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dragonlady7via http://ift.tt/1TSUQOF:
I have no idea what structure or publication schedule I’m going to wind up with for the Kes and Shara thing, or like, when. But I thought I had it all self-contained and then it spilled over the end.
Shara leaned in and pushed her shoulder against Kes’s. “That’s a game my papa and I play,” she said. “Especially when we’re very tired, or on a very long trip and we’re worried and broke. We play that game. If you could have anything, what would you have? If you could eat anything, what would you eat? If you could go anywhere, where would you go?”
He was still looking down at their hands. “Is it a good life?” he asked.
“What?”
He looked up toward her face, made the briefest eye contact, and then looked down again shyly. “You and your papa,” he said. “It seems like you don’t really— live anywhere in particular, you just travel around. Is that good? I never lived like that, I don’t know if it would be good.”
She shrugged. “As long as we’re together it’s not bad,” she said. “Sometimes I’m sad to leave a good place, but usually it’s nice to keep moving and see new things.”
He nodded. “We must seem— strange to you, then,” he said. “With our— obsession about finding a permanent place to stay.”
“Not strange,” she said. “I used to dream about that when I was a kid. A home to always come back to. Somewhere to belong.”
“But you grew out of it,” he said.
“I wouldn’t say that,” she said. “I just started dreaming about other things instead.”
He nodded, even though that had been her perfect set-up for him to start talking about his dreams, and she thought to herself that maybe she just wasn’t going to get him to ever admit what he wanted. He was a goddamned delicate flower, was what he was.
I have no idea what structure or publication schedule I’m going to wind up with for the Kes and Shara thing, or like, when. But I thought I had it all self-contained and then it spilled over the end.
Shara leaned in and pushed her shoulder against Kes’s. “That’s a game my papa and I play,” she said. “Especially when we’re very tired, or on a very long trip and we’re worried and broke. We play that game. If you could have anything, what would you have? If you could eat anything, what would you eat? If you could go anywhere, where would you go?”
He was still looking down at their hands. “Is it a good life?” he asked.
“What?”
He looked up toward her face, made the briefest eye contact, and then looked down again shyly. “You and your papa,” he said. “It seems like you don’t really— live anywhere in particular, you just travel around. Is that good? I never lived like that, I don’t know if it would be good.”
She shrugged. “As long as we’re together it’s not bad,” she said. “Sometimes I’m sad to leave a good place, but usually it’s nice to keep moving and see new things.”
He nodded. “We must seem— strange to you, then,” he said. “With our— obsession about finding a permanent place to stay.”
“Not strange,” she said. “I used to dream about that when I was a kid. A home to always come back to. Somewhere to belong.”
“But you grew out of it,” he said.
“I wouldn’t say that,” she said. “I just started dreaming about other things instead.”
He nodded, even though that had been her perfect set-up for him to start talking about his dreams, and she thought to herself that maybe she just wasn’t going to get him to ever admit what he wanted. He was a goddamned delicate flower, was what he was.
