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no_true_pairTitle: Changing Seasons.
Author/Artist: Sententia.
Fandom: The Summer of the Ubume.
Pairing/characters: Enokizu and Enokizu.
Rating: G
Warnings: None.
Prompt/challenge you're answering: 2 & 5, Autumn leaves all around.
Word count: 223.
Additional notes: The challenges where I get the same character for both numbers are oddly addicting!
When Enokizu is 15, he dances amongst the autumn leaves. Reds and yellows and rusty browns, the leaves are so bright and fragrant that Enokizu finds he can whirl beneath the draping branches of the trees for what seems like hours. This is a world that is his own, one of colours and shapes and a special sort of thereness that no-one else ever seems to believe in. Pretty girls and eager boys who don’t dare join in still like to watch on with laughter that is lighter than the air, and they spin their dreams around him as he spirals amongst the deep, rich colours.
When Enokizu is 30, he dances amongst the autumn leaves. Textured and fragile and sweet, a simply brush of his hand can bring them away from their branches and catch him in a brief, magical dance as they slowly float towards the iced ground. Mothers rush their children past and men look on with disapproval, but Enokizu cares much more for the crinkled heat of the leaves than this cold disdain. Sometimes there is laughter, but it is hard, vicious, and Enokizu sees in it strange shadows of things that are best not to be. Enokizu dances – dances alone – in a quiet soliloquy to a world that no longer finds beauty in that which it doesn’t understand.
Author/Artist: Sententia.
Fandom: The Summer of the Ubume.
Pairing/characters: Enokizu and Enokizu.
Rating: G
Warnings: None.
Prompt/challenge you're answering: 2 & 5, Autumn leaves all around.
Word count: 223.
Additional notes: The challenges where I get the same character for both numbers are oddly addicting!
When Enokizu is 15, he dances amongst the autumn leaves. Reds and yellows and rusty browns, the leaves are so bright and fragrant that Enokizu finds he can whirl beneath the draping branches of the trees for what seems like hours. This is a world that is his own, one of colours and shapes and a special sort of thereness that no-one else ever seems to believe in. Pretty girls and eager boys who don’t dare join in still like to watch on with laughter that is lighter than the air, and they spin their dreams around him as he spirals amongst the deep, rich colours.
When Enokizu is 30, he dances amongst the autumn leaves. Textured and fragile and sweet, a simply brush of his hand can bring them away from their branches and catch him in a brief, magical dance as they slowly float towards the iced ground. Mothers rush their children past and men look on with disapproval, but Enokizu cares much more for the crinkled heat of the leaves than this cold disdain. Sometimes there is laughter, but it is hard, vicious, and Enokizu sees in it strange shadows of things that are best not to be. Enokizu dances – dances alone – in a quiet soliloquy to a world that no longer finds beauty in that which it doesn’t understand.