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31_days2005-10-04 11:25 pm
yesthatnagia.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2005-10-04 11:25 pm
[Oct 4] [Original] Heaven Found Fair
Title: Heaven Found Fair
Day/Theme: Oct 4 / Why do you sleep with girls?
Series: Original
Character/Pairing: Meli/Emry
Rating: PG-13 for shojo ai.
Summary: Emry takes Princess Melisande back to her humble home in Pokey, Kentucky. Unfortunately, Emry's younger brother is still a demon child.
Emry— once known as Emily Browsing, but she hadn't been Emily for a good long time, now— groaned and buried her head underneath the covers. The comforter was light blue, of course, as were her walls, her door, her drapes. Everything in that room was either light blue or white.
Funny, how she'd forgotten that on her trip back to Pokey.
"It's too bright," Melisande murmured.
Emry laughed, softly, and placed a kiss on her lover's milky pale skin. "You know this isn't any brighter than England."
"England has clouds."
Emry shrugged. Melisande was like that, sometimes. She tended to hate sunlight, no mater what it meant. Even if it meant an awake and playful Emry.
"What's with the grumpiness? How am I supposed to show off the Princess of England to my parents and say she's the best girlfriend in the world if you're being a grump?"
Somebody began to knock on the door. Emry groaned, knowing exactly who it would be.
She slid from the bed, grabbing her robe off the (blue) chair by her (blue) desk. She wrapped it around herself and turned the door handle.
Melisande buried herself under the covers.
The door opened to reveal none other than her younger brother, Blake.
"Breakfast is ready, dorkface," he said.
"Be right there, dogbreath."
And then she slammed the door in his face.
"DORKFACE!" He screamed through the closed door.
"DOGBREATH!" She screamed back.
Sometimes, you just had to be a little childish. That was really the only fun way to cope with Blake. Being mature around him made him think you were egotistical (he called it 'balloon-headed').
"How mature of you," Melisande commented from beneath the blanket. "I'm glad to see you kept in touch with the classic nursery school insults."
Emry stuck her tongue out. "That was third grade at least!"
"I'm quite proud of your sudden maturation."
"You should be." And with that, Emry slipped over to the bed. With one delicious yank, she pulled the comforter from atop Meli.
The lovely porcelain-like skin of her lover's forehead wrinkled as she squinted. "Fine, if you want me to join your family for breakfast when I haven't—"
"—Breakfast is casual in this house. No excuses. How am I supposed to show you off if you're a grumpy hermit?"
Melisande grumbled. "I am not a grumpy hermit!"
"Then have you spent the last four days hiding in my room, reading?"
"Because, frankly, your brother frightens me."
"He frightens me, too, and I grew up with him. No excuses. You are coming to breakfast."
Emry smiled at her mother. She couldn't help but notice the light streaks of grey in her mother's dark brown hair, how tired she looked.
But still Sandra laughed as she sprinkled chocolate chips in the pancake batter, and Sandra still joked with Keith about the way he peeled oranges for the juicer. The kitchen seemed full of light and air and laughter. Everything was smiles and sunshine.
Right up until Emry looked over at the calendar that hung on a wall. Someone had drawn a circle in blue ink around a date three days from that morning. In yet more blue ink, the same person (presumably) had written D.
D for departure.
She had three days left in heaven. She had three days left with her family. As she thought of their departure, she felt a pang in her chest. She was going to miss the easy rapport, the simple, gentle rhythm of life in Pokey.
Wendy laughed and smiled as she buttered biscuits and hit away Blake's hand with a spoon. "Wait until your mom has the pancakes done!"
"I don't want to! You're not my mom, you can't make me!"
"Oh can't I?"
Emry smiled at the two of them. Beside her, Melisande's hand crept under the table, reaching towards her. Emry took Melisande's hand in hers, squeezed it.
"That's enough, you two. Wendy, did you get your laundry out of my machine?"
"Sorry, Sandra. Completely forgot about my laundry. I'll go grab it." Wendy left the room.
Sandra smiled brightly at Melisande. "Melisande, honey, would you like some coffee? Tea? Orange juice?"
Emry smirked when Melisande startled. Apparently, she just couldn't get used to people dropping her title.
"Coffee, please."
"Would you like anything in it?"
"I prefer it black, thank you."
Sandra set a mug on the table. Beside it, she placed a tray heaped with chocolate chip pancakes.
Emry smacked Blake's hand away from the plate of biscuits. "Wait for all the pancakes, dogbreath. Mom, do you want me to fix some eggs or something?"
"If you want to, sweetie. And do you mind finishing up the pancakes?"
"Not a prob." Emry headed toward the stove, grabbing a skillet from the hanging cabinet. She pulled the egg carton out of the refrigerator and set to work.
Blake, looking bored, left the room.
Sandra sat down next to Melisande. She took a sip of coffee from a ridiculously tall mug that read LOVE IS PATIENT, LOVE IS KIND.
Emry poured the thoroughly scrambled eggs into the skillet, then dumped pancake batter into a different skillet.
"Have you enjoyed your stay?" Sandra asked in an entirely too-sweet voice.
