In the night of matter
Mar. 20th, 2010 12:20 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
impersonaThis is really only good for more Roimata POV and a look at his personal philosophies. Woefully bare story, but I'm really not up for doing more XD HAPPY THAT I TRUDGED THROUGH THIS MUCH.
Series: Arcadia (near future)
Characters: Roimata, Vaness
"Well, well. Same bloody idea." Vaness said, the abruptness of her voice nearly startling Roimata from his reverie. She tread carefully over the skywalk, just as he had to sit carefully upon the gently domed surface. The top of the Gloriana wasn't a true 'roof' - a luxury liner even needed some protective to keep the deathly void of space separate from its tea parties.
"Clear night," he explained crisply. Roimata looked at her, narrowed his eyes slightly, as if he could figure out her purpose with just a stare. It didn't quite work.
"I see." She stared back at him, just as searching. Unamused, but a general sort of unamusement with life, and not a displeasure specifically directed at him. "So, what's your story?"
"Nothing," he said. Roimata thought, knew that would not satisfy as an answer, and then elaborated, "Fumes."
"Which ones?"
Good question. Pwyll's chemicals, the exhaust from Veles' mechanical misadventures, and the vapors he suspected Neve to be hitting that night. There never seemed to be enough floors between him and all of those smells. "I don't know," Roimata said. "All of them."
"You had your door locked," she said. Vaness gave him a side-long peer. "If you really wanted nothing to get into your personal space, next time, shove some towels under the door."
Roimata shifted his shoulders. "Well," he said, paused, and then never bothered to finish the implied thought. Instead, he turned Vaness' question back on her. "What's your story?"
"Hah. Nothing," she said, and continued to chew at her thumbnail. He thought better of being contrary when she was that obviously in a foul mood.
"Shouldn't have come out. Always annoys me at how they aren't in the right place." She flicked her thumb out, stared more thoroughly at the sky, then chewed her nail again.
"The stars?" Not as if there was much else to see from up here - there was a broken down city, or the expanse of stars. He wondered at what sorts of constellations she wished to see there instead. "That's a matter of perspective, I thought."
"Of course," she clipped, "but still. There's no romance in stars." The violence with which she flicked her thumb out from between her lips seemed nearly like an insulting gesture meant for the heavens. "Giant balls of gases, exploding on a regular basis. We don't know they are dead until centuries after."
"But I never thought there was romance in actual things," Roimata said. He belatedly realized that he was being contrary, then decided to just continue with it. "There is romance in adventure, and mystery. The unknown."
"Get Neve to sign her up on her pirate crew."
"I mean mundane mysteries. Visiting new worlds. Talking to new people. The forever-search for joy and love."
If you could sneak a scoff's meaning into a laugh, then she did. Roimata's knuckles and fingers tensed, and he wished to have some instrument with which to quell the suddenly restless emotion springing in his hands.
"I think there is romance in the world still," he replied, a little less than patiently, or gently.
"It's your job to dream like that."
"I'm not a fool for thinking so. People believe they understand everything about all of the pains, and worse, the pleasures of life. That there is nothing new to discover." He pressed his knuckles into the steel beside him, didn't notice the whole of his body tense. "That the known isn't worth discovering individually. They stop looking. They don't even try to take a step out of their own lives."
She flicked him in the back of the head.
"What?"
"You're getting smart."
He glared at her.
"Sassy, I mean." Still, Vaness flicked him again. "Don't forget that you're just a kid."
"I'm a kid as much as you are a windbag," he said, darkly. It had the opposite effect, because she ruffled his hair and she laughed a bit more genuinely. He frowned, crossed his arms, and stared more fixedly at the stars.
But Roimata came out for the stars, and did not take long for him to remember the solace he found in them, a solace sweeter than any vapour he knew of. And in that rolling, soothing way that the river of stars have, in time, he forgot that he got worked up at all.
Series: Arcadia (near future)
Characters: Roimata, Vaness
"Well, well. Same bloody idea." Vaness said, the abruptness of her voice nearly startling Roimata from his reverie. She tread carefully over the skywalk, just as he had to sit carefully upon the gently domed surface. The top of the Gloriana wasn't a true 'roof' - a luxury liner even needed some protective to keep the deathly void of space separate from its tea parties.
"Clear night," he explained crisply. Roimata looked at her, narrowed his eyes slightly, as if he could figure out her purpose with just a stare. It didn't quite work.
"I see." She stared back at him, just as searching. Unamused, but a general sort of unamusement with life, and not a displeasure specifically directed at him. "So, what's your story?"
"Nothing," he said. Roimata thought, knew that would not satisfy as an answer, and then elaborated, "Fumes."
"Which ones?"
Good question. Pwyll's chemicals, the exhaust from Veles' mechanical misadventures, and the vapors he suspected Neve to be hitting that night. There never seemed to be enough floors between him and all of those smells. "I don't know," Roimata said. "All of them."
"You had your door locked," she said. Vaness gave him a side-long peer. "If you really wanted nothing to get into your personal space, next time, shove some towels under the door."
Roimata shifted his shoulders. "Well," he said, paused, and then never bothered to finish the implied thought. Instead, he turned Vaness' question back on her. "What's your story?"
"Hah. Nothing," she said, and continued to chew at her thumbnail. He thought better of being contrary when she was that obviously in a foul mood.
"Shouldn't have come out. Always annoys me at how they aren't in the right place." She flicked her thumb out, stared more thoroughly at the sky, then chewed her nail again.
"The stars?" Not as if there was much else to see from up here - there was a broken down city, or the expanse of stars. He wondered at what sorts of constellations she wished to see there instead. "That's a matter of perspective, I thought."
"Of course," she clipped, "but still. There's no romance in stars." The violence with which she flicked her thumb out from between her lips seemed nearly like an insulting gesture meant for the heavens. "Giant balls of gases, exploding on a regular basis. We don't know they are dead until centuries after."
"But I never thought there was romance in actual things," Roimata said. He belatedly realized that he was being contrary, then decided to just continue with it. "There is romance in adventure, and mystery. The unknown."
"Get Neve to sign her up on her pirate crew."
"I mean mundane mysteries. Visiting new worlds. Talking to new people. The forever-search for joy and love."
If you could sneak a scoff's meaning into a laugh, then she did. Roimata's knuckles and fingers tensed, and he wished to have some instrument with which to quell the suddenly restless emotion springing in his hands.
"I think there is romance in the world still," he replied, a little less than patiently, or gently.
"It's your job to dream like that."
"I'm not a fool for thinking so. People believe they understand everything about all of the pains, and worse, the pleasures of life. That there is nothing new to discover." He pressed his knuckles into the steel beside him, didn't notice the whole of his body tense. "That the known isn't worth discovering individually. They stop looking. They don't even try to take a step out of their own lives."
She flicked him in the back of the head.
"What?"
"You're getting smart."
He glared at her.
"Sassy, I mean." Still, Vaness flicked him again. "Don't forget that you're just a kid."
"I'm a kid as much as you are a windbag," he said, darkly. It had the opposite effect, because she ruffled his hair and she laughed a bit more genuinely. He frowned, crossed his arms, and stared more fixedly at the stars.
But Roimata came out for the stars, and did not take long for him to remember the solace he found in them, a solace sweeter than any vapour he knew of. And in that rolling, soothing way that the river of stars have, in time, he forgot that he got worked up at all.
