sm_monthly July 3 theme
Writing this in an actual airport with my computer off, I found myself in that twitchy position of suddenly feeling the immense need to google something of no importance whatsoever and lacking internet. Later I would discover there is, in fact, such a thing as a direct flight between Narita and Heathrow (edit: according to one frame in episode 26, Mamoru's ticket is of the direct; no one cares), and while it is theoretically possible to go between the two by way of New Delhi, this is not the normal stopover recommended by the internet airline companies, which is Singapore, Hong Kong, or somewhere in Eastern Europe. So this drabble must be set in Copenhagen or Munich or something, not that it matters or in is any way specific, let alone accurately so.
Title: Gathering Darkness (aka Threat Advisory)
Author: purplekitte
Medium: Fanfic
Theme: PGSM--Journey
Genre: Angst
Version: PGSM
Rating: PG
If there was one thing that could be said for pollution, it made for splendid sunsets.
In the upper part of the windows, it was still baby blue. Below, though, the wake of the sun burned golden, with the clouds beyond the orange fire still a blazing pink with shadows of purple against an almost colorless, pale green-gray backdrop.
Below that too was a shadow. The young man wore black, brooded with an intensity that left the whole row of chairs around him in the airport empty. The shadows under his eyes were dark from over a dozen hours’ travel without sleep (though he hadn’t done that in longer) and only halfway between Narita and Heathrow.
A few people, the more perception, probably the ones who had been watching the sunset, thought that only a woman could make a man look as unhappy as that. Perhaps one or two thought they saw a man in white sit beside the dark man, briefly, before disappearing again, but that was only a trick of the light.
Title: Gathering Darkness (aka Threat Advisory)
Author: purplekitte
Medium: Fanfic
Theme: PGSM--Journey
Genre: Angst
Version: PGSM
Rating: PG
If there was one thing that could be said for pollution, it made for splendid sunsets.
In the upper part of the windows, it was still baby blue. Below, though, the wake of the sun burned golden, with the clouds beyond the orange fire still a blazing pink with shadows of purple against an almost colorless, pale green-gray backdrop.
Below that too was a shadow. The young man wore black, brooded with an intensity that left the whole row of chairs around him in the airport empty. The shadows under his eyes were dark from over a dozen hours’ travel without sleep (though he hadn’t done that in longer) and only halfway between Narita and Heathrow.
A few people, the more perception, probably the ones who had been watching the sunset, thought that only a woman could make a man look as unhappy as that. Perhaps one or two thought they saw a man in white sit beside the dark man, briefly, before disappearing again, but that was only a trick of the light.