Dante Ross [Jareth] (goblinfruit) wrote in musingslogs, @ 2010-12-13 21:06:00 |
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Entry tags: | jareth |
Who: Dante
What: Discovering his ability - Narrative
When: Last weekend.
Where: Hamartia 506
Warnings: None!
Since the night Sam had first spoken to him, and asked him about his ability, Dante had been trying to figure out what it might be. He'd poked and prodded at everything he did, trying to decide if anything about it was slightly out of the ordinary, something that might have been that special little talent that he knew he'd develop. It had been what seemed like an eternity, and he hadn't come any closer to determining what it might be.
When the discovery came, it was by accident.
He'd ripped one of his gloves during a job. They were his favorite gloves, thin enough that it was almost like not wearing them at all, as far as being able to feel and judge how much pressure needed to be exerted went. They also happened to be extraodinarily comfortable, buttery soft against his skin. He'd gotten them back in Musings, and he wasn't certain if he would ever be able to find a replacement in Humanity. It might have been a little silly to mourn them, but he did.
It happened while he was running his fingers over the rip, wishing there was a way to repair it. He could picture the glove in his head, whole again, and perhaps even a bit nicer than it actually was - things always seemed better when they were gone.
When he pulled his hand away, there it was before him: whole, and significantly better in ways that he couldn't quite explain. His first reaction was a rush of excitement (not childish, of course, not at all like a little boy with a fancy new toy), and his second reaction was to test it out. The glove didn't change when he tried it a second time, imagining the color different and the snap gold instead of silver. He'd almost have thought that perhaps the rip hadn't been there at all, except he knew it had been, and he could still feel it when he pressed his fingers hard enough against the leather.
He had almost given up when inspiration struck, sudden and strong, and he grabbed the other glove. It was strangely harder, when he was trying, but soon that glove was a deep burgundy, with a brass snap, and that same indefinable quality of better. The next ten minutes were spent staring at the glove, putting it down, and then picking it up to stare at it again, still unable to believe that he'd actually done it.
After that, of course, came a mad dash around the apartment, transforming whatever he could get his hands onto. All of his clothing got an upgrade, and all his furniture, and the walls went from plain white to deep blue. The carpet became deeper and softer, and the linoleum in his kitchen turned to marble (though he could still faintly feel the difference in both beneath his feet, if he tried).
Then, of course, he collapsed on his newly improved bed and slept.
It was a little over thirteen hours since his first improvements when he woke up to see things fading back to their normal, drab states. He tried to put them back the way they were, of course - who would want to go back to a lumpy futon after sleeping on a mattress stuffed with feathers? Nothing happened, and at first he panicked - what if he'd broken his ability with overuse? It could have been so useful, and... but sense won out, in the end, and he managed to find a sock that had escaped the first round of experiments. One transformation from worn white cotton to thick dove gray angora later, he was smiling again.
There were so many uses for an ability like his. He'd hoped for something cool, he had to admit, like invisibility or being able to read minds, but when it came down to it, what he had was even better. In fact, he knew exactly what he was going to do with it first.