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

toward the terra -> ⌈14.⌋ Relief.

[rawri.livejournal.com]

A dish fell and shattered, and he leaned against the counter and held onto the frustration that followed. It was an accident – it was, they couldn’t prove anything else, it’d slipped right out of his hands, just an accident – but one that he refused to let go, closed green eyes and concentrated.

A bell seemed to ring right in his ear, and the anger, blue and calming and natural, slipped through his fingers.

There was a brief flash of disappointment, but then another bell – bell, buzzer, ringer, wringer, wranglers for cattle – was struck and that flash was gone, too. He rubbed at his temples, fingers lingering on the band around his head for a moment – only a moment, he wasn’t going to yank or tear or scratch at it, he just wanted to feel it, that was all, they couldn't prove otherwise - before stooping down to begin to carefully pick up the pieces. Careful not to be cut, careful not to feel anything, and the whole incident went blessedly silent. He remembered he’d wanted to feel angry, but now, he couldn’t fathom why.

“Oh, dear, let me help you with that.”

He glanced up, took a moment to put face to name to label (girlfriend? or was it fiancé?), and smiled. Why had he wanted to be angry? Everything was perfect. But he looked over her brown hair, straight and long — at her (empty) green eyes — at her cream-colored dress, all curves and flow and no uniqueness, and his smile faltered.

He almost felt the anger coming back, anger at something, but the bell tolled once more and he couldn’t move, couldn’t think. After the blink in time passed, he found his face a few inches from hers, a female face with (mock) concern and a soft hand threading (fake) comfortingly through his hair. “Are you doing that again, honey? They told you not to. It’s bad. You know that. Why do you do it?”

He looked at her clean black shoes, at her thin arms and pale legs, and then he looked at the floor.

She sighed, gripped his forearm lightly, sat back on her heels. Heels in clean white socks and shiny black shoes. “I love you.”

A bell tolled. Black – not the shoes – filled his vision. Her voice filled his mind.

“But if you don’t fight it, I can’t love you.”

She gathered him in her arms (like his m----- had), rested her chin on his shoulder, hair to hair but no skin to skin, and his hands stayed in the pile of broken shards. There was something wet rolling down his cheek, but no bell tolled, and so he relaxed in the blissful quiet that came with feeling nothing.

She released him, (triumphantly) smiled. “See? That wasn’t hard, Jomy. Now let’s finish cleaning this up.”