Translation: I don't know how you had fun in there.
"It was very relaxing. Thank you for extending your house to me. It was very kind of you."
"It was no trouble at all, dear." Translation: I barely noticed I'd extended my house to you. "Are you anxious to go home?"
"No, not at all!"
Emry watched the two of them closely. Her mother had a nasty tendency to say exactly what she thought, just couched.
"I'm glad you enjoyed your trip, dear-heart. When are you two getting married?"
"We're not," Emry snapped. "A Canadian marriage license would be just as useless in Britain as it would be in America."
"Besides, I can't marry a woman. We can and will have a domestic partnership, though."
They all went silent at that. Well, the juicer didn't go silent. No, instead, Keith ran the juicer at full speed and noise.
After a while, Sandra blinked. "Melisande, I don't want you getting back on that plane without something to take with you. Airplane food is terrible. Would you like me to make you a little cake?"
Oh fuck no. Holy shit. She's threatening her with cake?
"Mom, we aren't leaving for another three days! There's no real reason to worry about this!"
It was then that Blake walked back into the room. His hand reached out, but before he could snatch a biscuit, Melisande slapped his hand away.
"Don't," Melisande warned.
"Melisande, please tell me that you're going to at least have a little fun while you're in America?" Sandra pulled out the puppy eyes.
Emry resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her mother.
Blake smirked. "Come on, Ma! They've been having slumber parties all week!"
Emry paused in the middle of turning over a pancake. "Slumber parties?"
"Well, yeah! Why else would you two share a room?"
Melisande blinked. She turned to Emry, who turned to look at her mother.
"Blake, what do you think of chocolate cake with your birthday dinner tonight?" Sandra asked, her expression suspiciously idle as she sipped from her mug.
The colour leaked from Blake's face. "I-I'd prefer p-pie, actually!"'
Emry smirked at the blank expression on Melisande's face. Melisande hadn't learned yet that cake was not something you trusted in this house.
She scooped the eggs onto a paper towel and the pancakes onto a plate. After that, she leaned against the counter and crossed her arms. "I'm sick of beating around the bush with this. Happy eleventh, Blake. Congratulations, your older sister is gay."
Blake stared at her. His expression didn't change.
"Melisande isn't just my best friend. If it were legal, we'd be getting married RIGHT NOW."
When the inevitable question came, it came in a small, hesitant voice. "...You sleep with girls?"
Melisande took a sip of coffee, snapping, "Yes, Blake, your sister sleeps with women. If you have a problem—"
"—That's enough, Melisande." This came from Keith, who had been content to run the juicer.
"Why do you sleep with girls?"
And Emry, shrugging, replied, "Why not?"
EL FIN
Day/Theme: Oct 4 / Why do you sleep with girls?
Series: Original
Character/Pairing: Meli/Emry
Rating: PG-13 for shojo ai.
Summary: Emry takes Princess Melisande back to her humble home in Pokey, Kentucky. Unfortunately, Emry's younger brother is still a demon child.
Emry— once known as Emily Browsing, but she hadn't been Emily for a good long time, now— groaned and buried her head underneath the covers. The comforter was light blue, of course, as were her walls, her door, her drapes. Everything in that room was either light blue or white.
Funny, how she'd forgotten that on her trip back to Pokey.
"It's too bright," Melisande murmured.
Emry laughed, softly, and placed a kiss on her lover's milky pale skin. "You know this isn't any brighter than England."
"England has clouds."
Emry shrugged. Melisande was like that, sometimes. She tended to hate sunlight, no mater what it meant. Even if it meant an awake and playful Emry.
"What's with the grumpiness? How am I supposed to show off the Princess of England to my parents and say she's the best girlfriend in the world if you're being a grump?"
Somebody began to knock on the door. Emry groaned, knowing exactly who it would be.
She slid from the bed, grabbing her robe off the (blue) chair by her (blue) desk. She wrapped it around herself and turned the door handle.
Melisande buried herself under the covers.
The door opened to reveal none other than her younger brother, Blake.
"Breakfast is ready, dorkface," he said.
"Be right there, dogbreath."
And then she slammed the door in his face.
"DORKFACE!" He screamed through the closed door.
"DOGBREATH!" She screamed back.
Sometimes, you just had to be a little childish. That was really the only fun way to cope with Blake. Being mature around him made him think you were egotistical (he called it 'balloon-headed').
"How mature of you," Melisande commented from beneath the blanket. "I'm glad to see you kept in touch with the classic nursery school insults."
Emry stuck her tongue out. "That was third grade at least!"
"I'm quite proud of your sudden maturation."
"You should be." And with that, Emry slipped over to the bed. With one delicious yank, she pulled the comforter from atop Meli.
The lovely porcelain-like skin of her lover's forehead wrinkled as she squinted. "Fine, if you want me to join your family for breakfast when I haven't—"
"—Breakfast is casual in this house. No excuses. How am I supposed to show you off if you're a grumpy hermit?"
Melisande grumbled. "I am not a grumpy hermit!"
"Then have you spent the last four days hiding in my room, reading?"
"Because, frankly, your brother frightens me."
