I'm going to stick this under a cut because SPOLIERIFIC. Aka. If you've not watched all six currently aired episodes of the BBC's Sherlock WTF ARE YOU DOING HERE?! GO WATCH THEM. NAO. O___O /orders.
Seriously though, I cannot recommend them enough, I'd even go so far as to say they are BETTER than Doctor Who, and the acting, fffffffffffffffffffffffffffff <3 It makes me look forward to The Hobbit more and more.
( A 221b styled ficlet )
4 Comments | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
Just to prove I've not been totally lazy in the writing department. Just mostly lazy. Here's the first scene from the next chapter of CC.
( CH15 Part one )
2 Comments | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
A/N: This idea came back and bit me a few weeks ago. Originally it was supposed to be a one-shot, but, well, it looks like it won’t be; Amy has more to say than that, and Lyle and Neil are just as bad if not worse. Obviously AU and the title (along with the two lines at the beginning and end of this chapter) are from Lover to the Dawn by Bowie, a song which was the original demo version of Cygnet Committee...
( Lover to the Dawn (Ch1) )
1 Comment | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
Slightly updated version of the prologue to ATA while I remember the little details which needed fixing to properly match up with things later.
( 00. Ashes To Ashes )
1 Comment | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
 |
| 2011-08-08 16:53 |
| We Had A Friend, A Talking Man |
| Public |
| "Libera Me" From Hell ~ Taku Iwasaki |
| cygnet committee, wip |
|
( 14. We Had A Friend, A Talking Man )
2 Comments | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
 |
| 2011-07-28 11:47 |
| Amecon, Amecon, Amecon~ |
| Public |
| The Printer.... Kehehehe.... |
| con-life |
|
AmeCon is currently closed for maintenance. Return in August for details of the next AmeCon.
....This makes me somewhat unbelivably excited. It also reminds me I should be going back to Selphie and, you know, actually making some of this damn costume instead of sulking about how it doesn't fskin' work. I really need to just put aside a day to do nothing but cosplay work and stop procrastinating.
I think Jackie and I may be buying con tickets and accomodation, um, a year in advance at this rate if those two little sentences up there are anything to go by, because, it's Amecon and Jackie never misses an Amecon and, hey, getting straight in there with registration when it opens is a hilarious and gleefilled thing. ...pfffffffffffffthahahahaaaaaaa. I could totally book holiday from work a year in advance of the date. For some reason that just makes it all the better.
(I'm thinking Kita is currently off the books, which makes cosplay-life a little easier; only three costumes for definate as opposed to six, which means I can spend far more time on each of them and get them right.)
Aaaaaaaaaarg, gawd, Sio's online and I want to squee about Ame, but I can't squee at her in case she then wants to come. fssssssssssssssssk.
So instead I'm now making Jackie curse because she wants to start work on cosplay and designing Irvine's costume as much as me. I...am abusing the work printer to snag some design idaes and refs for the goggles. >3 You can buy a premade set...for £40+. Or, buy some cheep ass swimming goggles (a whole £2 from ASDA) and butcher them with paint and fabric and cardboard. Guess which one I'm going for :D ...I really like the goggles idea in my head with clockwork gears and stuff on it and I think it may end up my favourite part of the costume. That and the boots. But I just love boots full stop. *SHOT*
I should get designing. And then maybe get playing this evening. And someone please beat me round teh head with something if I don't do anything about that damn skirt this weekend.
Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
 |
|
Ugh, my jeans are soggy and, guess what? Nope, go on, guess... Yep. I have no work. No work from the get go today, just a few phone calls to answer. And LJ still seems to be broken, which is a bother as it means I still can't read that LoA bit.
So, instead... I am using my work hours to start typing up and heavily editing to death this chapter of CC which has been sitting in my notebook for the past two or three weeks. Seriously, it's in such need of a machette being taken to it it will probably take me a while to get it done. It's even choppier than usual; I think I need some inspiration back. Or possibly just a good kicking to stop procrastinating in the evenings.
