Post by Mina Crow on Aug 25, 2006 2:50:11 GMT 12
Hmm, both Dancer and Commando are mine ^^ Didn't exactly turn out as I was expecting, but eh. Weird text.
Neither rhyme nor reason
Anne stormed out of the hall, so distraught she didn’t notice another presence until she crashed against the blonde girl going the other direction. Muttering an apology, she sped away from the other Cigarette without looking at her face. She just wanted to be away, to be as far from them as possible.
Unconsciously avoiding people, Anne soon found herself on silent hallways, a Cigarette passing by only now and then. Even so, she diverted her eyes, kept her left cheek hidden in the shadows. It was to much; stifling presences. Too many eyes.
Arrival at the roof of Castle Smoke came almost as a surprise; she should have expected it, but somehow didn’t. Walking past Reason’s straw targets, Anne folded herself on a corner of the terrace, resting her head on her knees. Her ribs cracked in pain, but the girl ignored them as she ignored her throbbing limbs and head. It simply wasn’t worth it.
How the plunge seemed inviting…
No, not that. She still prided herself on overcoming difficulties. Just walk across the wire, leap that distance between two buildings. And don’t look down.
Still, the plunge…
Stop it, Anne. Won’t bring anything back, will that? And it’s better here, now – or so it should.
“Dancer?” The voice came from the door to the floors below. Anne flinched instinctively.
“Here.”
The sound of footsteps, then a shadow crossed the gap between the straw figures and a teenager followed it. Anne recognized him as one of the Cigarettes involved on that suicidal rescue just a few days ago. Commando, if she wasn’t mistaken. The boy didn’t say a word; sitting about four feet away, he just looked at his hands, dangling from his knees. Waiting for her.
Anne sighed deeply, cringing as the gesture caused her ribs to crack once more.
Silence; he waited.
Another sigh, a look at the bleached horizon. Biting her lip.
“I don’t know,” she finally said. Don’t know why I’m here, don’t know what I’m trying to prove, don’t know what I was expecting… Compassion? More fool I.
Silence; he wouldn’t disrupt it.
“What am I doing?” she murmured, more a sigh than anything else.
“What am I supposed to do, Commando?” She wasn’t looking at him. Rather, at her hands, noting the different shades of purple on her swollen left hand.
“You’re not doing anything wrong,” was the quiet answer. Simple enough, but it wouldn’t convince her. Not after all those sidelong looks, all those eyes delving into the back of her head, all those conversations muted as she walked by.
“Why can’t I believe it?”
“Dancer –”
“Anne,” she corrected automatically.
Well then, Anne.
“Anne,” John repeated, “you’re not doing anything wrong. But you should try and understand them… Vampires. We have good reason not to like them.” His voice was blank, though not uncaring; he knew the result the words might provoke, but he also knew they had to be told. The girl needed to see both sides of the question.
“If I’m a Vampire, what am I doing here?” Guess I should go back then. The plunge…
“You’re not. Look, Anne – Seraphim took you in, right? You’re part of us now. The past’s gone.” He had pretty enough experience on that field. “Give them time, it’s all they need.”
Who could blame the Cigarettes? They had good cause, starting on Serenity, ending on Seraphim. Going through all those lost friends in between. And Dancer – Anne – had played miniature Mina last time, when she had been a prisoner of his tribe. What was she expecting, in truth?
Salvation…?
“It’s not only that, and you know it,” he said as quietly as ever.
Anne twitched, but she didn’t move. “Yes. I know it.”
Neither rhyme nor reason
Anne stormed out of the hall, so distraught she didn’t notice another presence until she crashed against the blonde girl going the other direction. Muttering an apology, she sped away from the other Cigarette without looking at her face. She just wanted to be away, to be as far from them as possible.
Unconsciously avoiding people, Anne soon found herself on silent hallways, a Cigarette passing by only now and then. Even so, she diverted her eyes, kept her left cheek hidden in the shadows. It was to much; stifling presences. Too many eyes.
Arrival at the roof of Castle Smoke came almost as a surprise; she should have expected it, but somehow didn’t. Walking past Reason’s straw targets, Anne folded herself on a corner of the terrace, resting her head on her knees. Her ribs cracked in pain, but the girl ignored them as she ignored her throbbing limbs and head. It simply wasn’t worth it.
How the plunge seemed inviting…
No, not that. She still prided herself on overcoming difficulties. Just walk across the wire, leap that distance between two buildings. And don’t look down.
Still, the plunge…
Stop it, Anne. Won’t bring anything back, will that? And it’s better here, now – or so it should.
“Dancer?” The voice came from the door to the floors below. Anne flinched instinctively.
“Here.”
The sound of footsteps, then a shadow crossed the gap between the straw figures and a teenager followed it. Anne recognized him as one of the Cigarettes involved on that suicidal rescue just a few days ago. Commando, if she wasn’t mistaken. The boy didn’t say a word; sitting about four feet away, he just looked at his hands, dangling from his knees. Waiting for her.
Anne sighed deeply, cringing as the gesture caused her ribs to crack once more.
Silence; he waited.
Another sigh, a look at the bleached horizon. Biting her lip.
“I don’t know,” she finally said. Don’t know why I’m here, don’t know what I’m trying to prove, don’t know what I was expecting… Compassion? More fool I.
Silence; he wouldn’t disrupt it.
“What am I doing?” she murmured, more a sigh than anything else.
“What am I supposed to do, Commando?” She wasn’t looking at him. Rather, at her hands, noting the different shades of purple on her swollen left hand.
“You’re not doing anything wrong,” was the quiet answer. Simple enough, but it wouldn’t convince her. Not after all those sidelong looks, all those eyes delving into the back of her head, all those conversations muted as she walked by.
“Why can’t I believe it?”
“Dancer –”
“Anne,” she corrected automatically.
Well then, Anne.
“Anne,” John repeated, “you’re not doing anything wrong. But you should try and understand them… Vampires. We have good reason not to like them.” His voice was blank, though not uncaring; he knew the result the words might provoke, but he also knew they had to be told. The girl needed to see both sides of the question.
“If I’m a Vampire, what am I doing here?” Guess I should go back then. The plunge…
“You’re not. Look, Anne – Seraphim took you in, right? You’re part of us now. The past’s gone.” He had pretty enough experience on that field. “Give them time, it’s all they need.”
Who could blame the Cigarettes? They had good cause, starting on Serenity, ending on Seraphim. Going through all those lost friends in between. And Dancer – Anne – had played miniature Mina last time, when she had been a prisoner of his tribe. What was she expecting, in truth?
Salvation…?
“It’s not only that, and you know it,” he said as quietly as ever.
Anne twitched, but she didn’t move. “Yes. I know it.”
