meridian_rose (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
meridian_rose) wrote2012-01-10 02:21 pm
meridian_rose) wrote2012-01-10 02:21 pm
Artists Date challenge and Fic: A Sort of Proof
Prompt: For the ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
writerverse challenge, artist's date. Take yourself on a thirty minute date and write about it, and any creative work inspired by the date.
Title: Artist Date
When: 09/01/2012
Description: A favourite walk by a local river
Rating: G
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con/RPF etc): None
I took myself on one of my favourite dates; a local walk to a nearby river. In autumn there are blackberries, in summer tall grasses and wild flowers, in spring crocuses, in winter the bare branched trees stand amongst evergreens and bushes. I often see a heron, a wonderful sight, but even if that magnificent bird isn't around there plenty of squirrels, crows, pigeons, and rabbits who scurry off at my approach, their white tails bobbing as they throw themselves into the safety of the undergrowth. I saw just one little bunny on this walk.
The recent wet weather made it rather more muddy than I would have liked, but the overall serenity the place gives me always makes it worth my time carefully picking my way along the grassy paths. Sometimes I'm seeking a spiritual journey, or am actively examining my surroundings, noting the flora and fauna as I go. But other times, like this date, I just enjoy the walk and let my mind run free. Sometimes I come up with new plot twists, maybe resolve something I've been struggling with. Usually I imagine dialogue for stories that will probably never been written. I play the characters' voices out in my head. Often the characters are out walking too, in my head, though that might not be the case if I do write it down.
Sometimes the dialogue will be useful 'as is' or sometimes it just teaches me something new about the characters and their situation. I think this date's musing was a bit of both – there was some stuff I left out because it needs to happen later. I was expecting The High Queen to be uppermost in my mind but the muse had other ideas. Here's a snippet from another verse, Blue Skies, and most of the dialogue here and the central plot elements came about on this 'date'.
Title: A Sort of Proof
Fandom: Original fic
'Verse/Series: Blue Skies, Tamara
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 941
Prompt: For the writerverse's artists date challenge
Summary: A short stop and a minor demonstration of Tamara's gift
Warnings: None
Notes: this a UK-based fic and I make no apologies for the British terminology, although I'm happy to clarify any terms you're unfamiliar with :D
The first part, Nothing But Blue Skies hints at Tamara's psychic abilities and her strained relationship with the mentioned Miles. This part takes place sometime later when she's accompanying Jake, for various reasons, to somewhere far from her home.
This is admittedly a little raw, not least because I haven't decided exactly where they're travelling to, but I can always edit in the details later.
"How's the coffee?"
Tamara shrugged. "Pretty good. But I'm not that picky."
A heavy goods vehicle pulled past the grassy embankment, brakes huffing and puffing as it made the tight turn onto the sliproad leading to the motorway.
"Not the nicest place for a picnic," Jake commented.
"I like service stations," Tamara said seriously. "And rail stations. They're about going somewhere. They bring back memories of family holidays and visiting friends."
He sipped his own coffee, wondering if he ought to pry as to why the holidays and visits seemed to be a thing of the past. He didn't want to spook her, though.
"Well," he said at last. "We should get going, then." He tossed his empty cup at the nearby bin and missed. He gave her an embarrassed smile and went to retrieve the cup and throw it directly into the receptacle.
Tamara had a faraway look in her eyes when he wandered back over to her, hands in his pockets.
"I'd like another coffee first," she said.
"Really?" Clearly she wasn't picky. The coffee was mediocre at best. In fact, she hadn't even finished her first one, but hell, she'd come with him on nothing more than a vague promise of money and a desperate plea. If she wanted him to ply her with coffee and doughnuts or a steak dinner at every service station on the motorway, that was fine with him. "I'll go fetch you one. You all right here?"
She nodded and sat down on the grass by the wooden fence. Another family had taken the picnic table now – their dog was piddling up a nearby sapling with a look of utter glee on its face.
When Jake returned with the coffee, Tamara took it with a smile, pulling off the lid and blowing on it. She didn't like her drinks too hot, he remembered. He ought to have risked a spill and left the lid off so it would have been cooling on the way back. She was watching the family. The dog, a Labrador-cross of some sort, if he was any judge, was running around in circles, occasionally stopping to dart back to his people and nudge one of the women with his nose before dashing back off again.
"You like dogs?"
Tamara nodded. "But Miles thinks they're a nuisance. Needy and dirty and bothersome."
Jake was rather beginning to hate Miles. Everything she said came down to 'Miles doesn't like' or 'Miles told me not to' or 'Miles said that I ought to'. In his opinion Miles was a miserable git.
