Apr. 18th, 2013 06:41 pm
tanager: (bright tanager)
Title: Sunshine
Warnings: Violent imagery
Word Count: 100
Notes: For the prompt "Depravity" at [community profile] fiction_drabbles.

“You don’t understand.”

Evelyn laughed. The sound fed itself like a row of bells ringing one another; it was too raw to be musical. “Of course not,” she answered, as lightly as if she’d been brushing a speck of dust off her blouse.

Their shared blood pulled Mia’s mouth into a smirk.

Evelyn tilted her head. Her lips curved with the slightest pout, her riptide-blue eyes sincere. “Good luck. I’m heading south to soak in some sunshine… if you get one alive, would you please send him down?”

Remembering the hostage left behind—inside out—as a message, Mia nodded.

Portraits: Mia (made), Evelyn (made)


Apr. 5th, 2013 05:50 pm
tanager: (big world)

Sitting on the bottom stair
with overcoat on,
eyes fixed
unseeingly on the
shut, unlocked


Mar. 27th, 2013 11:05 pm
tanager: (give and take)
Title: Discount
Word Count: 100
Notes: For the prompt "Help" at [community profile] fiction_drabbles.

Her eyes snorted. Sophia spoke patiently. "I hired Marcell. Where is he?"

"Give me a chance." The spindly boy in a drooping coat held her eyes with his, big and round like oil pools.

Gutsy imbecile. "Want to die, boy?" she fired. "This is a master's job."

"I'll do it for $2000." Barely 2% of Marcell's exorbitant rate. "And―you take me into the Veiled City."

Tempting, if she had time to kill. The floors of his eyes plunged into fathomless wells. Hers flared. He had the power, but the honed skill…?

"Deal." For her amusement, Sophia wasn't gambling her life.

Portraits: Sophia (made), "Boy" (made)


Mar. 24th, 2013 02:57 pm
tanager: (big world)

no gravity, no friction
to push against
me or pull me farther than I want to go

here it's effortless

to build
marble palaces, steel truss bridges, rotting stocks.
I graffiti my own walls.
the materials are everywhere
it's easier here

and new become old
becomes new, recycled in an equation—
nothing lost

here's a whole world built
and being built
and I am its

god to a world without people; )


Mar. 5th, 2013 08:13 pm
tanager: (away)

once upon a time
is now,
our present already misremembered:
blood, flesh, tears forgotten
in the cold
soiled by footsteps
as arms heap up glittering stones.
we cannot give what we do not take.

blinding, untouchable, bland,
we scream
we are here!—and it echoes
as silence gives thanks that we are not.

was before us, before me.
we are creation.
we give and we take away
and we leave nothing

the seas are mine
the stars are mine
wave, tear, hide, watch,
myself, mine to borrow.
can a thirsty child thank to drink
a drop
from endless lakes?


Mar. 2nd, 2013 02:55 pm
tanager: [Final Fantasy] Yazoo (sharp)
Title: Mastery
Warnings: Violence (not graphic)
Word Count: 100
Notes: Written for the prompt "Free" at [community profile] fiction_drabbles. I may write more in this world.

The dream promised freedom.

…from the anxiety that clung like fog to every street and word. A grocery run tugged at spider-threads of alliance and enmity. Chances to kill and gain, exposed―by you? for you? He half-remembers constables, laws, another world's naïve playthings.

Someone was always stronger until no one was. Not this idiot, scavenging the Master's shed. She shatters, begging for her life.

He shuts her up.

Years upon years of freedom, from everything, to do anything. Take―or receive splendid tributes. Command―or accept solicitous service, hear artful ingratiation. Bound in silky ennui, he aches for the bite of fear.


Feb. 26th, 2013 12:46 am
tanager: (bright tanager)
Title: Alyssa
Word Count: 891
Notes: I probably won't be adding to this old character sketch.

She was dressed in a double-layered peach day dress of cotton and velvet, and she absolutely loathed it. Alyssa hated how the top bit attractively into her waist and how the heavy skirt billowed outward over an even heavier petticoat, making running impossible. Her mother, on the other hand, was positively glowing with pride—and a hint of vindictive triumph—as she introduced her daughter to the Duchess of Elanton, Lady Henrietta Amelia Bouchard.

Lady Bouchard had two daughters. )

Hello Again

Feb. 8th, 2013 05:38 pm
tanager: (away)
Title: Hello Again
Word Count: 100
Notes: For the prompt "Trinity" at [community profile] fiction_drabbles.

“You’re dead!”

She smiles. “I was. It didn’t take.”

They stand in a triangle, a mockery of an official meeting. Caelum’s eyes dance, his composure otherwise perfect. Terra grimaces like she’s smashed his kneecaps a foot before the finish line.

He mistakes Caelum’s quiet flexibility for weakness. But did your thugs ever touch toe inside Aeropolis? Aloud, she warns, “The Dei mean for Three to lead―not one. I know that. But They―and we―don’t need you.”

Terra awkwardly extends his hand. Mare snorts a laugh. “We’re not friends, Terry. You chose that.”

“What do you want…?”

She slides away. “Nothing, yet.”


Jan. 2nd, 2013 07:12 pm
tanager: (fallen)

No one ever told him,
"You're just like your brother."
Father kept his silence; a moment of silence
perhaps, that had slipped out of time and stretched into years,
or simply a farmer's practicality—no time to waste
on idle grief. The fields won't plow themselves.

