who| River and Simon Tam what| A sibling reuinion. where| LA. when| Afternoon rating| TBA; Probably in the PG area. status| Thread; in-progress
River had tried to wash the memories in her mind, and set them in the sun to dry. It hadn't been easy, when all she had was a bar of sandy green soap and a little bottle of drippy gel that they told her smelled like peaches, but really didn't. She had smelled real peaches, big as her hand, that her parents had brought home from a trip off-world.
Home. It was a foreign concept, now. Home didn't exist, and wouldn't--it wasn't old enough to. This world wasn't old enough yet. River stared up at the atmosphere, big and bright and blue, her arms flattening the grass as she moved them up, down, and back again. It was prickly in places, patches of it still recovering from a recent decapitation, and full of legs. Every so often a pair would pause nearby and stare at her from the ankles; sooty and pasty and all the shades in-between. It made her itch. Her spine was safe, though. She'd ripped out all the little pieces that seemed suspicious or sanguine. It was mostly dirt in the places that needed the most protection, and dirt she could abide. You could feel what was in dirt.
Ducks were quacking off in the distance, demanding peace offerings from the people invading their shores. Little footprints in imported sand. It would all be full of sand one day; sand and cement and strange little fossils of ducks that men with serious beards would baffle over on new planets in cramped bubbles at the bottom of an even more artificial waterscape.
River thought it was facetious. She turned over onto her belly, folding her arms ontop of the grass so it wouldn't poke her eyelids when she put her head back down.