...It's really hard to try and remember to copy/paste to my email draft copy to save this chapter instead of saving to the hardrive... And there's a lot of red lines on this document; must resist the temptation to add strange names to the dictionary on this computer... And the brightness or something is shite on this thing, doesn't help having the window right behind it.
I wish I had an actual dictionary on me right now; my spelling is so awful word has just given up even trying to suggest what I might be trying to write. However, on the plus side I just broke 1k :D Ahhh, good old google: asphyxiation. I was never going to be able to spell that word without help.
Oh, damn my short attention span. Asa,fjaeifqaekfming plot bunnies. Between that past bit above and skimming through a fic masterlist I've been blindsided by a dark one. I'm just not quite sure if it's fic or HO, and if it's fic which one. It's possibly Ashes To Ashes. Which, really, just means I'm screwed. But I'm no better off if it's Amigone. *facedesk many times over* Oh Neil, why so fsk'd up, darling.....
And, I don't like the phone. I mean, I don't mind it most of the time, but I also don't exactly relish dealing with idoits, donkeys and bad lines. *throws the phone out the window and goes about trying to figure out how to deal with that damn plot mecha, because it is a plot mecha now and it's both fun and fsk'd up*
So, here's a snippet of the next chappy of CC to tide you over:
“Maybe later, I’m sure there are things more important than gossip going on,” he looked around the hanger, the people still milling around, Eco talking to a few colleagues using wide gestures and exaggerated expressions. No one looked to be in a hurry, so nothing was urgent or wrong. “And I doubt you were here just to meet me, so what’s arriving, old man?”
“Too smart for your own good you are.”
“Doesn’t take a genius to know you wouldn’t be here unless it’s a new toy or wearing a short skirt, so which is it?”
“Parts for a new support machine, though I wouldn’t put it past those two to dress in skirts for a dare.”
Neil gave the mechanic a somewhat confused look; he hadn’t met anyone quite that crazy in Celestial Being yet.
2 Comments | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
 |
|
I work for idiots. I just thought I'd throw this out there: I work for a bunch of complete flaming idiots who are actually trying my patience with their inability to properly run an actual business.
They do not keep their customers informed of changes to the schedual - I have just been on the phone with a customer who is threatening to go elsewhere because the lack of comunication is costing them a days work. They do not keep on top of their payments - they have outstanding invoices from three months ago which they are ignoring. They do not keep on top of getting any of their paper work out - I have an invoice for a job sitting on my desk which a certain someone was supposed to hand-deliver last week and hasn't.
I can put up with the getting paid to do jack shit, sure it's frustrating, but hey, it's piss easy money and at this rate I'll have actually read everything on my shelves within a month or two. (Today's work consisted of puting a piece of paper in an envelope, and yesterday's was filing a whole of three pieces of paper.) But what I cannot put up with is this out-and-out feckin' stupidity and lack of business sense, or even any feckin' sense at all. Seriously, it goes beyond the realms of stupid and into that of business-suicide. If even I can see how detremental this behaviour is then they're up shit creek without a paddle quite frankly and they don't seem to be willing to do a damn thing about it.
Sorry for the rant, but, ugh, grr and arg.
...I know Waterstones don't have any vaccancies at the moment, but it's very attemping to apply anyway; they should be taking on CVs for seasonal staff in a month or two and at least they know how to run a feckin' business properly.
2 Comments | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
 |
|
But not today.
Huh, I think someone may have taken the less-than-subtle hint. Miracles. [Radio One was playing. Loudly. Which, given my proximity to the radio was making it fsking hard to hear people on the phone, thus I shut the door. Radio has now gone off. Never was particularly fond of that station anyway; too much dance and not enough rock.]
I think I may already be glad when this day is over, tempers seem to be running short and I dislike trying to work in such an atmosphere. I also can't say tomorrow will be too much better as it is Jan's day off, thus Natasha will be in charge at Naomi House and, I don't know, she's just not as friendly or understanding of how things work at the Eastleigh branch. Not to mention I will have to, quite literally, be in two places at once - I am supposed to be at Naomi House in the morning, but I also need to be at the post office and being a Saturday they are only open until lunch.