He thought
he'd be like his brother. His brother,
who slew demons to save innocents on heroic adventures
all through the world of his imagination. He
built up a pedestal,
like towering pines in the deep forest,
standing firm until the first lick of flame.
Until—in a single thrust of a sword
and those eyes,
unknowing, uncaring, unfeeling,
stormy-ocean blue like his own—they came
down to earth and under.

Yes, he is like his brother.


Dec. 9th, 2012 10:08 pm
tanager: (takeoff)

I stood by my window at sunrise.
The shutters were in need of repair:
Coal smoke clouded the lilac skies.
The bawl of a babe tore the air.

The breeze brought a hint of the ocean,
At odds with the scene that I see.
Peering out at the world from within—
Unbidden, strange thoughts tug at me.

How easy it'd be to imagine!
If only I closed my eyes,
This world we're condemned to live in
Might be far better than I surmise.

Could I turn a blind eye to corruption?
Could I see virtue where glares only sin?

I dream of long days, unbroken by night,
And though I know that it may not be right—

I want to build a paradise, in my mind,
A sanctuary of cloudless skies.
I want to leave this place behind
And escape to a world of lies.

Notes: I wrote this poem a few years ago and made minor edits today.


Dec. 6th, 2012 10:55 pm
tanager: (fallen)
Title: Stranger
Warnings: Language, mention of violence
Word Count: 312

Another swallow. The half-empty mug clanks down on the counter. There’s a science to this, getting a good buzz going while keeping a white-knuckled grip on the clarity to see a gun pulled—a spark catch—even a spider skitter across the discolored wood wall—

To see the young officer maneuvering past the lively tables, advancing on Will’s nicely solitary corner of the counter. Will warns the man away with a glower; the intruder meets it with a quirking of the stupid grin on his face.

“You the one who took Rakarta back from the traitors?”

The obscenely cheerful question yanks memories by in a flash: boom-shriek-roar-boom-bellowing orders-bodies falling-charging forward-boom-dropping back-dark red on ground-bright red on walls: “THE PEOPLE WILL RULE.” Not my business.

“Fuck off,” he grunts, as the stranger claims the nearest of the half-dozen empty barstools beside him.

“Just got back in from Ettsboro,” the man continues, as if he’d been asked. He’s more drunk than Will ever lets himself get, but Will can’t quite dismiss him as one of the careless idiots who’ll be buried (if he’s lucky) in a few months. The man’s eyes, which haven’t budged from his yet, are a vivid blue. Their intensity, even wrapped in alcohol, drives off the tempting label of a happy fool. This is all wrong. His voice is brash, loud, and too familiar, and Will likes it.

With a long pull from his drink, the man settles in. He sets down his empty mug and calls for the bartender. “Another beer!”

Will stands abruptly. “I’m done for the night.”

He’s not going back to the barracks to play cards with the men, like some officers do in the evening. Bloody team bonding. He’ll keep them alive, if he can, and that’s it. They’re a fighting unit, not some two-point-four-child family. The word slashes into him, bleeding out his frustration.

Notes: I randomly generated Will's personality using this D&D personality generator. The guidelines I got were "Motivation: Protection, Nurturing, Family Values," "Instinct: Hostility, Aggression, Attack," and "Approach: Disciplined Commander." I really like the idea of defining a character by their motivation, instinct, and approach.


Aug. 15th, 2012 12:28 pm
tanager: (bright tanager)
Title: Reversal
Word Count: 100
Notes: My first drabble, written for the prompt "Destroy" at [community profile] fiction_drabbles.

He’s wearing a gold-buttoned velvet coat, gold-threaded tie, gold cufflinks: a dragon’s hoard dumped on her dull floor. Even begging for rescue, his posture demands that she be grateful to breathe his air.

It’s easy to be arrogant, out-of-touch, delusional in his world of balls and banquets and games that frivolously draw blood. That was her world, until:

"You destroyed me."

He recoils from her thanks. His eyes mourn diamond wristwatches and caviar.

"Let me repay the favor."

She applauds him, if he can claw his way up in the real world; she expects to be delighted when he cannot.


Aug. 11th, 2012 11:35 pm
tanager: [Final Fantasy] Kadaj (resolve)
Title: Prayer
Warnings: Pain, self-injury for a purpose
Word Count: 265

She walked further into the cold.

However strong her will, she could not stop the shivers that racked her body or the instinctive clench of her arms around herself. Her fingers, wrapped around bare skin, could feel the miniscule bumps that the chill had raised all along her arm. The wind caressed her gently with icy fingers.

Physical sensation bombarded her mind, binding her fast to the earth even as she strove to soar beyond it. One—step—at a time.

She dropped to her knees in the snow. Her shoulders curled forward, of their own accord, acting sensibly to minimize her exposure. She could not stop one moment of weakness, clinging to even that scrap of protection, and then another—gritting her teeth as an excuse—before arching her body back, allowing the death cold to enter her freely. Her arms, in the motion of being flung out, jerked as the cold landed to feast on every part of her body, a flock of birds, a stabbing of knives, before she managed to continue and force her hands down on, into the snow. They thankfully numbed quickly. Her mind danced wildly among the field of pain that was her body, skipping here and there, no looming tower of particular agony to hold her attention.

She turned her head up toward the sky, an almost uniform blue-gray, and gulped in huge breaths of needles that stabbed at her throat and lungs. In, out, in out cold out in cold cold.

I give up my body. I place myself in your hands.

(Do not abandon me.)


tanager: (Default)

October 2013

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