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Sep. 17th, 2004 09:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bodldopsA bit of Mouse-dabbling... and other-character drabbling. I've got way too many incompatable storylines bouncing around in my head right now. Of course, I wrote four pages of Mouse story, and then managed to get it deleted. Ah well, the first draft's always trash, right? This is trash, too, but Word is acting funny, and... I love sharing Mouse. He's my favoritest ranger. Mostly 'cause he's mine... here's hoping he never turns into a Stu, neccessitating his destruction.
The lanky, dark-haired youth smiled as he began to wake up. The sun was shining, he could hear birds singing, he was warm...
He was warm?
Abruptly he sat bolt upright, staring around the small room he was in, hazily attempting to make memory and reality fit together in some reasonable sort of fashion. He was in a bed, for one thing. It was a nice bed, considering. The linens looked passably clean and sinfully fluffy, and he frame was sturdy, if purely functional. This was not, however, a ranger bed. Rangers slept on cloaks, or under them, with a handy rock or an even handier pack as a pillow, not... he turned and poked the pillow behind him. Not feather-filled pillows with soft wool coverings.
Expanding his observational scope a bit, he realized that there was a banked fire in a hearth in the wall opposite. Well, if that didn't beat all. A fire, a real, hot, light-shedding fire. That was almost more rare than real beds. Fire attracted the things that went bump in the night. They frequently went bump in the daytime too, but one tried not to think about that unless forced to.
"Mouse!" a vaguely familiar voice called from outside the room. Just outside the room, if the boy was any judge. Almost as if... the door rattled as someone thumped on it, or perhaps kicked it.
"Mouse! Is this any way to treat your elder and better?" Oh yes, he knew that voice. That was Arasfaron, his 'mentor' and somewhat older training partner. Faron (no one dared call him Aras; and the whole name, though deliberately thought out by well-meaning parents, did not lend itself to common usage) was a ranger, like he was. Cautiously, and more than a bit reluctantly, the boy slipped out of bed and moved to the door, unlatching it and opening it a crack.
"Far..."
"Hush!" The older youth shoved the door open and scooted inside, carefully balancing a fully loaded tray of bread, something steaming in two bowls, and two heavy and hopefully filled mugs.
I think I like that bit better than the first draft. I just need to make it longer. And make it end up where I want it. This new kid keeps wanting to do stupid things... Crazy rangers.
"Mrs. Karjenko?" Robin was getting tired of this. Every single week they went through this trite song and dance. She knew the mousey woman was hiding somewhere in the house, hoping the world would just go away. God help her if the FOH ever found her. They tended to not go away, and did so with a creative violence not often seen.
"Mrs. Karjenko... I'm going to come in now. It's just me, Robin Halaway from the Department of Child Services. Remember me? I came by last month to check on Henry." Cautiously she unlocked the front door with the key she had convinced Mrs Karjenko to give her last time, and stepped inside the aging Victorian two-story house.
Heh, Robin doesn't seem to know what she wants to be. One day, it's a fairly innocuous sort of mutant who can get by in society, other days, a complete outcast. Bother muses anyway.
The lanky, dark-haired youth smiled as he began to wake up. The sun was shining, he could hear birds singing, he was warm...
He was warm?
Abruptly he sat bolt upright, staring around the small room he was in, hazily attempting to make memory and reality fit together in some reasonable sort of fashion. He was in a bed, for one thing. It was a nice bed, considering. The linens looked passably clean and sinfully fluffy, and he frame was sturdy, if purely functional. This was not, however, a ranger bed. Rangers slept on cloaks, or under them, with a handy rock or an even handier pack as a pillow, not... he turned and poked the pillow behind him. Not feather-filled pillows with soft wool coverings.
Expanding his observational scope a bit, he realized that there was a banked fire in a hearth in the wall opposite. Well, if that didn't beat all. A fire, a real, hot, light-shedding fire. That was almost more rare than real beds. Fire attracted the things that went bump in the night. They frequently went bump in the daytime too, but one tried not to think about that unless forced to.
"Mouse!" a vaguely familiar voice called from outside the room. Just outside the room, if the boy was any judge. Almost as if... the door rattled as someone thumped on it, or perhaps kicked it.
"Mouse! Is this any way to treat your elder and better?" Oh yes, he knew that voice. That was Arasfaron, his 'mentor' and somewhat older training partner. Faron (no one dared call him Aras; and the whole name, though deliberately thought out by well-meaning parents, did not lend itself to common usage) was a ranger, like he was. Cautiously, and more than a bit reluctantly, the boy slipped out of bed and moved to the door, unlatching it and opening it a crack.
"Far..."
"Hush!" The older youth shoved the door open and scooted inside, carefully balancing a fully loaded tray of bread, something steaming in two bowls, and two heavy and hopefully filled mugs.
I think I like that bit better than the first draft. I just need to make it longer. And make it end up where I want it. This new kid keeps wanting to do stupid things... Crazy rangers.
"Mrs. Karjenko?" Robin was getting tired of this. Every single week they went through this trite song and dance. She knew the mousey woman was hiding somewhere in the house, hoping the world would just go away. God help her if the FOH ever found her. They tended to not go away, and did so with a creative violence not often seen.
"Mrs. Karjenko... I'm going to come in now. It's just me, Robin Halaway from the Department of Child Services. Remember me? I came by last month to check on Henry." Cautiously she unlocked the front door with the key she had convinced Mrs Karjenko to give her last time, and stepped inside the aging Victorian two-story house.
Heh, Robin doesn't seem to know what she wants to be. One day, it's a fairly innocuous sort of mutant who can get by in society, other days, a complete outcast. Bother muses anyway.
