[wm] 78.6 - 'Revelation'
Mar. 2nd, 2009 07:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
magic_fratboy“It’s…her story.”
“I’m sorry?”
“It’s her story…all of ‘em. Oh God, it’s her.”
“Tommy, what are you talking about?”
Blinking, Tommy stared at Channing as if seeing her for the first time, though they’d been comparing fabric swatches for her backdrop onstage for over an hour. The revelation hit him in the middle of agonizing over three different shades of crimson, slamming into him so hard that his hands were shaking and he couldn’t quite catch his breath.
“Tommy, you’re shaking…you’re white as a sheet! Are you okay?”
His knees were jelly as he moved to the center of the theater’s stage, then strode over to grab a bolt of cloth from the left side and shook it into the air. Blood red streamed behind him as he stalked back swiftly, creating a ribbon of color that rippled and fell like water to reveal a series of paintings that hadn’t been on the empty stage a moment before.
“The dreams, the paintings…it’s her, Chan.” He breathed, staring at the dark and disjointed images that had been applied to canvas in the frenzied throes of his post-dream delirium. “For fuck’s sake, I named that one there Amystika! That’s her club! A-and look at some of these, the lines and the poses? Zee moved like that…I mean, when we were…well…y’know…”
The mild embarrassment of the moment finally distracted him enough to give Channing his notice again. His blood ran cold when he saw her face, as white and as disconnected as his must have been. The difference in the eyes, however…the horror, the awe…was what truly frightened him.
“Channing? Chan…hey, you okay?”
Moving forward wordlessly, he watched her slowly pace down the line of images…the leather-clad she-monster, the hollow-eyed Victorian doll, the murder of anthropomorphized crows, even the faceless bride before stopping in front of a canvas painted black and splashed with streaks of color in a picture that was nearly complete.
“Tommy, I had no idea…”
Her stricken, sorrowful whisper fell on nearly deaf ears as he stared at the paintings again, scrutinizing each one. The heavy shadows and indistinct lines were familiar to him, shadows of a life he knew and yet couldn’t see…
“Maybe you need some time off…”
“I need to work.” His tone was flat and commanding, alien in his own ears.
“Ehrie!”
He turned sharply at the use of his old nickname, the one Channing never spoke anymore unless she was feeling very affectionate or very upset. His conviction was solid, though…never in his life had he been more sure, felt more strong.
Something inside of him was dying, while something else was being reborn.
“These elements could fit into the show.” He declared with a nod, even though he already felt a fierce, protective surge of warmth for the paintings that suddenly made some sense to him. “I’ll work on ‘em for the future, but in the meantime? I’m gonna study them. Channing…I’ve been dreaming about Ziyah. These are pieces of my girl, and if I’m dreaming about her? There’s a chance…a slim one…that somewhere in this mess, maybe I dreamed about her killer, too.”
Muse: Tommy Karras
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 529
“I’m sorry?”
“It’s her story…all of ‘em. Oh God, it’s her.”
“Tommy, what are you talking about?”
Blinking, Tommy stared at Channing as if seeing her for the first time, though they’d been comparing fabric swatches for her backdrop onstage for over an hour. The revelation hit him in the middle of agonizing over three different shades of crimson, slamming into him so hard that his hands were shaking and he couldn’t quite catch his breath.
“Tommy, you’re shaking…you’re white as a sheet! Are you okay?”
His knees were jelly as he moved to the center of the theater’s stage, then strode over to grab a bolt of cloth from the left side and shook it into the air. Blood red streamed behind him as he stalked back swiftly, creating a ribbon of color that rippled and fell like water to reveal a series of paintings that hadn’t been on the empty stage a moment before.
“The dreams, the paintings…it’s her, Chan.” He breathed, staring at the dark and disjointed images that had been applied to canvas in the frenzied throes of his post-dream delirium. “For fuck’s sake, I named that one there Amystika! That’s her club! A-and look at some of these, the lines and the poses? Zee moved like that…I mean, when we were…well…y’know…”
The mild embarrassment of the moment finally distracted him enough to give Channing his notice again. His blood ran cold when he saw her face, as white and as disconnected as his must have been. The difference in the eyes, however…the horror, the awe…was what truly frightened him.
“Channing? Chan…hey, you okay?”
Moving forward wordlessly, he watched her slowly pace down the line of images…the leather-clad she-monster, the hollow-eyed Victorian doll, the murder of anthropomorphized crows, even the faceless bride before stopping in front of a canvas painted black and splashed with streaks of color in a picture that was nearly complete.
“Tommy, I had no idea…”
Her stricken, sorrowful whisper fell on nearly deaf ears as he stared at the paintings again, scrutinizing each one. The heavy shadows and indistinct lines were familiar to him, shadows of a life he knew and yet couldn’t see…
“Maybe you need some time off…”
“I need to work.” His tone was flat and commanding, alien in his own ears.
“Ehrie!”
He turned sharply at the use of his old nickname, the one Channing never spoke anymore unless she was feeling very affectionate or very upset. His conviction was solid, though…never in his life had he been more sure, felt more strong.
Something inside of him was dying, while something else was being reborn.
“These elements could fit into the show.” He declared with a nod, even though he already felt a fierce, protective surge of warmth for the paintings that suddenly made some sense to him. “I’ll work on ‘em for the future, but in the meantime? I’m gonna study them. Channing…I’ve been dreaming about Ziyah. These are pieces of my girl, and if I’m dreaming about her? There’s a chance…a slim one…that somewhere in this mess, maybe I dreamed about her killer, too.”
Muse: Tommy Karras
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 529
