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[May. 1st, 2014|02:04 pm] |
genre: modern, high school
preferences: het
warnings: tba
School had finished an hour go but Katherine had no intention of going home, her head has been in a mess and it hadn’t been helpful when she was on the ice with her team, she had been too distracted and missed a clear shot. Her brother was the first one to express his disappointment, but he, out of all people knew her mind had been elsewhere. There was no training that particular afternoon when Katherine found herself back at the school’s ice rink, it was practically empty as Katherine watched the stragglers leave, she could hear cleaners were around but they would have known her by now, if it wasn’t her at the rink it would be her brother or other members of the team, most of them would go there when they didn’t have too if they needed to clear their minds. Katherine wished her mind would stop racing and thinking about him. Everybody warned her. Even though he was a fellow team mate, he was a player on and off the ice, he was a ladies man come lunch time and she used to watch him with a different girl each lunch time. She didn’t even think she would like him that way. Apparently she did. Apparently he liked her too and their… not even a friendship grew into a relationship during a weekend getaway to Chicago. She stupidly enough wanted to go and find her birth father and he got a whim of her plan, catching her off guard at the train station and said he was going with her. She hadn’t been to Chicago before and he was from there, pretty logical don’t you think? The thing was, they hadn’t really held a conversation before, he would have been as her opposite, rude and a pig they were snarky towards each other and other days they would simple ignore one another. Then that all seemed to change in Chicago. She found her biological father and wanted to see him, he warned her not to get her hopes up because he had been in the same situation a few years ago but her mother was getting remarried and she wanted to know her father again, how hard could it be for a father/daughter reunion?
She asked him to go with her when she had located her father, at first her father didn’t recognise her then it dawned on her. It wasn’t the reunion she wanted to be. He was happy to have his daughter back in his life, but she could not stay with him. Katherine later found out he had his own family, two daughters and a wife, so he didn’t want to mix his past and present together? Katherine wasn’t happy she probably would have lost it if it weren’t for her team mate it was getting late that they decided to crash at a hotel and that’s when the confessions happened: he thought she was with his best friend and he kept his distance from her. Katherine reassured him they were only friends and she wasn’t attached to anyone. They kissed and you could imagine what happened next.
They would have dated for about a year and half when drama happened, they lost someone close and he left without a word, Katherine couldn’t understand why he would just up and leave without saying anything to her or anyone as matter of fact, he just went awol. It was getting close to a month without hearing from him and Katherine didn’t know what to do, she was on the ice now in the rink and had been skating several laps, almost out of breath, she skated towards the middle where black pucks had been lined up and whacked them as hard as she could some into the net, most missed, Katherine didn’t care, she was letting out her frustration. She just wanted him back. |
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[May. 1st, 2014|07:06 pm] |
GENRE: Sci-fi/post-apocalyptic, nuclear event.
PREFERENCES: Slash/gen.
WARNINGS: TBA.
After they'd lost the war, after they'd all lost the war, he'd limped back to his family's Colorado homestead with one eye blown from the neural surge and the other the electric blue of a thousand different codec screens, pride all wound up in what-ifs. His parents had met him at the door, their faces contorted with the kind of surprise that, looking back, Colt attributed more to the mountainous mech still cooling in the distance than he did his own prodigal return. Not that he'd blamed them. They'd never seen a striker in person. Most who did didn't survive long enough to let it sink in - the sheer size. The power. Besides, there were plenty of ghosts walking around, by that time. Adding one more to their number must've been par for the course for them, despite him being their son.
The news called them drifters. Pilots cut free of their program by the nuclear detonations, they had been spared poisoning by the impenetrable skins of their mobile suits, and left to roam. Some managed to find their way home, like Colt and his Hermes, but most ended up wandering the gutted cities they'd sworn to protect, forever shackled to their shame by the immortal vessels that had enacted it.
He'd followed their stories on the radio for awhile, until they lost their anecdotal appeal and were replaced by the more desperate, discerning reports dedicated to government aid, shelter, food. Colt had found little interest in those. Heat from a dead star, he'd told his mother. By then, she'd taken to staring out the window. Hermes still stood a hazy mile from their home, its posture erect and unbowed even in the most inclement of weather, only the mountainous ridge beyond to lord it over.
The only strange thing about it was the birds. The weather had always seemed unnaturally contained in their small valley, enough so that the systems of the outer world hardly seemed to breach the high walls. But the birds should've been nesting, so close to spring. Maybe that was the thing, more than the explosions, more than the radio waves going dark, that settled it for Colt. No birds nesting on Hermes, none that dotted its shoulders or head. No birds.
His father had agreed. Must've died before they could find their way here, he'd said, and clapped Colt on the shoulder. They'd celebrated his 27th birthday not long after. His mother had made his favorite lemon cream cake with the last of the juice from the small general store down the road.
When summer arrived and it wasn't just the birds that didn't come, they decided. Colt would stay. Keep up the chickens, the heifer. His parents would go - go and see. Maybe they thought that if he went, he wouldn't come back. Or maybe they just thought that he'd done enough, seen enough. And so when the taillights of the ancient station wagon disappeared down the winding road that led into the foothills, Colt watched from the porch.
It was where he was now, the porch. Late August, the last of the nighttime cool just waiting to be crushed beneath the heel of dawn. The last man left in the world, and a light from the ridge. Firelight, not electric.
He didn't think it was going to be them. |
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