Story: "Texas Sunrise" (Part 2 of 5)
Nov. 9th, 2012 07:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ysabetwordsmithThis story fills a square on my second card for the ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
cottoncandy_bingo fest. This fest encourages people to create and share material focused on what is variously called fluff, schmoop, gentle fiction, light reading, comfort reading, positive thinking, chicken soup for the soul, or anything else that offers a fun alternative to usual run of sex, violence, and angst of modern media. I'm hoping to attract some new readers for my writing.
The following story belongs to Schrodinger's Heroes, featuring an apocryphal television show supported by an imaginary fandom. It's science fiction about quantum physics and saving the world from alternate dimensions. It features a very mixed cast in terms of ethnicity and sexual orientation. This project developed with input from multiple people, and it's open for everyone to play in. You can read more about the background, the characters, and a bunch of assorted content on the menu page.
Begin this story with Part 1. Skip to Part 4, Part 5. This is a crossover with BBC Sherlock. You can read how these characters found each other in "THE Woman."
Fandom: BBC Sherlock and Original (Schrodinger's Heroes)
Prompt: Sunrise / Sunset
Medium: Fiction
Summary: John Watson wakes up in the Teferact compound and meets some of the other members of Schrodinger's Heroes, a process that ranges from charming to nerve-wracking.
Content Notes: Morning routines. Flangst. Oblique references to previous canon-typical mayhem. Happy ending.
"Texas Sunrise" Part 2
Ash sat cross-legged atop a large boulder, holding something like a flute in her slim copper hands. It looked thicker than any flute that John had seen, though, and it was not silver metal but some rich reddish wood. Near the mouthpiece, a little bird jutted up, held in place by a narrow strip of leather. Ash breathed through the flute, a wavering call like birdsong, like canyon winds.
John couldn't bear to interrupt. Instead he listened silently. He moved through a series of slow stretches, waking up his body. Around them the landscape began to come alive, insects flitting through the brush. The place was surprisingly green for a desert, not the yellows and browns that John had expected.
The air brightened around them, gradually revealing more colours, bits of flower and leaf and stone. A blue bottlecap shone in the sand. John leaned down absently to pick it up. The sky turned from peach to orange. The purple clouds kindled to a hot pink.
When the first golden splinter of sunlight pierced the shadows, the flute greeted it with a shrill crescendo that sent sparrows fluttering out of a small tree. The top arc of the sun appeared. Eyes watering, John had to look away.
He found Ash watching him, flute balanced gracefully across her knees. "I like to greet the sun in the morning, when I can," she said.
"Good habit," John said with a nod. He skimmed through his own memories of morning habits, from the tension of the army to the relative peace of Baker Street, and realised that he liked this better. Clear air and a flute's cry, with no particular obligation to say anything until one felt like it.
"How is Sherlock this morning?" Ash asked.
"He'll not wake up for a while yet, I think," John said. "Thanks again for putting us up."
"It's no trouble," Ash said. She uncurled her legs and slid off the rock. "Shall we see about getting some breakfast?"
"That would be delightful," John said, falling into step behind her.
[To be continued in Part 3 ...]
cottoncandy_bingo fest. This fest encourages people to create and share material focused on what is variously called fluff, schmoop, gentle fiction, light reading, comfort reading, positive thinking, chicken soup for the soul, or anything else that offers a fun alternative to usual run of sex, violence, and angst of modern media. I'm hoping to attract some new readers for my writing.The following story belongs to Schrodinger's Heroes, featuring an apocryphal television show supported by an imaginary fandom. It's science fiction about quantum physics and saving the world from alternate dimensions. It features a very mixed cast in terms of ethnicity and sexual orientation. This project developed with input from multiple people, and it's open for everyone to play in. You can read more about the background, the characters, and a bunch of assorted content on the menu page.
Begin this story with Part 1. Skip to Part 4, Part 5. This is a crossover with BBC Sherlock. You can read how these characters found each other in "THE Woman."
Fandom: BBC Sherlock and Original (Schrodinger's Heroes)
Prompt: Sunrise / Sunset
Medium: Fiction
Summary: John Watson wakes up in the Teferact compound and meets some of the other members of Schrodinger's Heroes, a process that ranges from charming to nerve-wracking.
Content Notes: Morning routines. Flangst. Oblique references to previous canon-typical mayhem. Happy ending.
"Texas Sunrise" Part 2
Ash sat cross-legged atop a large boulder, holding something like a flute in her slim copper hands. It looked thicker than any flute that John had seen, though, and it was not silver metal but some rich reddish wood. Near the mouthpiece, a little bird jutted up, held in place by a narrow strip of leather. Ash breathed through the flute, a wavering call like birdsong, like canyon winds.
John couldn't bear to interrupt. Instead he listened silently. He moved through a series of slow stretches, waking up his body. Around them the landscape began to come alive, insects flitting through the brush. The place was surprisingly green for a desert, not the yellows and browns that John had expected.
The air brightened around them, gradually revealing more colours, bits of flower and leaf and stone. A blue bottlecap shone in the sand. John leaned down absently to pick it up. The sky turned from peach to orange. The purple clouds kindled to a hot pink.
When the first golden splinter of sunlight pierced the shadows, the flute greeted it with a shrill crescendo that sent sparrows fluttering out of a small tree. The top arc of the sun appeared. Eyes watering, John had to look away.
He found Ash watching him, flute balanced gracefully across her knees. "I like to greet the sun in the morning, when I can," she said.
"Good habit," John said with a nod. He skimmed through his own memories of morning habits, from the tension of the army to the relative peace of Baker Street, and realised that he liked this better. Clear air and a flute's cry, with no particular obligation to say anything until one felt like it.
"How is Sherlock this morning?" Ash asked.
"He'll not wake up for a while yet, I think," John said. "Thanks again for putting us up."
"It's no trouble," Ash said. She uncurled her legs and slid off the rock. "Shall we see about getting some breakfast?"
"That would be delightful," John said, falling into step behind her.
[To be continued in Part 3 ...]
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Date: 2014-03-09 06:34 pm (UTC)Vivid,this.
Thank you!
Date: 2014-03-10 04:52 am (UTC)