Another thing which has me somewhat wondering why the fsk I bother sometimes is that dad never seems to be happy with anything Nick or I do. We both have jobs now, sure, they're not great wage or hours, but we have them and he can't seems to understand that, in this climate, that's a damned miracle in it's own right, all he can say is that we should be looking for better ones, he doesn't seem to understand a) how rude that is to the people how have hired us this time and b) how fsking hard it is still. And Nick... Nick's never going to be able to do a nine-to-five-office-job, he's too active for that, which seems to make him a disappointment to dad, which, yeah, irritating. I...could do one, I wouldn't like it, but I could do it. It's just, it's a real pain in the arse when you feel nothing you do is good enough, never has been and never will be, and I know I shouldn't pay him any attention when he says those things, in his day that was what was expected and he just can't get past it and understand that nine-to-five-office isn't always everyone's job.
Anyway, out of work again, so lets go see if there's any other menial labour to be done or if I'll just sit here spinning in my chair waiting for the sky to fall.
1 Comment | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
This week just keeps getting more and more hilarious. Yesterday I was sewing while stuffing envelopes, today...I'm reading and nothing else, thus the yoinking of the laptop and messing about on the interwebs. I keep thinking I should do something, but I'm not really too sure what exactly.
So, I may come back to this later and write something. We shall see.
Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
 |
|
...Yeah, run out of stuff to do. Again. And I still have two and a half hours left of my shift. Such win.
Anyway, it's been...an interesting couple of weeks, good points and bad, but as stated quite nicely in the wonderfully amusing email I got from Pete today discussing the merits of how much more fun volunteer work is than actual work amongst other things, well, that's why they have to pay you for actual work.
On the plus sides, I can listen to radio...well, in my case last fm, and I have access to the internet and can write fic in my notebook when I get really bored. Oh yes, and free access to tea.
On the minus...there's only so much of the same mindnumbing listing I can take. Thankfully just finished that, which is why there's now nothing to do. Also, the filing system...is non-existant enough to make my fingers twitch and want to do something about it all. Ditto on the somewhat lax manner about returning calls. I take messages, and I had two calls just this morning alone with people saying they've called three or four times now can someone please return the call. I can't, I don't know what needs doing, all I can do is pass the message along and hope.
In other news I'm somewhat jealous of Jackie - she's found a cosplaying friend in another ALT, one who knows of events in Sendai. She's having Beatrix shipped out to her as a consequence so she can attend too. My own cosplay plans are tentatively Kita and definatly Ame 2012 (we hope), consequently I'm somewhat planning, once the weather improves and I have a Saturday free, to do a massive trip to Fabric Land and pick up everything I can think of that I know I need. Currently this would be black cotton twill, white cotton lawn, gold organza, brown cotton, plus whatever I decide to use for Sharon. That's four different costumes just with that selection, not whole costumes, but at least a start. I'm back into wanting to do Brigantia!Neil, which I think I'll use for Kita along with Sharon and Ma Cherie!Neil for my lazy/easy Friday travel costume. Kita is RG Veda (possibly Kendappa, red version) and steampunk!Selphie, with probably Ma Cherie for the Friday again. My ball/prom costumes are...something of a secret and something of an unknown, neither of which would be recognisable, but one or both, time depending, would be fun.
Writing wise... I've gone back a bit in style, I'm going back to hand writing everything first, which is including picking up D&A again and re-vamping HO for the umpteenth time, both of those have seperate notebooks. It seems to be a way of writing which has worked well for ficcing, so hopefully it will translate to original fiction as well. So far I have prologue and chapter one of D&A redone, I probably won't start typing anything up though until I'm actually done with the story, that way I'll actually have the whole thing there to mess with in front of me rather than second guessing myself. HO...well, that's just a mess no matter how you look at it, so re-vamping it will hopefully get back some of the vague plot it is missing, and, in re-reading Hal Duncan of late, I've been reminded of what exactly I was trying to accomplish with HO, and what I have right now is so far derailed from that... Yeah.
Anyway, best be fleeing and find out if anyone has anything for me to actually do yet.