"He frightens me, too, and I grew up with him. No excuses. You are coming to breakfast."
Emry smiled at her mother. She couldn't help but notice the light streaks of grey in her mother's dark brown hair, how tired she looked.
But still Sandra laughed as she sprinkled chocolate chips in the pancake batter, and Sandra still joked with Keith about the way he peeled oranges for the juicer. The kitchen seemed full of light and air and laughter. Everything was smiles and sunshine.
Right up until Emry looked over at the calendar that hung on a wall. Someone had drawn a circle in blue ink around a date three days from that morning. In yet more blue ink, the same person (presumably) had written D.
D for departure.
She had three days left in heaven. She had three days left with her family. As she thought of their departure, she felt a pang in her chest. She was going to miss the easy rapport, the simple, gentle rhythm of life in Pokey.
Wendy laughed and smiled as she buttered biscuits and hit away Blake's hand with a spoon. "Wait until your mom has the pancakes done!"
"I don't want to! You're not my mom, you can't make me!"
"Oh can't I?"
Emry smiled at the two of them. Beside her, Melisande's hand crept under the table, reaching towards her. Emry took Melisande's hand in hers, squeezed it.
"That's enough, you two. Wendy, did you get your laundry out of my machine?"
"Sorry, Sandra. Completely forgot about my laundry. I'll go grab it." Wendy left the room.
Sandra smiled brightly at Melisande. "Melisande, honey, would you like some coffee? Tea? Orange juice?"
Emry smirked when Melisande startled. Apparently, she just couldn't get used to people dropping her title.
"Coffee, please."
"Would you like anything in it?"
"I prefer it black, thank you."
Sandra set a mug on the table. Beside it, she placed a tray heaped with chocolate chip pancakes.
Emry smacked Blake's hand away from the plate of biscuits. "Wait for all the pancakes, dogbreath. Mom, do you want me to fix some eggs or something?"
"If you want to, sweetie. And do you mind finishing up the pancakes?"
"Not a prob." Emry headed toward the stove, grabbing a skillet from the hanging cabinet. She pulled the egg carton out of the refrigerator and set to work.
Blake, looking bored, left the room.
Sandra sat down next to Melisande. She took a sip of coffee from a ridiculously tall mug that read LOVE IS PATIENT, LOVE IS KIND.
Emry poured the thoroughly scrambled eggs into the skillet, then dumped pancake batter into a different skillet.
"Have you enjoyed your stay?" Sandra asked in an entirely too-sweet voice.
Translation: I don't know how you had fun in there.
"It was very relaxing. Thank you for extending your house to me. It was very kind of you."
"It was no trouble at all, dear." Translation: I barely noticed I'd extended my house to you. "Are you anxious to go home?"
"No, not at all!"
Emry watched the two of them closely. Her mother had a nasty tendency to say exactly what she thought, just couched.
"I'm glad you enjoyed your trip, dear-heart. When are you two getting married?"
"We're not," Emry snapped. "A Canadian marriage license would be just as useless in Britain as it would be in America."
"Besides, I can't marry a woman. We can and will have a domestic partnership, though."
They all went silent at that. Well, the juicer didn't go silent. No, instead, Keith ran the juicer at full speed and noise.
After a while, Sandra blinked. "Melisande, I don't want you getting back on that plane without something to take with you. Airplane food is terrible. Would you like me to make you a little cake?"
Oh fuck no. Holy shit. She's threatening her with cake?
"Mom, we aren't leaving for another three days! There's no real reason to worry about this!"
It was then that Blake walked back into the room. His hand reached out, but before he could snatch a biscuit, Melisande slapped his hand away.
"Don't," Melisande warned.
"Melisande, please tell me that you're going to at least have a little fun while you're in America?" Sandra pulled out the puppy eyes.
Emry resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her mother.
Blake smirked. "Come on, Ma! They've been having slumber parties all week!"
Emry paused in the middle of turning over a pancake. "Slumber parties?"
"Well, yeah! Why else would you two share a room?"
Melisande blinked. She turned to Emry, who turned to look at her mother.
"Blake, what do you think of chocolate cake with your birthday dinner tonight?" Sandra asked, her expression suspiciously idle as she sipped from her mug.
The colour leaked from Blake's face. "I-I'd prefer p-pie, actually!"'
Emry smirked at the blank expression on Melisande's face. Melisande hadn't learned yet that cake was not something you trusted in this house.
She scooped the eggs onto a paper towel and the pancakes onto a plate. After that, she leaned against the counter and crossed her arms. "I'm sick of beating around the bush with this. Happy eleventh, Blake. Congratulations, your older sister is gay."
Blake stared at her. His expression didn't change.
"Melisande isn't just my best friend. If it were legal, we'd be getting married RIGHT NOW."
When the inevitable question came, it came in a small, hesitant voice. "...You sleep with girls?"
Melisande took a sip of coffee, snapping, "Yes, Blake, your sister sleeps with women. If you have a problem—"
"—That's enough, Melisande." This came from Keith, who had been content to run the juicer.
"Why do you sleep with girls?"
And Emry, shrugging, replied, "Why not?"
EL FIN