slayer_fray: (B&W Mel)
The same way everyone else does, o’course.

Oh, y’mean, who, where, when? OK. Not that I ever thought it that important, but whatever.

After Harth died, I left Erin. Never went home after bein’ discharged from the beds. Grabbed t’eat. Slept where I dropped. I didn’t need family anymore. Was on my own.

I was fourteen. He was mid-thirties. Said his name was Case. I never got a last name. Don’t know if he even told the truth about his first.

I can’t remember if I believed he loved me, or even if I believed I loved him. It was a place to stay, a table to eat off, a warm body next to me. After fourteen years of sharin’ a bed - even with your brother - y’kinda miss it when it’s gone, y’know?

It was nothin’ special, ruttin’ away every night. Didn’t hurt or nothin’, even when I bled, but nothin’ to write home about - if I had been talking to my sister. I did some grabbin’ for him as well, bringin’ home food an’ stuff.

After about three weeks, I came back t’find him with a friend of his. Pump. Not as souped up as some’a the guys y’get in Versi, but an ugly creep anyway. And Case tells me that if I sleep with this guy, he’ll pay me three koi. Ruttin’ creep’s been pimpin’ me out to his buds.

I left that room five minutes later, wiping cartilage and blood from my fist. I never heard from either of them again. They were still breathing when I left though, I know that much.

Could never bring myself to care, though.

Muse: Melaka Fray
Fandom: Joss Whedon’s Fray
Word count: 275
slayer_fray: (Default)
I'm thirteen. It's a clear night in September.

Well, I say clear - nothing's really very clear these days, is it? Well, not usually, but if you go up far enough, you can almost get out of the general smog of the city, and almost see the sky.

And that's where I'm taking Harth now.

Thing is, Harth has always been a fan of the sky he can't see. I'm happy in the city: at home in the three dimensional maze of buildings and vehicles, climbing and running and jumping like a monkey in the jungle on one of those historical nature scopes. Harth, though, he’ll sit for hours in front of the scope screen, just soaking it all in. He'll watch anything really, but he loves history. He'll watch anything that has men on horses or girls in skirts: sword fights, romance, honour: he loves that toy.

But mostly he loves the sky. It's always so blue in the scopes, he says. Nowadays the sky over Haddyn's all sorts of shades of red and violet and yellow as pollutants mix with - well, other pollutants - in the air around the city. I don't mind it so much: I think it's dramatic, but Harth likes the blue from the scopes, and the stars. He loves that in the past they could see stars.

So, what better way to tell my brother I love him than to take him to see the stars? I'm not so spun as to try and get out of the protecting fog while the sun's beating down - I like my DNA as it is, thank you - but after dark, that's safe. The building I'm taking him to has an official name, I think, but I don't know it. We just call it The Needle. Anyway, it's big. Tallest in New York, by all accounts. Apartments, mostly. Folks rich enough to afford somewhere this far above the rest of the city, up above where the usual smog and cloud obscure the light, well, they don’t tend to want to become radies, so they don’t tend to have windows.

And that’s good, because then they can’t see me climbing up the outside of the building with Harth on my back.

Security’s tight, of course, place like this, but as long as there’s no windows, and no way of actually getting into the apartment, there’s nothing I can’t dodge, leap over, or avoid altogether. I’m gonna be a professional grabber one day, this is nothin’.

Harth’s clinging to me. He always was terrified of heights. But I’m not going to let him fall. His hands slip and I just grab onto him. I’d carry him slung over my shoulder if I wasn’t worried about him chucking down my back. That’s not the point, though, anyway. Climbin’s just getting there. And when we break out of the cloud cover, his complaints stop. I cover the last few yards quickly without his whines, and bring him to the top of the building.

“Oh, Mel!” He says, staring up at the sky above. “Look at it, Mel!”

I’m looking of course. That’s why I brought him up here, but I punch him lightly in the arm. “See, Scaredy, toldya it would be worth it!”

He won’t go near the edge of the roof of course, but sinks to his knees right in the center of the roof, head back, mouth open, just gaping at the sight. It’s kinda shiny, I guess. But when it gets down to it, it’s just black with white dots. Harth thinks it’s rocketship though, and that’s what matters. I sit down next to him, wrapping my arms arm around me for warmth and look up with him.

Harth leans back automatically so we’re lying down, and starts pointing out constellations. “That one there,” he says, “is Cassiopeia. She was the mother of Andromeda, and…” and he carries on with that for hours, telling me stories from his scopes that I have no way of telling whether he’s spinning me or not.

Erin’s gonna be skitzed when we get home. She’ll be skitzed we left without telling her and even more so next week when Harth accidentally lets slip we’ve climbed The Needle. She’ll yell at both of us, spin some line about how she’s doin’ the best she can but we need to be responsible, and Harth’ll be so upset about it that I’ll never be able to persuade him to go back. Within a year, Harth’ll be dead.

But I don’t know any of that now. Now, I’m just lying next to my twin brother, our arms around each other for warmth and comfort, staring up at the stars and listening to his voice.

That is the memory I want to take with me.

Muse: Melaka Fray
Fandom: Fray
Word Count: 801
slayer_fray: (Default)

Talk about taking a meme too far. I'd already listed some things in my mun journal, but since playing Mel this past week, I've realised some more things about this Slayer, so here it is in essay form.

Holy crap but she's a bucket full of angst. )

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