Input Please?
Jul. 4th, 2003 02:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elfgroveI'm trying to write again. This is the start of a short story. Thoughts? Grammar corrections?
Bam! Bam!
Lesley tumbled into an ungraceful heap next to his bed. He looked up towards the closed door and brushed the locks of thick turquoise hair away from his face.
"Ah..." He moved to sit cross-legged, trying to pat the thick mane of hair down. "Who's there?"
A familiar voice replied. "Kira."
"Ehhh..." Lesley looked at the clock. 9:05am. "You're early! I'm... I'm not up yet!" He muttered under his breath. "Not exactly..."
"I figured I'd buy you breakfast." Kira's voice came through the door clearly.
Lesley looked back at his bed. Nothing was really out of place. You couldn't tell anything had happened. But... Kira was his best friend. He'd have to talk to her sooner or later. And Kira buying breakfast meant Potter's. That was too good to pass up. "Ah... Come on in. I gotta brush my hair."
The door opened and Kira, Kirak Bearfoot, stepped in. Her hair was cropped short with the exception of two long locks of hair in the front, that were bound by light brown ribbon today. She wore a long-sleeved dark green t-shirt underneath a short light brown poncho-style top, with blue jeans and brown boots. She looked foreign, but unidentifiably so, with naturally tan skin, brown eyes and light purple, almost white hair. Lesley was among the very few who knew about her heritage, her mother was a full-blooded Native American, and her dad, well her father had disappeared suddenly when Kira was six, and that was all Kira knew about him, there weren't even pictures. Lesley was the only person who had believed her when she told him that her hair color was natural, not dyed. He understood that one; his pale turquoise hair was the same way. She had a pretty medium build overall, but she still looked short next to Lesley, most people did.
She knelt down next to where he was sitting. "This is pretty late rising for you."
"Yeah." He laughed shortly and stood up, walking to the bathroom to find a brush.
She came to stand in the bathroom door, leaning against one side of the doorframe. "Something happen? You seem ticked."
"Weird morning." The brush stuck on some tangles, and he paused to detach the comb from his hair and try again. "Very weird."
"Ah."
That was the nice thing about Kira. She knew just when he was or wasn't in the mood to talk, and waited until he was ready to broach the subject.
***
It wasn't very long before they were sitting at a booth at Potter's, a diner two blocks off the University's campus. Lesley had on a pair of sneakers with blue jeans and an old white renaissance faire poet's shirt.
The waitress came up and set down their coffees and bowls of rice. "The rest will be out in a few minutes."
Kira smiled. "I'll never know where they came up with this. Most places just serve grits."
Lesley swallowed down a big spoonful and grinned across the table at her. "Me either. But I'll never go back to grits now."
Kira swirled hers with a spoon. "Brown rice, brown sugar, and buttermilk." She shook her head gently. "This is the only place that'll make the stuff. What do you do at home?"
"Make it myself." Lesley looked across the table at Kira, who only stared down at her bowl. "Hey."
"Eh?" She looked up in surprise.
"Okay. I give. You tell me what's wrong, and I'll tell you what happened to me this morning." He pushed the rice bowl away and leaned forward on the table. "Deal?"
"Heh." Kira leaned back in her chair and smiled through closed eyes.
"Well Bearfoot?" Lesley pressed her a little.
"You've got a deal Whitman." Kira moved slightly and stared right into Lesley's eyes. "Have you ever, I mean... Has your Mom ever tried to contact you?"
Lesley's mother had pulled a similar stunt on him as the one Kira's father had. About the time his little sister turned six, she had just up and disappeared, Lesley had been around nine, but he didn't really remember her. His father wouldn't talk about her, but Lesley had found one or two photos of and elegantly slim and tall woman with pale turquoise hair. Between the disappearance similarities and Lesley and Kira's odd hair colors, they had half joked many times that they were somehow related or that their parents had met and run off with each other, even though the disappearances had been three years apart. Kira was the same age as Lesley. "No. I've never had contact before."
Kira continued to keep her eyes locked on Lesley's. This was one of her oddities, when she was saying something serious; you had to be able to meet her eyes. It was the only way she could trust you believed her. "I got a call last night. Some strange woman saying my father wants to meet me."
Next >>
Bam! Bam!
