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said_scarlett) wrote2004-06-11 11:19 am
said_scarlett) wrote2004-06-11 11:19 am
15 Minute Ficlet
This week's fifteen minute ficlet. Peter-centric, PG-13 for language. Word behind the cut.
Word: Drenched
Spring brought the rains. Peter Pettigrew loved the rain, and by default he loved Spring. Spring rains weren’t freezing or stinging or painful, they were soft and gentle. Sometimes there wasn’t even rain, just a fine mist rolling up from the lake. Peter would stand on the grounds with his arms spread and his eyes closed and just let it roll over him. It smelled like beginnings, like the morning. It was alive and moist and full of promises, at least in Peter‘s eyes and mind. And he was the only one who stood in the rain, so he was the only one to whom it really mattered. Who needed sunrises or gardens in blood when there was rain like this?
Fall rains were wet and slick and sickly, dampening the leaves and turning the world into something that smelled like an old compost heap. Winter rains were the rains of death. They were frigid and sharp and pelted down from the sky like tiny, icy arrows. Summer rains were few and far between, and were only a breath of fresh air in the stifling heat. Spring rains were the best.
“Hey, Wormtail!”
Peter turned, opening his eyes and dashing out some of the water with his hand. Squinting, he could just make out Sirius- or was it James? - coming towards him through the heavy mist. He liked it best when it was like this, thick and full and almost a solid wall of moisture. It made him feel real, it made him feel alive. I made him feel as if he was someone as it pattered against his skin.
“Yeah?”
“It’s getting late, what the hell are you doing out here? Holy…Peter, you’re drenched! Look at you, you’re gonna get sick, or something.”
It was Sirius. Peter lowered his arms and sighed. He was drenched, his robes and shirt and trousers clinging to his round frame like a second skin, one which would be peeled off in the showers and tossed aside for the House Elves.
“I was just out in the rain.” Peter shrugged, his voice small.
“You are nutters,” Sirius said, grabbing Peter’s arm and pulling him towards the castle. “Let’s get you inside before you catch pneumonia or something.”
Sirius just didn’t understand.
Word: Drenched
Spring brought the rains. Peter Pettigrew loved the rain, and by default he loved Spring. Spring rains weren’t freezing or stinging or painful, they were soft and gentle. Sometimes there wasn’t even rain, just a fine mist rolling up from the lake. Peter would stand on the grounds with his arms spread and his eyes closed and just let it roll over him. It smelled like beginnings, like the morning. It was alive and moist and full of promises, at least in Peter‘s eyes and mind. And he was the only one who stood in the rain, so he was the only one to whom it really mattered. Who needed sunrises or gardens in blood when there was rain like this?
Fall rains were wet and slick and sickly, dampening the leaves and turning the world into something that smelled like an old compost heap. Winter rains were the rains of death. They were frigid and sharp and pelted down from the sky like tiny, icy arrows. Summer rains were few and far between, and were only a breath of fresh air in the stifling heat. Spring rains were the best.
“Hey, Wormtail!”
Peter turned, opening his eyes and dashing out some of the water with his hand. Squinting, he could just make out Sirius- or was it James? - coming towards him through the heavy mist. He liked it best when it was like this, thick and full and almost a solid wall of moisture. It made him feel real, it made him feel alive. I made him feel as if he was someone as it pattered against his skin.
“Yeah?”
“It’s getting late, what the hell are you doing out here? Holy…Peter, you’re drenched! Look at you, you’re gonna get sick, or something.”
It was Sirius. Peter lowered his arms and sighed. He was drenched, his robes and shirt and trousers clinging to his round frame like a second skin, one which would be peeled off in the showers and tossed aside for the House Elves.
“I was just out in the rain.” Peter shrugged, his voice small.
“You are nutters,” Sirius said, grabbing Peter’s arm and pulling him towards the castle. “Let’s get you inside before you catch pneumonia or something.”
Sirius just didn’t understand.
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