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Jan. 20th, 2003 02:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dewingedThe system was down most of the morning and early afternoon today. So, I found myself getting to work. Opened Word, and started writing. Feedback...well, I can't order y'all to do so, but it would be greatly appreciated. :)
[Error: Irreparable invalid markup ('<lj-cut="a>') in entry. Owner must fix manually. Raw contents below.]
The system was down most of the morning and early afternoon today. So, I found myself getting to work. Opened Word, and started writing. Feedback...well, I can't order y'all to do so, but it would be greatly appreciated. :)
<lj-cut="A Scene In Progress">
Brandon eventually came to the roof, just as Jake knew he would.
Bailey Hall, on the far edge of the campus, was considered a safe haven for any of the team. Just to talk, or to be alone, the roof was far enough from any of the dorms to ensure that they wouldn’t be spotted. In most cases, it wasn’t a bad thing to be seen, since most of the people affected by the Millennium Dawn were seen with fascination, if not outright cheers. The Social Sciences building tended to be deserted once classes ended at night, unlike Matthison Hall, where the Bio and Chem majors labored into the wee hours of the morning. When any of them needed to talk, they would usually saying they were going to ‘the roof,’ and the team invariably knew what the person was talking about. College-age Dawn Children were still college-age people, with the pressures of Dawn Children abilities, feats considered unbelievable by a good portion of the world. But, still people, if of the advanced type, they still needed to be alone, or to talk, or to think.
Jake knew he would come here. When he left, Jake didn’t have to say he was going to ‘the roof’ to think. The windswept roof was one of his favorite places, and he was sure he had coined the term the entire team used, now. But, tonight, he didn’t say it. He knew he didn’t have to.
He knew Brandon would come here. Looking for him, and for answers.
The only reason he managed to make it here at all was because he remembered the look on Bran’s face. Shock like that could not, would not have been faked. This was no camera shoot, no sound byte for the News at Eleven. This was reality, which Jake considered to be at a whole new level of suck at the present moment. Any other time, Brandon could have caught him. He was faster, stronger, hardier…perfect. While his own psychokinetic abilities were nothing to sneeze at, Jake knew, in an out-and-out fight, which one of them he believed would win.
He tugged at the half-mask covering his nose and mouth, dark-blue and heavily padded. The mask was normally used by skiers to protect their face from the cold, but Jake was one of the few Dawn Children to use something to hide his features, for his own reasons. The world knew of Poltergeist, not of Jake, and he preferred that way. One more mask to add to the stack, protecting his identity, his self. The half-mask for the face, combined with the dark-blue bandanna tied around his head, left only his eyes showing to the world. The eyes themselves were a plain brown to his estimation, the same color as the hair he kept tucked under the bandanna.
That’s how he hid from the world. Not like Brandon. Paragon was one of the first to go public, and he never wore a mask. And, not for the first time, Jake felt the green feeling well up inside his chest at the thought. Paragon…Brandon was just that. Open to the world, nothing to hide, a smile at every turn. Jake’s smile, he knew, was just one of a hundred thousand others, seen and forgotten in the space of a second.
He’d come, Jake knew. It was in his nature.
The wind, swirling into life on an early February night, pushed against Jake as he leaned forward against the roof’s edge, brushing against his ears in gusts, as if saying ‘Don’t.’ He wouldn’t. At the end of the day, he would live. And the next day, and the next, until the last hour or so of his life thus far faded into the smoky dream most memories became with the passage of time. His fingers, not gloved this time, traces the white grainy smears against the pale granite of the roof ledge. Keith’s doing, Jake thought. Keith liked to run his clawed fingers along the edge while he was deep in thought, or imagining something, or just when he was bored. And, for someone who was seemingly adopting more and more cat-like qualities weekly, boredom was almost a constant state of mind for Keith, or Stray, as the people called him. Who knew when he made these claw marks. It wasn’t now, since Keith was nowhere in sight.
“I knew you’d be here,” came the voice. It was baritone, each word practiced, strong: chocolate to the ears.