2 Comments | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
 |
|
So, two of my good friends are safely in Japan and pretty much run ragged by the sounds of it, but they got to meet up yesterday since they both had a day off and fun was had, which makes me happy. However, Jackie's found out her general school-year timetable and Ayacon is now a no-go for the simple fact that term restarts for her the Monday after the con. XD So, yeah. A relief to my bank balance though, since jobs are harder to find than a copy of Bowie's Lover To The Dawn and I'd have been covering her ticket and accomodation too until she could pay me back in August, which would probably have been the best part of about £250.
I think due to the general state of my life - namely: jobless - everything feels very stale, stuck in the mud, etc. Nothing is going anywhere, and while Cygnet Committee is so well loved by my dead reviewer, it's not going to earn me anything, it's a bit of fun for me and consequently it does mean there's a voice in the back of my head reminding me of this fact and the fact I should be writing other things. But then I sit down to write these 'other' things and they, too, just feel stale, nothing in my life is going anywhere. Even writing this is feeling like a drag and it's tempting to just hit delete and bury my nose in a book or something.
I wouldn't trade it because parts of it were great fun and I met some good people, buut I wonder what the point in my four year university course and fuck off great bit debt was, because it's got me nowhere.
Ugh, and because this is also going nowhere, here, I shall depart with L'arc~en~Ciel Paris Live Medley. Enjoy the pretty and the awesome.
2 Comments | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
 |
|
Maybes And Mistakes;
Walking through the Goblin City freely was a strange feeling and Sarah half expected to be set upon at any moment, looking back over her shoulder for would-be goblin attackers or perhaps one rouge and irritated barn owl out on a revenge quest, but that may have just been her paranoia talking. Instead she thought she could hear the occasional awed whisper through an open window of ‘Lady Sarah’, but mostly she just listened to the ramblings of Alice and the Hatter, interjected with occasional questions of her own about what exactly a Jabberwocky was – asides a confusing piece of poetry she’d once studied – and how come the Bandersnatch was so feared when he was such a tame beast.
The latter had earned her a sigh and a shake of the head from Hoggle, while Alice had been delighted to know someone shared in her options of the creature.
All too soon though the castle gates loomed and Sarah’s pace slowed until she came to a stop not four steps away from the great, towering wooden doors.
“Why are we stopping?” Alice asked, slowing down as well but stopping a step in front of Sarah, hovering with her hand stretched toward the doors. “Surely we should keep moving?”
Sarah didn’t quite know why her feet had stopped, and didn’t like the idea that her heart rate had definitely risen as they grew closer to their destination, and, by proxy, to the Goblin King.
“We’re not,” she replied stubbornly, forcing herself to put one foot in front of the other and her hands out in front of her to throw the doors open, the noise they made impressive as they hit the walls. Maybe she shouldn’t have pushed quite so hard.
Behind her Tarrant apologised to the doors and Hoggle gave up asking the Bandersnatch to wait outside, dubious that the creature wouldn’t just bite his head off, and so the entire party continued down the hall to the throne room, following Sarah who seemed to be stalking instead of merely walking, her shoes ringing out clearly against the stone.
“Are you sure she is alright?” Sarah heard Tarrant ask in a not all too quiet tone.
Hoggle’s reply was muffled, but the response from the Hatter was vaguely agreeable.
The Labyrinth’s Champion, however, had far more important things on her mind, like whether or not she was about to be turned into a toad. It was probably an exaggeration, and even she knew and understood that, but she couldn’t help the more imaginative part of her mind running wild, after all she had beaten and humiliated a king and that was not something which could be forgotten so easily. She certainly hadn’t forgotten it – any of it – and that was what worried her the most. She was not more than a few meters away from the doors which stood between little human her and someone who was apparently as mortal as she and had invaded more of her dreams over the years since she’d left than she would ever be willing to admit.
Sarah Williams was downright terrified, but not of the king, she was, she realised after she had one hand on the throne room door, terrified of herself. She was terrified of what she might say or do and, all rumours aside, of being completely crushed.