Lesley tumbled into an ungraceful heap next to his bed. He looked up towards the closed door and brushed the locks of thick turquoise hair away from his face.
"Ah..." He moved to sit cross-legged, trying to pat the thick mane of hair down. "Who's there?"
A familiar voice replied. "Kira."
"Ehhh..." Lesley looked at the clock. 9:05am. "You're early! I'm... I'm not up yet!" He muttered under his breath. "Not exactly..."
"I figured I'd buy you breakfast." Kira's voice came through the door clearly.
Lesley looked back at his bed. Nothing was really out of place. You couldn't tell anything had happened. But... Kira was his best friend. He'd have to talk to her sooner or later. And Kira buying breakfast meant Potter's. That was too good to pass up. "Ah... Come on in. I gotta brush my hair."
The door opened and Kira, Kirak Bearfoot, stepped in. Her hair was cropped short with the exception of two long locks of hair in the front, that were bound by light brown ribbon today. She wore a long-sleeved dark green t-shirt underneath a short light brown poncho-style top, with blue jeans and brown boots. She looked foreign, but unidentifiably so, with naturally tan skin, brown eyes and light purple, almost white hair. Lesley was among the very few who knew about her heritage, her mother was a full-blooded Native American, and her dad, well her father had disappeared suddenly when Kira was six, and that was all Kira knew about him, there weren't even pictures. Lesley was the only person who had believed her when she told him that her hair color was natural, not dyed. He understood that one; his pale turquoise hair was the same way. She had a pretty medium build overall, but she still looked short next to Lesley, most people did.
She knelt down next to where he was sitting. "This is pretty late rising for you."
"Yeah." He laughed shortly and stood up, walking to the bathroom to find a brush.
She came to stand in the bathroom door, leaning against one side of the doorframe. "Something happen? You seem ticked."
"Weird morning." The brush stuck on some tangles, and he paused to detach the comb from his hair and try again. "Very weird."
"Ah."
That was the nice thing about Kira. She knew just when he was or wasn't in the mood to talk, and waited until he was ready to broach the subject.
It wasn't very long before they were sitting at a booth at Potter's, a diner two blocks off the University's campus. Lesley had on a pair of sneakers with blue jeans and an old white renaissance faire poet's shirt.
The waitress came up and set down their coffees and bowls of rice. "The rest will be out in a few minutes."
Kira smiled. "I'll never know where they came up with this. Most places just serve grits."
Lesley swallowed down a big spoonful and grinned across the table at her. "Me either. But I'll never go back to grits now."
Kira swirled hers with a spoon. "Brown rice, brown sugar, and buttermilk." She shook her head gently. "This is the only place that'll make the stuff. What do you do at home?"
"Make it myself." Lesley looked across the table at Kira, who only stared down at her bowl. "Hey."
"Eh?" She looked up in surprise.
"Okay. I give. You tell me what's wrong, and I'll tell you what happened to me this morning." He pushed the rice bowl away and leaned forward on the table. "Deal?"
"Heh." Kira leaned back in her chair and smiled through closed eyes.
"Well Bearfoot?" Lesley pressed her a little.
"You've got a deal Whitman." Kira moved slightly and stared right into Lesley's eyes. "Have you ever, I mean... Has your Mom ever tried to contact you?"
Lesley's mother had pulled a similar stunt on him as the one Kira's father had. About the time his little sister turned six, she had just up and disappeared, Lesley had been around nine, but he didn't really remember her. His father wouldn't talk about her, but Lesley had found one or two photos of and elegantly slim and tall woman with pale turquoise hair. Between the disappearance similarities and Lesley and Kira's odd hair colors, they had half joked many times that they were somehow related or that their parents had met and run off with each other, even though the disappearances had been three years apart. Kira was the same age as Lesley. "No. I've never had contact before."
Kira continued to keep her eyes locked on Lesley's. This was one of her oddities, when she was saying something serious; you had to be able to meet her eyes. It was the only way she could trust you believed her. "I got a call last night. Some strange woman saying my father wants to meet me."
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2003-07-04 04:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-07-05 08:14 am (UTC)I shall write more today.
Re:
Date: 2003-07-05 06:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-07-05 06:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-07-05 09:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-07-05 10:28 am (UTC)Actually, this is connected to another story I've worked on. Not LotF though.
I'm glad it's involving.