When Bored
When bored, it is unanimously considered a good idea to write about Peacheshipping. Why? because I said so, bitches. Since I'm the only vote which counts, my vote makes things unanimous. Win!
==-==-==
"Do you know why I brought you here, Gallatea?" The strange woman asks, her ornate hair somehow immobile. It should have fallen from its styling combs hours ago. Perhaps, though, some of the suffocatingly powerful magic rolling off her skin is involved in its upkeep. Thea really couldn't bring herself to care less if she tried. But the question? It's an interesting one. So far, the woman has been nothing but generous, no restrictions, no commands. It's disorienting, but the little girl who was born free remembers this feeling, even if the woman she became is vaugely disturbed by it.
"No." SImple answers are generally safe. "Madam." As are terms of respect. But not always. Her muscles tauten as she steels herself against any reprimands. But they never come. They never do.
"You, my dear, are a very important little girl." No one has called Thea a girl in... in a very long time. She says nothing. But then, recollection flares up, wild in the back of her mind. Someone else had caled her girl, earlier this very day. Yellow where this one was blue. Yellow hair, yellow clothes, yellow eyes. Disgustingly bright, almost painful.
She says nothing. It wouldn't do to upset the new owner, just yet.
==-==-==
His hair is black, and his clothes were probably once grey. They're nasty shades of brown now, and he disgusts Horatio, down to her very bones. It's a unique feeling, unfamiliar. She wants more of it.
Particularly since the strange woman went and bought her girl, a few weeks back. She's growing lonely now, though she doesn't quite remember why. Just vague snatches, a silvery ship in the sky, dark skinned woman at her side... No names, no words, only eroded images.
She could find them, if she looked in the massive storage units encased in her wings. But, of course, she has forgotten them, as well.
"Whass your name them?" She asks, her voice tumbling out in a hissed rush of syllables.
The man shrugs, his filthy hair tumbling over his shoulders. "Ma used t'call me Orion. But I had another name, 'fore that. Don' remember it."
"Good enough. Some along then, Orion." And she drags him away.
In the morning, he is gone, replaced by only a little blue gem and the same vicious familiarity. The woman has been here.
Horatio screams.
==-==-==
"You..." The words are fuzzy, sluggish with sleep. To her left, somewhere, there is a massive machine looming. Designed to carry her out of the atmosphere, and into civilization.
But, to her right, a little modicum of civilization exists, all enrobed in such a painful shade of blue.
Her planet doesn't have blue. Except for the sky.
It's interesting. Just exactly the same color as dawn, right before the sun consumes the sky with it's fury of orange and yellow.
"I think... I think I'm..." She hasn't spoken to another in so long. And she isn't sure what language she's using, now. It could just be meaningless grunts. She'd never notice. "I'm supposed to kill you. You stole from me." The words are dull, vaguely confused. She doesn't quite remember where they came from. "I don't think I will though. You seem... nice."
The blue woman doesn't move, her chest rising and falling in deep slumber. Horatio wonders if, perhaps, she hasn't slept in a very long time. Maybe so.
She shrugs, and begins work on her ship once more. Perhaps, when she wakes up, they will speak some more.
==-==-==
"Do you know why I brought you here, Gallatea?" The strange woman asks, her ornate hair somehow immobile. It should have fallen from its styling combs hours ago. Perhaps, though, some of the suffocatingly powerful magic rolling off her skin is involved in its upkeep. Thea really couldn't bring herself to care less if she tried. But the question? It's an interesting one. So far, the woman has been nothing but generous, no restrictions, no commands. It's disorienting, but the little girl who was born free remembers this feeling, even if the woman she became is vaugely disturbed by it.
"No." SImple answers are generally safe. "Madam." As are terms of respect. But not always. Her muscles tauten as she steels herself against any reprimands. But they never come. They never do.
"You, my dear, are a very important little girl." No one has called Thea a girl in... in a very long time. She says nothing. But then, recollection flares up, wild in the back of her mind. Someone else had caled her girl, earlier this very day. Yellow where this one was blue. Yellow hair, yellow clothes, yellow eyes. Disgustingly bright, almost painful.
She says nothing. It wouldn't do to upset the new owner, just yet.
==-==-==
His hair is black, and his clothes were probably once grey. They're nasty shades of brown now, and he disgusts Horatio, down to her very bones. It's a unique feeling, unfamiliar. She wants more of it.
Particularly since the strange woman went and bought her girl, a few weeks back. She's growing lonely now, though she doesn't quite remember why. Just vague snatches, a silvery ship in the sky, dark skinned woman at her side... No names, no words, only eroded images.
She could find them, if she looked in the massive storage units encased in her wings. But, of course, she has forgotten them, as well.
"Whass your name them?" She asks, her voice tumbling out in a hissed rush of syllables.
The man shrugs, his filthy hair tumbling over his shoulders. "Ma used t'call me Orion. But I had another name, 'fore that. Don' remember it."
"Good enough. Some along then, Orion." And she drags him away.
In the morning, he is gone, replaced by only a little blue gem and the same vicious familiarity. The woman has been here.
Horatio screams.
==-==-==
"You..." The words are fuzzy, sluggish with sleep. To her left, somewhere, there is a massive machine looming. Designed to carry her out of the atmosphere, and into civilization.
But, to her right, a little modicum of civilization exists, all enrobed in such a painful shade of blue.
Her planet doesn't have blue. Except for the sky.
It's interesting. Just exactly the same color as dawn, right before the sun consumes the sky with it's fury of orange and yellow.
"I think... I think I'm..." She hasn't spoken to another in so long. And she isn't sure what language she's using, now. It could just be meaningless grunts. She'd never notice. "I'm supposed to kill you. You stole from me." The words are dull, vaguely confused. She doesn't quite remember where they came from. "I don't think I will though. You seem... nice."
The blue woman doesn't move, her chest rising and falling in deep slumber. Horatio wonders if, perhaps, she hasn't slept in a very long time. Maybe so.
She shrugs, and begins work on her ship once more. Perhaps, when she wakes up, they will speak some more.