---
Jareth could hear the footsteps, he would have been surprised if anyone couldn’t; his guests sounded at least as bad as the goblins, if not worse. He also decided that Lady Luck had to hate him today, honestly, truly, hate him and he wondered what he had done to invoke her anger.
At his feet two chickens fought over some scrap a goblin had dropped before he had ordered them all out of the room before more of them joined their fellow subject in flight lessons conducted from the throne room window. It was tempting to kick the clucking creatures, but the king resisted lest he bring down even worse luck. Luck, after all, did have a soft spot from the chickens, though it was anyone’s guess as to why.
He knew – even before he saw her – that it was Sarah leading the rag-tag group into his throne room, and, judging by the racket she was not here for a peaceful reunion.
“You should knock first,” Hoggle was saying, though no one was listening, and, rightfully, there were nerves in the dwarf’s voice.
“Twaddle.”
Tarrant too, had come to visit then, must have heard of the Red Queen’s return and no doubt Mirana had sent Sarah along with him somehow. She did like to meddle the White Queen did, Jareth was really going to have to find her a less troublesome hobby, if nothing else then to allow him to get into his own trouble in peace.
“I’m here because Hoggle asked me to.”
Inwardly Jareth flinched; Sarah had lost none of her haughty steel.
He really rather disliked that goblin earlier for reminding him just how he – unfortunately – felt about the girl because clearly she did not feel the same.
“And why,” he began, keeping his voice cool and level, “Did Hoggle ask you to come?”
“He,” Sarah raised her head, ever the defiant one. “He said that there was trouble and that I was needed.”
The dwarf shrunk back, and Jareth, for the first time since their entrance noticed Alice, hand in hand with Tarrant who could not have looked happier about it, but also the Bandersnatch sitting contentedly behind Sarah, and wondered what it was with the woman and large, dangerous beasts.
“I was just passing on what I’d heard,” Hoggle said from what he considered a safe and well fortified position. “What Didymus told me.”
“Blasted fox, I’ll ring his neck-”
“Leave Sir Didymus out of this, J-” Sarah stopped, breathed, “Goblin King.”
“If my subjects are actively going behind my back then that is treason against the crown and they should be punished as such.”
He had risen from his throne as he spoke, stalking down the steps, eyes fixed on the girl – now so much a woman – who defied and infuriated him at every turn, at every possibly opportunity, and cared not a whit for the consequences.
He saw something inside her snap, “And if you cannot care for them as you should then you are not fit to be king and deserve whatever fate has in store for you.”
Then Sarah, Champion of the Labyrinth, turned and left through the nearest exist, the wooden door slamming loudly behind her, leaving everyone to watch the space she had just been stood in.
“Well, you old coot,” Tarrant said finally, lightly and yet firmly, a peculiar amusement in his eyes. “You should probably go after her.”
“Why ever should I do that, she has made her feelings perfectly clear.”
“Because that was the door to the dungeons, unless you’ve redecorated or moved the tea rooms, which would be a bad choice of location for the tea rooms, far too damp and dark and-”
“Iracebeth.”
The realisation hit hard: he had imprisoned the crazy Red Queen and Sarah had just gone and stormed straight into her cell.
“That wasn’t the word I was going for, but yes,” Tarrant nodded, smiling widely, but Jareth was already gone, dignity as forgotten as the ring that that Sarah had dropped, the plastic piece of costume jewellery rolling to a halt by the Hatter’s feet and he bent to pick it up, placing it in a pocket and began to search for more shortbread to share while they waited.
Jareth never heard Alice ask if they should go after him and help, or Tarrant’s reply that they had already played their part for this act.
2 Comments | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
Likley to be chapter one of who-knows-how-many, but shall remain thus for some time yet.
( Amigone )
2 Comments | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
 |
|
Greek mythology ftw and Greek spelling doubly so.