She took a few sips of her coffee and he checked his watch, more out of habit than needing to worry over the time.
"I just need to pee before we go," Tamara said. She held out the cardboard cup. "Do you want any more coffee?"
He shook his head. Tamara threw the half-full cup away and stalked off towards the main building. There hadn't been too much of a queue at the toilets when he'd gone to the café but he'd seen a coach just pulling up so this could take a while. He sighed and watched the adults from the picnic table load the dog and the kids and the picnic stuff back into their car. Sirens sounded in the distance and the dog pressed its wet nose to the back window in curiosity.
Tamara came back, finally and he walked towards her, motioning to the car so she didn’t walk past it and have to backtrack.
He fiddled with the radio while Tamara stowed her coat on the backseat and then climbed in, putting her handbag between her feet and locking the door. She pulled her seatbelt on as he froze, one hand on the radio dial. The traffic report was on and reporting a serious accident on the motorway.
She licked her lips nervously as he stared at her.
"Major incident?" He remembered the sirens and his blood ran cold. "At the next junction."
"Lucky we stopped here. We can go in the opposite direction from these services, maybe go around." Tamara looked around. "Do you have a road atlas?"
"In the glovebox. But I've got the GPS," he pointed out.
"I like an atlas for planning a route," she said, pulling the glovebox open. She pulled out the large, squashed book and gave him a look that said there was a special hell for people who mistreated books, even ancient road atlases.
"Tamara –" He hesitated as she stared intently at the pages, one finger tracing the motorway to find their current location. "Did you know that was going to happen?"
She shrugged, refusing to meet his gaze. "No. Maybe. I didn't want to leave."
"Why?"
"A feeling."
It wasn't proof, not that he'd demanded any of her, but still. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Believing she was physic or precognitive or whatever, that was one thing. Actually seeing some minor demonstration of it was quite another.
"Here, back two junctions would be better, there's an A-road goes straight down to there, otherwise we'll be stuck on all these B-roads." He watched her finger move along the page, trying to pay attention.
"I could just put in the postcode of where we're going and force the GPS to find alternate routes," he said.
"Yes, that's fine, but make sure you go the way I told you," she said.
"Or it'll be the B-roads, I heard." Jake began programming the GPS, knowing he was damn well going to listen to Tamara's advice. Who knew what might happen if he didn't.
writerverse challenge, artist's date. Take yourself on a thirty minute date and write about it, and any creative work inspired by the date.Title: Artist Date
When: 09/01/2012
Description: A favourite walk by a local river
Rating: G
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con/RPF etc): None
I took myself on one of my favourite dates; a local walk to a nearby river. In autumn there are blackberries, in summer tall grasses and wild flowers, in spring crocuses, in winter the bare branched trees stand amongst evergreens and bushes. I often see a heron, a wonderful sight, but even if that magnificent bird isn't around there plenty of squirrels, crows, pigeons, and rabbits who scurry off at my approach, their white tails bobbing as they throw themselves into the safety of the undergrowth. I saw just one little bunny on this walk.
The recent wet weather made it rather more muddy than I would have liked, but the overall serenity the place gives me always makes it worth my time carefully picking my way along the grassy paths. Sometimes I'm seeking a spiritual journey, or am actively examining my surroundings, noting the flora and fauna as I go. But other times, like this date, I just enjoy the walk and let my mind run free. Sometimes I come up with new plot twists, maybe resolve something I've been struggling with. Usually I imagine dialogue for stories that will probably never been written. I play the characters' voices out in my head. Often the characters are out walking too, in my head, though that might not be the case if I do write it down.
Sometimes the dialogue will be useful 'as is' or sometimes it just teaches me something new about the characters and their situation. I think this date's musing was a bit of both – there was some stuff I left out because it needs to happen later. I was expecting The High Queen to be uppermost in my mind but the muse had other ideas. Here's a snippet from another verse, Blue Skies, and most of the dialogue here and the central plot elements came about on this 'date'.
Title: A Sort of Proof
Fandom: Original fic
'Verse/Series: Blue Skies, Tamara
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 941
Prompt: For the writerverse's artists date challenge
Summary: A short stop and a minor demonstration of Tamara's gift
Warnings: None
Notes: this a UK-based fic and I make no apologies for the British terminology, although I'm happy to clarify any terms you're unfamiliar with :D
The first part, Nothing But Blue Skies hints at Tamara's psychic abilities and her strained relationship with the mentioned Miles. This part takes place sometime later when she's accompanying Jake, for various reasons, to somewhere far from her home.
