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writing_shadows2011-08-18 03:14 pm
akonken.livejournal.com) wrote in writing_shadows2011-08-18 03:14 pm
Entry tags:
(Apocalypse) Listen to the rhythm of the falling rain.
I was glad for the rain, for the cold, today. I’d downplayed my pain yesterday – my reason for being here was not renown – but it was still there. It would be there for a while yet.
I finished off my makeup (heavier than usual today, to hide the redness of the burn). My reflection stared at me, her expression unreadable. The fang marks from a long-ago fight peeked out from the edge of her collar. I adjusted mine and they disappeared from view again.
My reverie was interrupted by a young mother of two coming into the public bathroom to change her baby’s diaper. My reflection and I flashed her matching smiles and went away.
The mall was busy; lots of people were here to waste time and stay dry. I joined their throng, anonymously browsing idly through the latest fashions.
Teenage girls tittered past me. How long ago it was that I was one of them! Three years it’s been since I went shopping with my friends, bewailing the number of calories in a Frappuccino.
Three years since my first kill.
I thought of Kirsten leaning heavily on me after the battle, wounded and vulnerable. I thought of her ripping out the throat of the Spiral who’d utterly failed to shoot me.
I thought of Fists with Fury – clearly a woman with a great sense of humour – asking me to dye her green, of her laughter as we kidded around in her flat. I thought of her brawl with Shitkicker, and its interruption by the sinister noise deep in the heart of the caern.
I thought of Jake, green and stammering. I thought of him slicing through his foes like an expert; no hesitation, no uncertainty then.
I thought of Sammy, whining confusedly as she came out of her first frenzy. I thought of her careful and cunning trap deployment.
What a bunch we were.
We were lucky this time. We may have been untrained, but they were unsuspecting. This time we won.
I looked at the row of animal-themed umbrellas in front of me. I ran my finger along one of the ribs, using the motion to calm the rage that threatened to burble up.
Because I was angry. The "hive dive" was poorly managed. We were lucky this time.
We wouldn’t be lucky next time. Next time we’d need to be good.
I selected an umbrella, bright yellow and billed, its cheerful duck face folded away for the moment.
It was time to work with the rat.
I finished off my makeup (heavier than usual today, to hide the redness of the burn). My reflection stared at me, her expression unreadable. The fang marks from a long-ago fight peeked out from the edge of her collar. I adjusted mine and they disappeared from view again.
My reverie was interrupted by a young mother of two coming into the public bathroom to change her baby’s diaper. My reflection and I flashed her matching smiles and went away.
The mall was busy; lots of people were here to waste time and stay dry. I joined their throng, anonymously browsing idly through the latest fashions.
Teenage girls tittered past me. How long ago it was that I was one of them! Three years it’s been since I went shopping with my friends, bewailing the number of calories in a Frappuccino.
Three years since my first kill.
I thought of Kirsten leaning heavily on me after the battle, wounded and vulnerable. I thought of her ripping out the throat of the Spiral who’d utterly failed to shoot me.
I thought of Fists with Fury – clearly a woman with a great sense of humour – asking me to dye her green, of her laughter as we kidded around in her flat. I thought of her brawl with Shitkicker, and its interruption by the sinister noise deep in the heart of the caern.
I thought of Jake, green and stammering. I thought of him slicing through his foes like an expert; no hesitation, no uncertainty then.
I thought of Sammy, whining confusedly as she came out of her first frenzy. I thought of her careful and cunning trap deployment.
What a bunch we were.
We were lucky this time. We may have been untrained, but they were unsuspecting. This time we won.
I looked at the row of animal-themed umbrellas in front of me. I ran my finger along one of the ribs, using the motion to calm the rage that threatened to burble up.
Because I was angry. The "hive dive" was poorly managed. We were lucky this time.
We wouldn’t be lucky next time. Next time we’d need to be good.
I selected an umbrella, bright yellow and billed, its cheerful duck face folded away for the moment.
It was time to work with the rat.
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Very nice piece.