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firefly_fanfic2009-10-15 12:50 am
memorysdaughter.livejournal.com) wrote in firefly_fanfic2009-10-15 12:50 am
Entry tags:
All the Things She Said
Title: All The Things She Said
Summary: River + words = this ficlet
Author: Sarah-Beth (memorysdaughter)
Rating: G-ish
Author's Note: This was inspired by the beautiful video HERE.
All the Things She Said
In the dark nothingness that is the night, words stream through her head. They wrap around her like ribbons, like rope, like wire, scratching against her palms, tying her up, binding her tightly, never letting her go.
They fly past her, glowing, beacons and embers and cinders and jelly beans, full of sibilant consonants and sliding vowels. They fidget under her toenails and scrape up her earlobes and dance around her, holding hands. If she closes her eyes they'll be there like Braille, flowing and vibrating. They hum inside her, and she knows them well enough to sing them aloud.
In the dark nothingness that is the night, she arranges these stars, connecting them with light and rhythm, giving them a home. She knows these words, they're guided by her heartbeat, by the internal compass that never steers her wrong, no matter how inaccurately she interprets its instructions.
She gives them permission to bloom in her sight, to spin around her in odes and etudes, in sonnets and songs. She is those words, feels them from the tippy-top of her head to the very ends of her toes. Barefoot and bareheaded in the cargo bay, she can spin those words into a cyclone of preservation, a cocoon to keep her safe, a smoldering safe haven.
They are her warmth; they light her up from the inside out, until she is fairly glowing. Her pale skin glitters and her hands become wicks, throwing light to where there was none before.
They are her words - within them she is safe. They whisk around her head like they're waltzing, as though she's taught them to be that civilized, when in fact she has given them no such permission. Her mouth refuses to grant them harbor, spilling them tentatively and hesitantly, having seen their destructive power. They are hers but she belongs to them; it has never been any other way.
Some of them she repeats hesitantly, testing out their sound in the still air. Perfect. Loved. Found. Whole. They should be hers but they will not let her possess them.
Other words choke her with their layer-cake thick-frosting sweetness, congealing and sealing her mouth. Hatred. Empty. Balance. Anger.
Then she is forced to say those words that come out rapid-fire, words that were not hers to begin with, words that were pounded into her until she had no choice but to accept them: crazy. Dangerous. Monster. Horrible. Weapon. Not-a-girl.
And when those words threaten to sweep her away with their seductive dulling lullaby, she finds herself nearly screaming the bright handprint stars that keep the darkness away: Simon. Kaylee. Mal. Wash. Zoe. Inara. Shepherd. Jayne. Safe here. Serenity.
It's a litany that saves her, keeps her from harm, frees her to say three more tripping stones, a diminished chord in a minor key: Who am I?
And a sudden resolution, shining brighter than any other, so big as to eclipse the darkness and scoop her up and hold her tight and bring her home.
River.
Summary: River + words = this ficlet
Author: Sarah-Beth (memorysdaughter)
Rating: G-ish
Author's Note: This was inspired by the beautiful video HERE.
All the Things She Said
In the dark nothingness that is the night, words stream through her head. They wrap around her like ribbons, like rope, like wire, scratching against her palms, tying her up, binding her tightly, never letting her go.
They fly past her, glowing, beacons and embers and cinders and jelly beans, full of sibilant consonants and sliding vowels. They fidget under her toenails and scrape up her earlobes and dance around her, holding hands. If she closes her eyes they'll be there like Braille, flowing and vibrating. They hum inside her, and she knows them well enough to sing them aloud.
In the dark nothingness that is the night, she arranges these stars, connecting them with light and rhythm, giving them a home. She knows these words, they're guided by her heartbeat, by the internal compass that never steers her wrong, no matter how inaccurately she interprets its instructions.
She gives them permission to bloom in her sight, to spin around her in odes and etudes, in sonnets and songs. She is those words, feels them from the tippy-top of her head to the very ends of her toes. Barefoot and bareheaded in the cargo bay, she can spin those words into a cyclone of preservation, a cocoon to keep her safe, a smoldering safe haven.
They are her warmth; they light her up from the inside out, until she is fairly glowing. Her pale skin glitters and her hands become wicks, throwing light to where there was none before.
They are her words - within them she is safe. They whisk around her head like they're waltzing, as though she's taught them to be that civilized, when in fact she has given them no such permission. Her mouth refuses to grant them harbor, spilling them tentatively and hesitantly, having seen their destructive power. They are hers but she belongs to them; it has never been any other way.
Some of them she repeats hesitantly, testing out their sound in the still air. Perfect. Loved. Found. Whole. They should be hers but they will not let her possess them.
Other words choke her with their layer-cake thick-frosting sweetness, congealing and sealing her mouth. Hatred. Empty. Balance. Anger.
Then she is forced to say those words that come out rapid-fire, words that were not hers to begin with, words that were pounded into her until she had no choice but to accept them: crazy. Dangerous. Monster. Horrible. Weapon. Not-a-girl.
And when those words threaten to sweep her away with their seductive dulling lullaby, she finds herself nearly screaming the bright handprint stars that keep the darkness away: Simon. Kaylee. Mal. Wash. Zoe. Inara. Shepherd. Jayne. Safe here. Serenity.
It's a litany that saves her, keeps her from harm, frees her to say three more tripping stones, a diminished chord in a minor key: Who am I?
And a sudden resolution, shining brighter than any other, so big as to eclipse the darkness and scoop her up and hold her tight and bring her home.
River.