Violet Sparks | Daisy Johnson (thescarecrow) wrote in dunhavenic, @ 2017-09-29 22:45:00 |
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Entry tags: | r * chel, r: violet sparks |
WHO: Mary Sue Poots / Violet
WHEN: After the Saturday morning Farmer's Market
WHERE: The flower farm where she works
SUMMARY: Another glimpse at SHIELD headquarters and at least one of the people in it.
WARNINGS: N/A
"Shopping with Quincy. What the hell ..." But the cabin had extra touches that were her touches - her aesthetic in Quincy Sparks' very rustic one - space. And she supposed it wasn't that necessarily odd that she feel this all encompassing comfort about it either. Teasing him about it had really been just another way that she, who found being earnest or genuine near impossible when her own feelings were sweetly inexplicable, coped with being invited into this man's space with nothing expected from her but a strong arm, some conversation, an opinion. All of these thoughts traveled with her, from the Farmer's Market back to the field, where the baskets and the cash from the day's haul would be dropped off. All around her sunflowers swayed gently with the wind and dahlias half as big as her palm, crowded round to drink in the last few days of warmth before Autumn arrived in full. Daniel's friend wouldn't be home for another 10 minutes. And without Mr. Smith, she had no one to recognize that she'd done her duty as requested. So she sat down in one of the rows of dahlias, letting the peach blossoms sway gently in the wind. Maybe she'd take a few home with her. Quincy might like something on his window sill when he arrived to work. It was warm. The bees flew lazily, drunk with pollen, and she found herself growing lazy too. Her eyes began to drift and she figured she could lay back and hear Daniel's friends' tires when he came home. Quick catnap. As the sunflowers and dahlias gently brushed the sky, she felt herself give way to a light sleep. The room was small but well-furnished; a comfortable bed, a chair, a desk. Exposed brick lined the wall giving way to any belief that this was a house. She was leaving something on the bed, and turning to leave before a door caught. And as she looked to the other side, a small emblem (an eagle), and a tall blonde man at a desk. The conversation between them grew muddled. Contorted with moments from her own consciousness -- the scent of sunflowers, a butterfly lit upon one hand, the crunch of gravel upon tire -- but from it she took two things. The dream was about a place called Afterlife, a place she and the man had met. And they had special abilities. Abilities? Some other part of her tried to scoff, fighting the dream. Things that required them to control themselves or to give into peace and let it become one with who they were. She watched the man, tall and blonde, and knew in that instant she loved him. Even before she encouraged him to lose the control he so desperately clung to, before she kissed him. She loved this man. She awoke with a start, smiling to see a pair of faded out boots and the old man looking down on her with a rueful grin. She shrugged, smiling crookedly. "Heya, Ed. Oops!" |