James "The Rookie" Dante (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
whistlesatengineers) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
singularityderp2010-12-01 11:59 pm
whistlesatengineers) wrote in singularityderp2010-12-01 11:59 pm
Entry tags:
The Song Drabble Meme
the song drabble meme
It's pretty simple and fun, folks. This is how this works!
( 01 ) Have a playlist ready! Don't use all your songs--try and narrow it down a little.
( 02 ) Let everyone know how many songs you're working with. Also, which characters you would be willing to write about.
( 03 ) Others tag your post, picking a character or pairing or friendship or familial relationship or whatever, and then choose a number from your list.
( 01 ) Have a playlist ready! Don't use all your songs--try and narrow it down a little.
( 02 ) Let everyone know how many songs you're working with. Also, which characters you would be willing to write about.
( 03 ) Others tag your post, picking a character or pairing or friendship or familial relationship or whatever, and then choose a number from your list.
( 04 ) Write a drabble related to that song, using that/those character(s)!
Take as long as you need; there's no time limits here!
And here's some helpful HTML to make it pretty!
no subject
She met him in Garden Zone 10, a desert on the far side of Sacrosanct. The teleporters meant that every zone was easily accessible, but even so, the majority of the station's residents tended to stick close to Zone 00 and the Junkyard, keeping an eye on the new arrivals, or maybe just hoping - however irrationally - that the site of their arrival on the station might someday provide a way back home.
Here, it was quiet, no sound but that of the desert hawks screeching, the background noises of the station somehow muffled and obscured as soon as she got out of sight of the teleporter. There was no wind, and Sarah wondered if that was by chance, if Hypatia created winds and tides as well as sand and sea, or if it was always like this, still and lifeless and somehow unreal.
The Terminator was waiting, still and eternally patient, standing on the crest of a ridge and watching a hawk circling high overhead with focused, inhuman attention. He turned as she lost her footing in the sand, holding out a hand to prevent her sliding all the way down the slope. She grasped it and pulled herself up, and they stood together, looking over the vast expanse of sand below.
"You brought them?" She didn't need to ask, except to break the silence; of course he had brought them. Of course he'd come prepared.
"Yes." He turned to face her, not breaking eye contact as he lifted the heavy black bag from the sand behind him and opened it for her inspection. She looked inside, eyes darting over the contents before she slowly reached in and pulled out one of the bright tubes.
"Good," she said softly, turning it over in her hands. " - He would have liked this."
The Terminator said nothing, just reached out, his fingers closing gently over hers around the cylinder.
There was no wind here, and so the smoke remained after the fireworks had long since burned themselves out, ghostly echoes hanging motionless in the too-quiet sky. Sarah sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, head tilted back to stare into the darkness.
"Happy birthday, John," she said quietly. "I'll get back to you someday. I promise."
The Terminator said nothing, just reached out and settled a heavy hand on her shoulder.
Sarah leaned back against him, and let the tears fall.