ficlets100 - number seven.

[rawri]

001.	Guilt	002.	New	003.	Solitude	004.	Content	005.	Tale
006.	Distort	007.	Luxury	008.	Listen	009.	Party	010.	Scent
011.	Storm	012.	Lessons	013.	Apology	014.	Relief	015.	Breeze
016.	Fading	017.	Passion	018.	Stay	019.	Rain	020.	Within
021.	Dread	022.	Revenge	023.	Time	024.	Perfect	025.	Eyes
026.	Bloom	027.	Beginning	028.	Bath	029.	Object	030.	Lost
031.	Pride	032.	Death	033.	Dance	034.	Remember	035.	Savage
036.	Late	037.	Crossroads	038.	Change	039.	Hope	040.	Dawn
041.	Hero	042.	Annoy	043.	Trouble	044.	Imagine	045.	Believe
046.	Words	047.	Home	048.	Understand	049.	Cage	050.	Animal
051.	Woods	052.	Fun	053.	Dare	054.	Spell	055.	Pray
056.	Warmth	057.	Mess	058.	Leap	059.	Attention	060.	Shopping
061.	Dessert	062.	Paper-cut	063.	Compromise	064.	Mouth	065.	Gone
066.	Intuition	067.	Fairies	068.	Gift	069.	Priceless	070.	Jewel
071.	Grin	072.	Quake	073.	Blush	074.	System	075.	Pressure
076.	Crash	077.	Closer	078.	Break	079.	Habit	080.	Safe
081.	Confusion	082.	Someday	083.	Instigate	084.	Goodnight	085.	Paint
086.	Always	087.	Guide	088.	Embrace	089.	Fall	090.	Help
091.	Different	092.	Anticipation	093.	Real	094.	Enough	095.	Again
096.	Glorify.	097.	Lack thereof.	098.	Fix.	099.	Smile.	100.	A little.

Comments

air gear -> ⌈85.⌋ Paint.

[rawri.livejournal.com]

Black was the color of the walls, of the air, of their suits. The computers were white, but when the scientists shut them down and left, they were black, too. Twining fingers and quiet smiles—if she was the sheep painted black by the others, he had had a whole vat of tar dumped on him. They all were nervous, but thoughts were void when one slept in the abyss, and his chest rose and fell just as steadily as hers.

Curled together, hair splayed out, they bumped noses and settled in—he opened his eyes to darkness and shut them to meet the same; the dim glow of floor lights only gave an underpainting of shading, tints and contrasts and layers, piled one on top of the other, black after grey after onyx.

She burrowed in closer, and he threaded his hands through her hair.

If he looked, he’d finally see something else. Dim pink, near white, but nothing at all like grey or black—and that was what made a masterpiece a masterpiece, the subtly in nothingness. When the light caught green, too, he held on tighter and promised never to look at any other art again.

She accepted the vow with a sleepy mummer and a wish to go back to sleep.