Voices from Heaven (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thespaceopera) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2015-10-20 10:06 am
thespaceopera) wrote in driftfleet2015-10-20 10:06 am
Entry tags:
Sweet dreams are made of these...
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no subject
he doesn't linger, though. he looks at the man, glancing briefly at the back of the head of one of the figures in the room--trying to see if they're the same, as much as he can.]
Ah, that's... [he looks at the locket again, and then finally up at Abigail's smiling face. he's still holding her just as he has been.] I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious, but I think I should give you something in return.
no subject
[Abigail gives Robin a chastising look, leaning in to boop his nose in a disciplinary way.]
That's not how friends work, you know. I learned about this. Friends do things for each other just because, and don't need anything in return.
If you want to give me something, then I want to have it. But you don't have to.
no subject
[and what else is there to say to that? he's surprised, having this explained to him. and then having to think about it--because it makes sense, he's heard people say that, but he sure doesn't follow it or believe it himself. he's a very selfish creature, there's almost nothing he does that doesn't get him something in return.
then again, he also doesn't have many friends.
so he thinks about it for a moment, trying to decide if he's all right with all of that--and admittedly reeling with the thought of her doing all of this for him but turning down an equivalent exchange...]
... Okay, I've changed my mind. I want to ask you a question.
[he lifts his hand... so he can boop her on the nose with his finger. smiling.]
But I'm going to wait, I might find my answer if we keep going.
no subject
[She wrinkles her nose when he boops it. Boop!]
Just make sure you remember it, in case I don't give you the answer. And--
[Lifting up the locket that hangs around his neck, she waggles it in his face.]
Open or shut?
no subject
Open, open. Absolutely.
no subject
[And she begins trying to pry it open. Which turns out to be a lot harder than expected. She tries to open it with her fingernails in the groove first, which culminates in her needing to suck on her thumb to soothe the soreness of her nail away. Then she tries to bite it open, which does nothing. Then she whacks Robin on the shoulder with it, mostly because she's just frustrated.]
[In the end, she hits on the possibility of wedging the seam of the locket against the tine of the rack of antlers above them. It pops open in a second, and she frowns at it like it's an incorrigible child before pulling it back towards them, holding it open so Robin can see what's on the inside.]
[As it turns out, it's a picture of a girl who looks a lot like Abigail, but not exactly the same. Abigail's in the picture, too, but her smile isn't as wide and her eyes aren't as sharp, and in the picture she's got both ears and a scarless neck.]
[The memory that follows comes upon them like waves lapping softly on a tropical beach; there's none of the inherent violence of the first set, just two girls on a brisk autumn day, wrapped in coats and scarves, talking in the leaves. One is nervous, one is confident but wary. No points for guessing which is which.]
"Did you talk to the news?"
"No. No! My mom doesn’t want me talking to you, much less the news."
"Since when do you listen to her?"
"Well, clearly I don’t. I’m talking to you right now. Everybody thinks you did it, you know?"
"So you think I did it?"
"I don’t think you’re the type. Then again, I didn’t think your father was the murder-suicide type. Although I guess the hunting could have been a clue."
"Mine or his?"
"Both, now that you mention it. . . . I don’t think you did it."
[And the memory fades, leaving Abigail with her head nestled lightly against Robin's shoulder.]
no subject
[which absolutely makes sense. about as much sense as the locket being tricky and stubborn. he'd thought that by "I can open it", she meant "it opens by my command" and not "I can probably wedge it open if I chew on it for long enough."
but when it finally opens, he gets a soft memory and not the churning madness from before. he watches the both of them talk with the same sort of patient attention, but it doesn't take nearly as much thought to process.
so he's less absorbed in it when he comes back this time. it's calmer for everyone.]
That was nice... [a comment, but not commentary.] A friend?