Daidalos;
He knew he wasn’t allowed to smoke onboard the ship, but that didn’t stop him from staring at the cigarette in his hand, debating if it was worth being yelled at by Tieria or Miss Sumeragi, or worse, the sad look he would get from little Feldt. Only, she wasn’t so little anymore and the other two were otherwise occupied with more fears and worries than he could count. He didn’t want to know what damage the stress was causing their already over-worked bodies; he had warned them of the dangers, told them to get some rest, but it seemed like no one listened to the doctor’s orders these days. So maybe no one would notice or care if he indulged his vices.
“You’ll stain the walls if you light that in here, and I’m not repainting them for you.”
The doctor sighed, flicking the unlit cigarette away, watching it twirl across the room before finally looking over the top of his sunglasses at his long-time friend and colleague, “I don’t even have a lighter anymore, you borrowed my last one three years ago and I haven’t seen it since.”
Ian Vashti laughed, the sound filling the room in a way that only Ian could manage. Letting the doors close behind him and taking a seat opposite his friend the mechanic made himself comfortable, at least as comfortable as was possible on one of the plastic chairs that had been supplied, “Someone has to keep an eye out for you.”
Somewhere underneath the casual words was an accusation of hypocrisy – how could he tell everyone else to get rest when he wasn’t?
It was an easy argument to counter though, “Someone has to keep an eye on the kid.” He nodded towards the bed where the ‘kid’ was currently out like a light thanks to the drugs Moreno had pumped into his system; the only way to get him to shut up and do as he was told. “Someone has to make sure he doesn’t do anything…stupid when he wakes up.”
Ian followed his friend’s gaze, “You think he would?”
J.B. Moreno only smiled in reply; patient-doctor confidentiality and all that.
In his mind such simple little things still remained at the core of his profession, regardless of Veda or world domination or even friendship. That and the Hippocratic Oath, as out-dated as it was now, were the rules he lived by and that was all, and maybe that was why he’d taken up smoking all those years ago. Sometimes it was harder than he could have ever imagined keeping to ideals that were so straightforward on paper, especially when they went against direct orders.
He could still hear the field marshal ordering the deaths of people he’d considered patients – human beings who happened to be fighting for the other side – the gunfire execution he’d been forced to bear witness to, and his own words that had followed the event. He’d faced a choice that day between his morals and his orders, and that night, lying awake in bed, he knew he’d chosen wrong and set about making it right, walking out on his job and expecting a bullet to the head for his troubles he’d picked up the cigarettes from a dead man’s pocket and never put them down again.
“You’re right,” Ian agreed, spreading his arms wide and leaning back in the chair, “but then, everyone on this ship’s barking, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise.”
Moreno smiled, “To you or to me?”
“Me, I was just thinking aloud.”
“You always did talk too much.”
“How do you think I always got into so much trouble at MFS? It’s still kind of surprising old Herfi didn’t kill me.”
“Telicyra, you mean?” The doctor began digging through the pile of junk for the bottle and glasses he kept in the bottom drawer of his desk, recalling his partner, the work they’d done and the research notes he’d walked away with when Ruido had come knocking. Tieria actually reminded him a lot of his previous colleague; both were far too serious and well dressed for their own good. “He was too absorbed in his work to even remember five minutes after you’d left the room.”
“You could have told me that at the time, do you have any idea how many hours I spent hiding in the hanger after getting on his wrong side?”
Successfully retrieving the bottle Moreno poured the brandy into the two slightly chipped old glasses, handing one to his friend, “You deserved it.”
Ian laughed, “The hours of living in fear for my life or the drink?”
“Both.”
They drank together in silence for a while, the doctor watching his patient through the distortions of the liquid in his glass, the brandy burning just the way it should on the way down, the last of that he had brought from home. If he could even call the place home anymore; he hadn’t been back in over twenty years. If there was even a place left to call home. War had stolen a lot of things from a lot of people over the years, and his homeland was no different. Perhaps that was why he stayed here and watched instead of getting the shut eye he prescribed for everyone else: he would see no other homes destroyed when it was within his power to stop it.
The doctor’s eyes never left the kid he’d first met five years earlier, the one with so much stubborn determination Moreno had feared he would go and do something stupid, and now he had, stupid and kind and cruel, and it was making him think, “What do you think, Ian?”