This is admittedly a little raw, not least because I haven't decided exactly where they're travelling to, but I can always edit in the details later.
"How's the coffee?"
Tamara shrugged. "Pretty good. But I'm not that picky."
A heavy goods vehicle pulled past the grassy embankment, brakes huffing and puffing as it made the tight turn onto the sliproad leading to the motorway.
"Not the nicest place for a picnic," Jake commented.
"I like service stations," Tamara said seriously. "And rail stations. They're about going somewhere. They bring back memories of family holidays and visiting friends."
He sipped his own coffee, wondering if he ought to pry as to why the holidays and visits seemed to be a thing of the past. He didn't want to spook her, though.
"Well," he said at last. "We should get going, then." He tossed his empty cup at the nearby bin and missed. He gave her an embarrassed smile and went to retrieve the cup and throw it directly into the receptacle.
Tamara had a faraway look in her eyes when he wandered back over to her, hands in his pockets.
"I'd like another coffee first," she said.
"Really?" Clearly she wasn't picky. The coffee was mediocre at best. In fact, she hadn't even finished her first one, but hell, she'd come with him on nothing more than a vague promise of money and a desperate plea. If she wanted him to ply her with coffee and doughnuts or a steak dinner at every service station on the motorway, that was fine with him. "I'll go fetch you one. You all right here?"
She nodded and sat down on the grass by the wooden fence. Another family had taken the picnic table now – their dog was piddling up a nearby sapling with a look of utter glee on its face.
When Jake returned with the coffee, Tamara took it with a smile, pulling off the lid and blowing on it. She didn't like her drinks too hot, he remembered. He ought to have risked a spill and left the lid off so it would have been cooling on the way back. She was watching the family. The dog, a Labrador-cross of some sort, if he was any judge, was running around in circles, occasionally stopping to dart back to his people and nudge one of the women with his nose before dashing back off again.
"You like dogs?"
Tamara nodded. "But Miles thinks they're a nuisance. Needy and dirty and bothersome."
Jake was rather beginning to hate Miles. Everything she said came down to 'Miles doesn't like' or 'Miles told me not to' or 'Miles said that I ought to'. In his opinion Miles was a miserable git.
She took a few sips of her coffee and he checked his watch, more out of habit than needing to worry over the time.
"I just need to pee before we go," Tamara said. She held out the cardboard cup. "Do you want any more coffee?"
He shook his head. Tamara threw the half-full cup away and stalked off towards the main building. There hadn't been too much of a queue at the toilets when he'd gone to the café but he'd seen a coach just pulling up so this could take a while. He sighed and watched the adults from the picnic table load the dog and the kids and the picnic stuff back into their car. Sirens sounded in the distance and the dog pressed its wet nose to the back window in curiosity.
Tamara came back, finally and he walked towards her, motioning to the car so she didn’t walk past it and have to backtrack.
He fiddled with the radio while Tamara stowed her coat on the backseat and then climbed in, putting her handbag between her feet and locking the door. She pulled her seatbelt on as he froze, one hand on the radio dial. The traffic report was on and reporting a serious accident on the motorway.
She licked her lips nervously as he stared at her.
"Major incident?" He remembered the sirens and his blood ran cold. "At the next junction."
"Lucky we stopped here. We can go in the opposite direction from these services, maybe go around." Tamara looked around. "Do you have a road atlas?"
"In the glovebox. But I've got the GPS," he pointed out.
"I like an atlas for planning a route," she said, pulling the glovebox open. She pulled out the large, squashed book and gave him a look that said there was a special hell for people who mistreated books, even ancient road atlases.
"Tamara –" He hesitated as she stared intently at the pages, one finger tracing the motorway to find their current location. "Did you know that was going to happen?"
She shrugged, refusing to meet his gaze. "No. Maybe. I didn't want to leave."
"Why?"
"A feeling."
It wasn't proof, not that he'd demanded any of her, but still. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Believing she was physic or precognitive or whatever, that was one thing. Actually seeing some minor demonstration of it was quite another.
"Here, back two junctions would be better, there's an A-road goes straight down to there, otherwise we'll be stuck on all these B-roads." He watched her finger move along the page, trying to pay attention.
"I could just put in the postcode of where we're going and force the GPS to find alternate routes," he said.
"Yes, that's fine, but make sure you go the way I told you," she said.
"Or it'll be the B-roads, I heard." Jake began programming the GPS, knowing he was damn well going to listen to Tamara's advice. Who knew what might happen if he didn't.