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southofreality2012-03-28 11:00 pm
koyuki) wrote in southofreality2012-03-28 11:00 pm
Entry tags:
a deeply unfulfilling writing exercise (Leaf+Silver, WIP)
untitled | Leaf + Silver | war!au vignette WIP
outstretched said I should do a writing exercise to get it out. Instead I'm grumpy because I got two scenes out. Last of three planned vignettes
Leaf finds him in the field, his red hair blending in with red, wilting late-spring flowers and dark, dried blood caked on his hair.
A Johto combat uniform, she notes as she rushes over to him, and three PokeBalls attached to his side. She knees and checks for his pulse – alive.
Leaf wonders what she would’ve had to do half a year ago, a month ago, even. Would she be able to get him back to the base and take care of him then? Would she have had to hide him and sneak out supplies when she could?
Instead, she calls four field medics and have them help her move the soldier back to the medical compound.
There’s no need for that anymore, she reminds herself. The war is over.
When the soldier opens his eyes, they’re just as bloody red as his hair – just as red as his eyes, and Leaf can’t wonder if this boy will be her nameless soldier, her downfall.
You’re finally awake, she says, smiling, and checks his vital signs and bandages. You’ve been out for a week now. Well, since we found you anyway. Not sure about before then.
The soldier stares at her with a blank expression. Not relieved. Not angry or sad or confused or worried or anything.
He’s shell-shocked, Leaf reminds herself, instead of letting herself be unnerved. She’s cared for scarier people. She’s faced down scarier people. (But she wonders if this is how he’d felt, then.)
She says, You’re safe now. The war’s over.
The soldier looks down at his hands, and curls them lightly into fists.
Leaf sighs. You should eat. I’ll get something for you.
Just as she’s about to stand up, he moves and grabs her wrist. Leaf has to choke down her shock.
The war’s never going to be over, the soldier says. Not for me anyway.
Leaf purses her lips. What a cliché thing to say, she thinks. Well, it is. She tugs her hand out of his grasp. So you better get used to it.
outstretched said I should do a writing exercise to get it out. Instead I'm grumpy because I got two scenes out. Last of three planned vignettesLeaf finds him in the field, his red hair blending in with red, wilting late-spring flowers and dark, dried blood caked on his hair.
A Johto combat uniform, she notes as she rushes over to him, and three PokeBalls attached to his side. She knees and checks for his pulse – alive.
Leaf wonders what she would’ve had to do half a year ago, a month ago, even. Would she be able to get him back to the base and take care of him then? Would she have had to hide him and sneak out supplies when she could?
Instead, she calls four field medics and have them help her move the soldier back to the medical compound.
There’s no need for that anymore, she reminds herself. The war is over.
When the soldier opens his eyes, they’re just as bloody red as his hair – just as red as his eyes, and Leaf can’t wonder if this boy will be her nameless soldier, her downfall.
You’re finally awake, she says, smiling, and checks his vital signs and bandages. You’ve been out for a week now. Well, since we found you anyway. Not sure about before then.
The soldier stares at her with a blank expression. Not relieved. Not angry or sad or confused or worried or anything.
He’s shell-shocked, Leaf reminds herself, instead of letting herself be unnerved. She’s cared for scarier people. She’s faced down scarier people. (But she wonders if this is how he’d felt, then.)
She says, You’re safe now. The war’s over.
The soldier looks down at his hands, and curls them lightly into fists.
Leaf sighs. You should eat. I’ll get something for you.
Just as she’s about to stand up, he moves and grabs her wrist. Leaf has to choke down her shock.
The war’s never going to be over, the soldier says. Not for me anyway.
Leaf purses her lips. What a cliché thing to say, she thinks. Well, it is. She tugs her hand out of his grasp. So you better get used to it.