The mechanic lowered his glass, “About what?”
“Our chances.”
Ian’s smile slipped, now a touch less jovial and bit more aged as he replied, “No better than Chall’s but no worse than Ruido’s.”
Moreno reached for the brandy to refill his glass at the sobering thought, a thought that had already been whispering in his own ear, and he hadn’t needed Veda or Sumeragi to forecast it for him.
“You’d best go get some rest then, my friend,” he said. “You’ll need it for the morning, they’ll need you.”
Ian’s empty glass was placed on the desk, “Thanks for the drink, I’ll see you later, don’t stay up too late.”
They both knew though that the doctor would not rest, maintaining his silent vigil throughout the night in the company of his brandy, unlit cigarettes and unconscious patient, ignoring for the most part the memories of the past and the comrades who had died because he had been too late to save them.
He was less than surprised the next day when the sniper awoke, refusing treatment, seeing in the kid’s good eye the same stubborn determination he had five ago when the boy had walked into his office with lies on tongue and fire in his blood. He’d signed the clearance papers with the same sense of trepidation now as he had then, knowing that the kid would find a way to fight regardless of his orders. He was just a doctor, not a commanding officer; his words meant little in the past and nothing now.
“Thanks, J.B.”
The doctor could tell that the sniper meant those words as he walked out of the office, but all Moreno saw was the nineteen year old boy and all the other young boys he’d seen on Earth’s battlefields with the military and with the Médecins Sans Frontières.
He saw his ideals and orders and choices and heard Ian laughing about the latest developments in safety within the suits they’d built.
He reached for the now empty bottle of brandy as he realised he could only ever offer wax wings to boys who would always fly too close to the sun, and, alone in his office, Joyce Moreno laughed before he died.
1 Comment | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
 |
| 2011-04-13 19:08 |
| I Tire.... |
| Public |
| More Of Nick's Music |
| tired-cat |
|
I tire of the fact my friend cares nothing of my life. The few times I tried to bring up my fun convention weekend I was completely blanked. I don't think I'll bother bringing her back anything next time, or even bother telling her I'm going since it's obvious that she does not actual care.
And I tire of the way my grandmother treats me. To her I am not an adult, and the call I received first thing this morning was one wherein she repeatedly called me a liar and as good as said it would be my fault if she keeled over dead because no one had been in to administer her medication. They were. She called me a liar again.
3 Comments | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
|
| 2011-03-28 14:54 |
| This Is Offically Geeky Of Me |
| Public |
| Gold Saucer |
| geeky-cat, random |
|
In my remembered quest to add some small detail to the bow for Sunday's costume I've possibly outdone myself in geeky.
It makes sense that the bow, given the character, should be named Dynames. Given the fantasy update, however, English would be borning. So I decided to backtrack it to Greek since I already knew that it was taken from Greek and meant power. A little digging and I find that Dynames is actually not quite correct, and it should be Dynamis. Same meaning, likely just taken from the capitalised version. Dynamis, however, was a queen - cue some quite hysterical sniggering into my tea - and rather than just 'power' in general the actual meaning is 'Powerful One', and upon her gravestone is a horseman with a bow and quiver.
This is all quite awesome and makes me rather happy.
Further giggles, however, come from this string of distractions. One epithet of hers is 'Lover of Rome'. Rome used, of course, Latin, and whilst 'Hallelujah' originates from the Hebrew Halleluya, 'Allelujah' originates more from the Latin Alleluia.
...I think I just gave fandom some very role-reversed name-based shipping fodder.
But it was fun.
Now I just need to resist the temptation to drop into CC this little revelation regarding the first part.
2 Comments | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
|
| 2011-03-24 13:54 |
| *Insert Banshee Impression Here* |
| Public |
| I wish there was music; all I can hear is the phone. |
| annoyed-cat, stressed-cat |
|
I have a headache, quite possibly a twitch, and am actually getting quite angry with the amount of emotioal blackmail Gran's laying so thick. By half one this afternoon the phone call tally was already in the 50s.
Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
|
|
|
|
|