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krislaughsTitle: Hall Monitor (Hank McCoy & Josh Radcliffe)
A/N: Before you ask, yes, “Comparing notes” is exactly what the kids are calling it these days. 150 words :-)
Argh
Ouch “Watch out for my— toes.”
“Here, I’ve got--”
“Me too— How can you see where you’re going in that hoodie?”
“How could you see where you’re going over all those journals?”
“Those were sorted, you know. Now…”
“Guess this thing is pretty—necessary, though. This one yours? Genetics and Retroviral DNA, haven’t read that yet…”
“Yeah. There’s some interesting ideas in there. You study genetics?”
“Aerodynamics, mechanical engineering, and bioethics. This is just a hobby, I guess. You?”
“Right. Just a hobby.”
“You go to MIT?”
“…Sort of. You?”
“Sort of.”
“Well… I guess that’s all of them.”
“Yeah.”
“Um. Hey. We should compare notes sometime.”
“I don’t think that would be a good—”
“Probably not but I… I can smell it, you know. Even under that massive hood. You’re different.”
“…You too. Maybe we should—”
“Josh.”
“Hank.”
“Er, Hi. Well, I should—Seeya.”
“Yeah. Seeya ‘round, Hank.”
~
Title: Feathers and Dust (Darwin & Death of the Endless)
A/N: So this isn’t really just a conversation, but dialogue is much more difficult to write when neither character is currently in possession of a pair of vocal chords. 270 words
For a long time—as much as time has any meaning here—there’s nothing but the sound of dust filtered through the eddies of wind off the wings of a flock of doves.
The dust collects like sand in the bottom of an hourglass, whirled into a pyramid that settles under an otherworldly sun.
The sun burns hot in its zenith, a supernova of white flame that blots out the blue of the sky and melts the sand into a pool of liquid glass. An iron ankh lies nearby. A single feather floats on a fading breeze.
The glass stretches and folds, shimmering under the last dregs of sunset. Moon rises, ushering in the time of dreams.
“They used to call him a Sandman,” speaks a pale woman, sitting cross-legged on the ground. The ankh lies heavily on her breast. “My brother, that is.” She dips a finger into the shimmering pool and draws a long filament of the crystalline substance as it cools. She repeats the movement ten times.
Ten fingers formed of filaments of glass.
A face follows, broad shoulders, and legs made to run the desert dunes. Overhead the sky spins, more familiar stars whirl across its black velvet cape. She presses her lips to the sculptural pair and exhales a breath that tastes of the flowing waters of Dis and the dry dust of time.
Darwin coughs.
“What—” he stutters, “Who are you?”
"Seeya later, aligator," is all she says, smiling and walking away, disappearing over a ridge of red-orange sand. The sun is rising, and the only sound he hears is the distant flutter of pale, grey wings.
~
Original prompt post
A/N: Before you ask, yes, “Comparing notes” is exactly what the kids are calling it these days. 150 words :-)
Argh
Ouch “Watch out for my— toes.”
“Here, I’ve got--”
“Me too— How can you see where you’re going in that hoodie?”
“How could you see where you’re going over all those journals?”
“Those were sorted, you know. Now…”
“Guess this thing is pretty—necessary, though. This one yours? Genetics and Retroviral DNA, haven’t read that yet…”
“Yeah. There’s some interesting ideas in there. You study genetics?”
“Aerodynamics, mechanical engineering, and bioethics. This is just a hobby, I guess. You?”
“Right. Just a hobby.”
“You go to MIT?”
“…Sort of. You?”
“Sort of.”
“Well… I guess that’s all of them.”
“Yeah.”
“Um. Hey. We should compare notes sometime.”
“I don’t think that would be a good—”
“Probably not but I… I can smell it, you know. Even under that massive hood. You’re different.”
“…You too. Maybe we should—”
“Josh.”
“Hank.”
“Er, Hi. Well, I should—Seeya.”
“Yeah. Seeya ‘round, Hank.”
~
Title: Feathers and Dust (Darwin & Death of the Endless)
A/N: So this isn’t really just a conversation, but dialogue is much more difficult to write when neither character is currently in possession of a pair of vocal chords. 270 words
For a long time—as much as time has any meaning here—there’s nothing but the sound of dust filtered through the eddies of wind off the wings of a flock of doves.
The dust collects like sand in the bottom of an hourglass, whirled into a pyramid that settles under an otherworldly sun.
The sun burns hot in its zenith, a supernova of white flame that blots out the blue of the sky and melts the sand into a pool of liquid glass. An iron ankh lies nearby. A single feather floats on a fading breeze.
The glass stretches and folds, shimmering under the last dregs of sunset. Moon rises, ushering in the time of dreams.
“They used to call him a Sandman,” speaks a pale woman, sitting cross-legged on the ground. The ankh lies heavily on her breast. “My brother, that is.” She dips a finger into the shimmering pool and draws a long filament of the crystalline substance as it cools. She repeats the movement ten times.
Ten fingers formed of filaments of glass.
A face follows, broad shoulders, and legs made to run the desert dunes. Overhead the sky spins, more familiar stars whirl across its black velvet cape. She presses her lips to the sculptural pair and exhales a breath that tastes of the flowing waters of Dis and the dry dust of time.
Darwin coughs.
“What—” he stutters, “Who are you?”
"Seeya later, aligator," is all she says, smiling and walking away, disappearing over a ridge of red-orange sand. The sun is rising, and the only sound he hears is the distant flutter of pale, grey wings.
~
Original prompt post
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2011-08-04 03:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-04 10:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-04 03:01 pm (UTC)