First batch
Claim: Dimitri
Theme names of drabbles: Snow, Music, Cold, Sleep, Luck
Number completed:05/30
Snow
He couldn't sleep. All around him he could hear the even breathing of those sleeping. Quietly, carefully, he climbed over the shadowy figures of the other servant boys, lying on the floor, making his way to the only window in the room. Finally it loomed in front of him. His tiny hand grabbed the frame for support as he began climbing the windowsill. Pressing his warm face against the glass, the four-year-old boy stared into the darkness. Snowflakes were falling. Dimitri smiled. How he longed to play in the snow, but he was never allowed. Smiling, he began to dream.
Cold
Trudging through several feet of snow, Dimitri made his way to the black market. Vlad would arrive in a few minutes. Standing in the biting cold, Dimitri rubbed his hands, softly blowing them. They were red. He buried the tip of his nose in his scarf, hiding the lover half of his face. Never had a winter seemed this cold and grey. Small ice crystals had formed in his lashes. When they'd have the ten million roubles he would never go out in winter. He would sit in front of a blazing, warm, fire. He would never feel cold again.
Sleep
The storm had passed. Gently rocking the ship almost lulled him back to sleep, but he couldn't. He had promised her to stay awake, to guard her. Running his hand through his hair he turned around. His eyes had long adjusted themselves to the darkness. He saw her sleeping form, caressed by the moonlight. Her features were soft and peaceful when she was sleeping. He remembered her shivering body pressed against him only hours ago. He had felt the strong urge to protect her. Never before had she seemed so vulnerable and small. She sighed in her sleep. Dimitri smiled.
Luck
"Good luck," he whispered and blew a kiss to the window. The car stood empty in front of Sophie's house. He wouldn't be there, because she would not want to say goodbye, and to be there meant to hope she would. To wish her good luck was the only thing he could do now. He meant it. She would have her beloved grandmother back, her family. He remembered now: the anniversary, the look of joy on her face when her grandmother had promised her a reunion in Paris. Luck had made this promise come true. Who was he to interrupt?
Music
The music mounted to a crescendo. The giant ballroom was illuminated, and an enormous chandelier was putting the sun to shame. Hundreds of people were dancing, wearing colours Dimitri had never seen in his life. He rubbed an apple on his shirt, watching the crowed in silent amazement. The music the servants played was wilder and yet, mournful and sad. It told stories. This music didn't, it was dead music, artificially composed. It resembled the well choreographed dance on the floor, which was nothing like the dances he knew. Then he heard it: a haunting melody sung by two voices.
Theme names of drabbles: Snow, Music, Cold, Sleep, Luck
Number completed:05/30
Snow
He couldn't sleep. All around him he could hear the even breathing of those sleeping. Quietly, carefully, he climbed over the shadowy figures of the other servant boys, lying on the floor, making his way to the only window in the room. Finally it loomed in front of him. His tiny hand grabbed the frame for support as he began climbing the windowsill. Pressing his warm face against the glass, the four-year-old boy stared into the darkness. Snowflakes were falling. Dimitri smiled. How he longed to play in the snow, but he was never allowed. Smiling, he began to dream.
Cold
Trudging through several feet of snow, Dimitri made his way to the black market. Vlad would arrive in a few minutes. Standing in the biting cold, Dimitri rubbed his hands, softly blowing them. They were red. He buried the tip of his nose in his scarf, hiding the lover half of his face. Never had a winter seemed this cold and grey. Small ice crystals had formed in his lashes. When they'd have the ten million roubles he would never go out in winter. He would sit in front of a blazing, warm, fire. He would never feel cold again.
Sleep
The storm had passed. Gently rocking the ship almost lulled him back to sleep, but he couldn't. He had promised her to stay awake, to guard her. Running his hand through his hair he turned around. His eyes had long adjusted themselves to the darkness. He saw her sleeping form, caressed by the moonlight. Her features were soft and peaceful when she was sleeping. He remembered her shivering body pressed against him only hours ago. He had felt the strong urge to protect her. Never before had she seemed so vulnerable and small. She sighed in her sleep. Dimitri smiled.
Luck
"Good luck," he whispered and blew a kiss to the window. The car stood empty in front of Sophie's house. He wouldn't be there, because she would not want to say goodbye, and to be there meant to hope she would. To wish her good luck was the only thing he could do now. He meant it. She would have her beloved grandmother back, her family. He remembered now: the anniversary, the look of joy on her face when her grandmother had promised her a reunion in Paris. Luck had made this promise come true. Who was he to interrupt?
Music
The music mounted to a crescendo. The giant ballroom was illuminated, and an enormous chandelier was putting the sun to shame. Hundreds of people were dancing, wearing colours Dimitri had never seen in his life. He rubbed an apple on his shirt, watching the crowed in silent amazement. The music the servants played was wilder and yet, mournful and sad. It told stories. This music didn't, it was dead music, artificially composed. It resembled the well choreographed dance on the floor, which was nothing like the dances he knew. Then he heard it: a haunting melody sung by two voices.