Kieran gave a secret half smile at that and touched Mark’s hair lightly. Mark closed his eyes. It had been years since anyone had touched him, and the feeling sent shivers down through his body despite the pain of the cuts.
After that, when they rode out, they rode out together. Kieran made of the Hunt an adventure for the two of them. He showed Mark wonders that only the Fair Folk knew of: sheets of ice lying silent and silver under moonlight, and hidden glens, blooming with night flowers. They rode among the spray of waterfalls and amid the towers of clouds. And Mark was, if not happy, no longer tortured by loneliness.
Once Fai found out that they had some time to kill, he wasted no time in cheerfully traversing the length of the market. There was a lot to see, and much activity, and all the noise and people buying and selling their interesting things made for a lively atmosphere. He bought some jam scones to nibble, and then spent some time walking, soaking it all in.
Eventually, Fai got a little tired, even with how peaceful it was. He’d lost the others in the group, though he could see Mokona hanging out above the crowd, and though he was sure they were nearby and fine, he wished that he had at least one of them to spend the day with. Things were always a little more pleasant with Syaoran-kun, or joyful with Princess Sakura, or even fun tinged with mischief with Kuro-tan. By himself, Fai was just… well, there was too much to think about when he was alone.
Pasting a dim smile on, and licking his fingers from the jam, Fai wandered along the pathways, away from the crowd, towards the noise of a stream. There was an artificial water system through the block the town was set on, and the market had stalls on both sides of the pond and bridges to cross the tiny waterfalls. There were overhanging trees and lush grass lawns with benches for the market-goers. Ducks and other fowls wandered by clucking or quacking, and Fai found himself in a little glen, somewhat hidden by a tall flowering bush, and some cattails.
Finding the spot nice enough, and pondering that perhaps he did want to be alone, since this was where his feet had taken him, Fai settled down on the grass, his smile a little more real, and his shoulders loose. It was nice back here, and there was no one to pretend for.
“Mow,” said something from behind him, and Fai twisted to see a pair of yellow eyes blinking at him from the dim under the nearest bush. Fai could make out an impossibly small shape. “Moww.”
Fai turned and kneeled to better see a tiny kitten, huddled under the leaves.
“Ohh, you are cute,” Fai murmured, holding out a hand. “Cht cht,” he clicked his tongue, wondering if the animal was too afraid to emerge. But, this little one was happy to escape the nasty bush, creeping out, and ‘mow’ing again at him. The little face was scrunched up, in an almost ugly sort of way, but it really combined with its big green eyes to make an adorable, disgruntled face. It was entirely black, and Fai immediately thought of the perfect name.
“I shall call you Kuro-kitty,” he said, holding out his hand, and letting the creature sniff it suspiciously. Then, with another ‘mow’, it butted Fai’s hand with its head, and let him scratch almost too big ears. “Aww,” Fai laughed.
Gently, he stroked it, and then when it felt right, lifted it up, and quickly checking its under tail bit. “Ah, Kuro-kitty is a little girl. Well, aren’t you the sweetest?” Fai cooed, rubbing the kitty’s tummy. She waved barely there claws around, snagging on one of his fingers, and Fai chuckled.
“Yup, I named you well.”
He played with the little girl for a while, waving a long grass stem for her to chase, and cuddling her when she got tired. Her fur was soft, and healthy, and she had a nice roly-poly belly, so Fai assumed she wasn’t a stray. She wasn’t very old, but there was also no collar. So, perhaps a house kitten that had gotten out?
Once she had settled down, curled in a ball on his lap, Fai let himself stare at the glitter of the sun on the water, while he stroked her. It was a peaceful day. Fai didn’t know where the others were, but he assumed they were fine. There had been no disturbances at all in the market block, and Fai could still hear the pleasant hubbub as the sun lowered. They’d have to go find their ride soon, he supposed. Still, this was nice, sitting cross-legged on the grass in the shade, with a kitten for company. With the fur under his fingers, his mind was pleasantly empty, and he hummed gently, in tune with little kitten snores.
I wish I were not more than this, a written pulse, a hushed whisper of
thought, braced against the great nothing. For what am I but an
elaborate case for my consciousness?
I’m not satisfied rummaging through the traces - the evidence of
occurrences that transpired while my eyes were closed dreaming of chances, all of which proved untenable within the ruthless rush of
To I submerged, you speak of drowning while floating on the
surface and all I can do is stare up from the bottom in
I want to go where pianos travel - somber, timeless, sonic fields. I lose my lost in union with strings struck by insurmountable melancholy.
I am peeling paint, ambient star drizzle, a hidden, rain-soaked, forest glen, secret moonbeams, songs long forgotten.
“Kieran gave a secret half smile at that and touched Mark’s hair lightly. Mark closed his eyes. It had been years since anyone had touched him, and the feeling sent shivers down through his body despite the pain of the cuts. After that, when they rode out, they rode out together. Kieran made of the Hunt an adventure for the two of them. He showed Mark wonders that only the Fair Folk knew of: sheets of ice lying silent and silver under moonlight, and hidden glens, blooming with night flowers.”
“The body in these photographs is thirty-seven years old - one that has been hiking freely and in tune with nature for at least half of those years. When I met Glen Canyon it was love at first sight - a place far from the inbred taboos of our society - closer to a dreamland than to reality. I have never posed as a model and am not doing so here… only doing what I always did in Glen Canyon - climbing, dancing, walking, touching, talking to the stone, swimming in the river, lying in the shallows, sliding down the falls, crawling through ruins, inching up crevasses, hanging from tree limbs, covering myself with mud, playing, singing, living with the canyon. I can always tell when a model is photographed in a place she’s never seen or experienced before; it’s in body language that can’t be hidden.”
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Watch the new trailer for #HiddenFigures, based on the incredible untold true story. Starring Taraji P. Henson, Octavia Spencer & Janelle Monáe. In theaters this January.
HIDDEN FIGURES is the incredible untold story of Katherine G. Johnson (Taraji P. Henson), Dorothy Vaughan (Octavia Spencer) and Mary Jackson (Janelle Monáe)—brilliant African-American women working at NASA, who served as the brains behind one of the greatest operations in history: the launch of astronaut John Glenn into orbit, a stunning achievement that restored the nation’s confidence, turned around the Space Race, and galvanized the world. The visionary trio crossed all gender and race lines to inspire generations to dream big.
In Theaters - January 13, 2017
Cast: Taraji P. Henson, Octavia Spencer, Janelle Monáe, Kevin Costner, Kirsten Dunst, Jim Parsons, Mahershala Ali, Aldis Hodge, and Glen Powell
sparklyslug said: if e/r isn’t TOO out of your system I’d love some kind of Robin Hood/Highwayman AU.
did you say robIN HOOD AU
Jehan misses his watch shift and isn’t back by nightfall. The camp is in an uproar. Courfeyrac volunteers to lead the search; Enjolras knows he will leave no stone unturned. Bahorel will go to seek out his contacts in the village, taking Feuilly. Enjolras orders that none are to enter the forest alone until Jehan is found.
By the fire, Combeferre is pacing, a stricken expression on his face. Normally he would be at the forefront of any recovery mission, but this disappearance has undone him. Grantaire sits on a nearby log, wineskin in hand, distracting Combeferre with a wild tale about nothing in particular. Enjolras is busy conferring with Courfeyrac’s team, their heads bent together. He feels a rush of gratitude for Grantaire, caught in the rare act of making himself useful.