30 days of writing: Day 4
May. 22nd, 2016 02:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kawuliusing the prompts below, write a drabble (or whatever) a day for the next 30 days. find someone willing to hit you if you miss a day. look back at the end and go ‘oh! i’m a writer!’.
beginning. accusation. restless. snowflake. haze. flame. formal. companion. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. denial. wind. order. thanks. look. summer. transformation. tremble. sunset. mad. thousand. outside. winter. diamond. letters. promise. simple. future.
Early in the post-war Rokia-at-Lyme's period.
--
Their first cold, snowy day, Rokia heads out to the garage early, before Lyme’s awake. Comes in later, wraps blue-tinged fingers around a cup of tea, curls next to the radiator with a blanket pulled close around her.
She’s starting to get back up, setting down her mug, unwrapping herself, when Lyme snaps. “Sit your ass back down,” she says, grabbing the mug off the floor, heading toward the kitchen to refill it. “There’s nothing out there that can’t wait ‘till it’s warmer.”
The kid’s still standing, glaring, when Lyme comes back. But Rokia takes the mug, her fingers still icy when they brush Lyme’s. A moment’s hesitation, and she sits, folding herself small and pulling the blanket back around her shoulders.
She buries her nose in the steam from the tea and won’t meet Lyme’s eyes.
beginning. accusation. restless. snowflake. haze. flame. formal. companion. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. denial. wind. order. thanks. look. summer. transformation. tremble. sunset. mad. thousand. outside. winter. diamond. letters. promise. simple. future.
Early in the post-war Rokia-at-Lyme's period.
--
Their first cold, snowy day, Rokia heads out to the garage early, before Lyme’s awake. Comes in later, wraps blue-tinged fingers around a cup of tea, curls next to the radiator with a blanket pulled close around her.
She’s starting to get back up, setting down her mug, unwrapping herself, when Lyme snaps. “Sit your ass back down,” she says, grabbing the mug off the floor, heading toward the kitchen to refill it. “There’s nothing out there that can’t wait ‘till it’s warmer.”
The kid’s still standing, glaring, when Lyme comes back. But Rokia takes the mug, her fingers still icy when they brush Lyme’s. A moment’s hesitation, and she sits, folding herself small and pulling the blanket back around her shoulders.
She buries her nose in the steam from the tea and won’t meet Lyme’s eyes.
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Date: 2016-05-22 12:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-05-22 12:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-05-24 05:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-05-22 03:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-05-22 03:27 pm (UTC)Lyme is extremely unimpressed with this logic.