Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Lost In Words part 4: The Colour of Magic



"The city is all right. To live in one
Is to be civilized, stay up and read
Or sing and dance all night and see sunrise
By waiting up instead of getting up."
 Robert Frost



They had sped over to her apartment overlooking the Dublin, a rather terrifying experience for Niall, due to the fact that a) It was absolutely packing it down, b) Venice always braked at the last moment, and drifted most every corner.
When they did get there, they got down to work, sifting through piles of paper, old notebooks and new, moleskin and Tesco’s own, written in all kinds of ink in a variety of colours and nib. What looked like quill written pages would have underlines in pencil and rainbow gel, or maps written over repeatedly. Most of the handwriting was her own messy swirls, some of it harsh printed text, some in the lettering of old friends and past colleagues. She smiled, as she looked her new companion sitting across from her, writing down the odd bit in a blue ink pen inscribed with Klingon. They carried on like this through the night, sipping cups of hot tea filled with far too much sugar, and half a ton of biscuits and chocolate, flipping through old maps and case notes, talking, her telling a rambling anecdote that was relevant when she started, Niall interjecting with jokes and questions, and both of them becoming more nonsensical as the night wore on.
During a lull, both of them pouring over books, still wide awake, they stopped. The dawn chorus had begun, light seeping in under her curtains and onto the floor and lighting the books closest, glimmering off of embossed foil titles, or highlighting old leather and dusky pages. Wordlessly, he stood up and threw open the curtains, allowing the light to flood in.
She was beside him in seconds, silent as the grave. They stood and watched the sun rise over Dublin harbour, turning it for a few seconds into Baile Átha Cliath again, illuminating the city and its sea. If magic had a colour, this would be so close. After their sleepless night of work and toil and learning and knowledge, they just stood and watch the sun rise, fingers incontestably intertwined. 















If you live in a city, and have seen the sun rise over the rooftops, you know exactly what I mean. If you've seen it rise over the sea, you're close. If you've seen it rise at all, from a night of no sleep, then you know.

7 comments:

  1. Whoa! So magical Ven! Extrodinary writing! So vivid and stunning. I love it!
    :D
    BRAVO!!!

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  2. ~grins~ Wow, I love your FF! It's brilliant and interesting and makes me want to read MORE!!! Awesome-sauce!

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  3. "Colour of Magic."

    I assume this is an intentional Pratchett reference?
    If so, *hugs*.
    If not, *hugs anyway*.

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  4. utterly intentional, of course =P
    *hugs* yeah, I've decided that if I can't come up with/steal any meaningfulless poop, I'll just use a book title

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  5. So amazing Momee! I want to read more, more and more ^^ Ah i sound like a leecher now... But it's so amazing!

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