Jake didn’t dare turn around just yet. If his eyes met those baby blues, his words, his control, his Self…would fail him. In small ways, over the months since the Dawn, it always did when their presences met. But, that’s why they had masks, after all. Some of them did. He did come, like Jake knew he would, and Jake instantly wished he hadn’t. In his head, he wished him away.
Ok, that's all I could do so far. Tell me what you think.
<lj-cut="A Scene In Progress">
Brandon eventually came to the roof, just as Jake knew he would.
Bailey Hall, on the far edge of the campus, was considered a safe haven for any of the team. Just to talk, or to be alone, the roof was far enough from any of the dorms to ensure that they wouldn’t be spotted. In most cases, it wasn’t a bad thing to be seen, since most of the people affected by the Millennium Dawn were seen with fascination, if not outright cheers. The Social Sciences building tended to be deserted once classes ended at night, unlike Matthison Hall, where the Bio and Chem majors labored into the wee hours of the morning. When any of them needed to talk, they would usually saying they were going to ‘the roof,’ and the team invariably knew what the person was talking about. College-age Dawn Children were still college-age people, with the pressures of Dawn Children abilities, feats considered unbelievable by a good portion of the world. But, still people, if of the advanced type, they still needed to be alone, or to talk, or to think.
Jake knew he would come here. When he left, Jake didn’t have to say he was going to ‘the roof’ to think. The windswept roof was one of his favorite places, and he was sure he had coined the term the entire team used, now. But, tonight, he didn’t say it. He knew he didn’t have to.
He knew Brandon would come here. Looking for him, and for answers.
The only reason he managed to make it here at all was because he remembered the look on Bran’s face. Shock like that could not, would not have been faked. This was no camera shoot, no sound byte for the News at Eleven. This was reality, which Jake considered to be at a whole new level of suck at the present moment. Any other time, Brandon could have caught him. He was faster, stronger, hardier…perfect. While his own psychokinetic abilities were nothing to sneeze at, Jake knew, in an out-and-out fight, which one of them he believed would win.
He tugged at the half-mask covering his nose and mouth, dark-blue and heavily padded. The mask was normally used by skiers to protect their face from the cold, but Jake was one of the few Dawn Children to use something to hide his features, for his own reasons. The world knew of Poltergeist, not of Jake, and he preferred that way. One more mask to add to the stack, protecting his identity, his self. The half-mask for the face, combined with the dark-blue bandanna tied around his head, left only his eyes showing to the world. The eyes themselves were a plain brown to his estimation, the same color as the hair he kept tucked under the bandanna.
That’s how he hid from the world. Not like Brandon. Paragon was one of the first to go public, and he never wore a mask. And, not for the first time, Jake felt the green feeling well up inside his chest at the thought. Paragon…Brandon was just that. Open to the world, nothing to hide, a smile at every turn. Jake’s smile, he knew, was just one of a hundred thousand others, seen and forgotten in the space of a second.
He’d come, Jake knew. It was in his nature.
The wind, swirling into life on an early February night, pushed against Jake as he leaned forward against the roof’s edge, brushing against his ears in gusts, as if saying ‘Don’t.’ He wouldn’t. At the end of the day, he would live. And the next day, and the next, until the last hour or so of his life thus far faded into the smoky dream most memories became with the passage of time. His fingers, not gloved this time, traces the white grainy smears against the pale granite of the roof ledge. Keith’s doing, Jake thought. Keith liked to run his clawed fingers along the edge while he was deep in thought, or imagining something, or just when he was bored. And, for someone who was seemingly adopting more and more cat-like qualities weekly, boredom was almost a constant state of mind for Keith, or Stray, as the people called him. Who knew when he made these claw marks. It wasn’t now, since Keith was nowhere in sight.
“I knew you’d be here,” came the voice. It was baritone, each word practiced, strong: chocolate to the ears.
Jake didn’t dare turn around just yet. If his eyes met those baby blues, his words, his control, his Self…would fail him. In small ways, over the months since the Dawn, it always did when their presences met. But, that’s why they had masks, after all. Some of them did. He did come, like Jake knew he would, and Jake instantly wished he hadn’t. In his head, he wished him away.
Ok, that's all I could do so far. Tell me what you think.
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Date: 2003-01-20 12:20 pm (UTC)