braymitch thornathy. (grever) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-07-30 22:28:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !narrative, bram thornton |
& watched the smoke that rises from the pipes of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows
Who: Bram & Vera Thornton
What: Decisions.
Where: Their home in the commoners district
When: Tonight
Rating: Tame
Status: Mini-narrative, complete
“Bram. You need to stop.” She pauses by his shoulder, her light fingers combing back his hair (which thinning, and more white than grey now: is this what it’s come to?). He breathes, exhales. This hollow city with its ghosts. Jonah still dogging the halls of this house, his room a tomb. Elvira gone—somewhere, she didn’t say where. And Zacheus— Still a raw and open wound he can’t stand looking at for long, a knife scraping across his ribs. He can still remember the look on her face when he suggested the holiday: that smallest flicker of incredulity and scorn, writ clear as day to his eyes. (But this is a different matter.) “Have you looked at the paperwork?” he asks. “What do you think?” She weighs her words heavily before speaking, as she always does, giving the matter due consideration. “I think—” The lights flicker low. |