(no subject)

[meatbrained]

( five + one )

how it works:

i. post a comment with the characters you play.
ii. go around and prompt other players with a 5 + 1 prompt (e.g. "Five times Hope said sorry and one time he didn't")
iii. write a fic for the prompts people leave you!
iv. enjoy your fic? we hope?

Comments

[dedikated]

| five times Kate spoke out and one time she didn't

"You're not getting me in that."

Faith pouts, because there's nothing wrong with the dress. It's a good colour - totally Kate's colour, by the way (do you know how hard it is to find clothes that match bright pink hair?) - and cut. She can even run in it and Faith knows how much that means to Kate.

They argue all the way home and Faith buys it anyway, pushes it into the boot of Kate's car because surely that means she'll have to wear it. No sense letting good dresses go to waste!

Kate meets her at the bar in denim shorts and a smirk.

"Don't be ridiculous."

She throws the words over her shoulder, mid-application of mascara and stood at the medicine cabinet in the bathroom when Marc hums about getting a buzzcut instead of the blue curtains of hair he's had since they were old enough to be allowed to buy bleach and colour their hair (yin and yang, blue and pink, boy and girl). He frowns, pushes his hair back and asks why not.

She snorts and puts down her make up.

"Because you're a nerd, that's why not."

(They don't need to have this conversation aloud, they don't need to have any conversation aloud, but they do, if only to keep their voices from breaking with lack of use.)

"You trying to get yourself killed?"

She asks Carl this when he comes crashing into a fight she's having on the rooftops of Manchester, too close to The Agency's headquarters to allow the attacker to live. They've all the strength of a Creature possessing a man, all the control and terror that existence brings. (He is not the first man she has to kill in order to end a possession and he will not be the last).

He throws it back at her, fights her in that way that comes from two all too similar forces clashing, and her words turn to acid, her limbs turn to stone.

(Somehow, it all turns into bodies pressed against one another, into wordless gasps and claws for fingers.)

"I'm not letting you talk to him."

She's twelve when she says it, folded arms and freshly washed. The officer opposite her rubs his temples with a hand and glances at the child advocate sitting with her to ensure that she's kept safe in the aftermath of a traumatic event. The woman tilts her head, leans in towards Kate and explains that Marc will get the same treatment she does. Advocates, gentle questioning. No one is going to hurt her brother.

"I don't care. You don't get to talk to him. He's scared and I can do just fine on my own. I don't talk until you stop asking about him."

The police officer exhales loudly and stops asking.

(They interview Marc anyway, but not until after they put her at some sort of ease.)

"I don't think elephants really make the sun rise, do they, mum?"

Their morning ritual of stories and legends, of all the little things Kath tells her daughter while they wile away the breaking dawn on the roof of their house, is broken one day with that question. Kate - Kat to her family - stares up at her mother as she rakes long fingers through her daughter's hair and breaks it into sections to braid it.

(It reaches her thighs now, keeping it loose is impractical when you're as active as her daughter is.)

"No. But isn't the world a little more fun like this? When you believe they do?"

Kate doesn't respond to that, just hums and lets her eyes follow the lines of morning gold as they scatter across the trees in the field beyond their back garden.

[hornrims]

Oh this is really great! It provides a neat look into Kate and her world while also making me want to know more. Thank you for this. <3

[meatbrained]

/claps happily! you're welcome! also RUDE for making me write about her childhood gosh. :| it's so cute and ends so badly.