in bed,
when silly thoughts go through my head,
about the bugs and alphabet,
and when I wake tomorrow I'll bet
that you and I will walk together again.'

A warm summer breeze made its way through the grassy valley, moving tall reeds that were illuminated white by the hidden face of the crescent moon. Diamond-like stars twinkled in the black-blue velvet of the night sky. Matt lay among some of the shorter reeds, one of them sticking out of his mouth as he moved it from side to side with his teeth. Beside him lay Cody, one arm tucked behind her head and the other resting across her stomach. She let out a content sigh and glanced over to Matt. "Y'ever try counting them all?"

"Yeah, I usually get to about sixty or so before I give up."

"Oh," she replied. "How about constellations? Ya know any of them?"

"Mhmm," he hummed, raising one hand and pointing up to a curved line of stars. "That's the Corona Borealis, and if ya move your hand to the left a little? Hercules is right next to it."

Cody squinted and looked around where he was pointing. "Sorta. But how can ya think that's a crown? Or that a guy is right next to it? I mean, I can understand the Big Dipper, but I don't see how it's a bear, too."

"If you look hard enough, you can see its legs."

"No, I get that. But I always learned that Cygnus? The one that's supposed to be a swan to everyone else? That is a bear."

"Huh, really?" Matt tilted his head as he looked at Cygnus. From one angle, it did look like a swan, but he could also see how it could have been a bear. "Oh yeah, now I see it."

They gazed up at the sky in silence for a long while before Cody spoke, "You wanna do this tomorrow?"

Matt looked over at her and grinned. "Sure thing, Cody-Code."

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Jack Ellis

February 2011

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