due South snippet: "Stay"
Oct. 26th, 2011 11:56 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
luzulaTitle: Stay
Pairing: unrequited teenage Fraser/Smithbauer
Rating: PG
Length: 300 words
Prompt: chill (it was also inspired by "channel" and "craft")
Summary: Some fly south for the winter, and some stay.
Notes: For the snippet tag at![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
dsc6dsnippets. Thank you kindly to malnpudl for the beta! There's a lovely Swedish word I wanted to use for the title (stannfågel) but it didn't translate well. There's just no poetry in "sedentary bird". *sigh*
Benton drifted in his canoe on the wide and slow waters of the Mackenzie, only dipping a paddle now and then into the murky water to steer. It was chilly, and mist was rising from the river.
He'd have to turn back soon, and then there would be homework and chores, though he didn't really mind those. He just wanted to be alone.
Benton propped his chin on his hands and stared out over the water. It was a lovely view, even if it failed to cheer him. The sunset had turned the western sky a delicate pink, and in the rich light, the birch leaves glowed like gold, and not the pale and plain yellow they really were. No waterfowl disturbed the river with their sociable squabbling--they had all flown south already.
Like Mark, Benton thought, and then scolded himself for being maudlin. It wasn't like Mark cared, anyway. Mark never had cared, not like Benton had.
He glanced at the fishing gear he'd brought along. He'd said he was going fishing, and he might as well, if only so he wouldn't make a liar of himself.
Benton watched the float bob. He'd dreamed of being drafted along with Mark, going south to play beside him. They'd be famous, win games for their team. Benton felt his cheeks burning. What, and live happily ever after?
No fish took the bait, and the sun set. Benton started back, paddling strongly against the current to get warm. No matter his dreams, he knew his place was here. His grandparents had taken him in and cared for him, but they were growing old, and would need him soon.
No, he wasn't like the geese, to fly south. He was more like the ptarmigan, that stayed in the north all winter long.
Pairing: unrequited teenage Fraser/Smithbauer
Rating: PG
Length: 300 words
Prompt: chill (it was also inspired by "channel" and "craft")
Summary: Some fly south for the winter, and some stay.
Notes: For the snippet tag at
dsc6dsnippets. Thank you kindly to malnpudl for the beta! There's a lovely Swedish word I wanted to use for the title (stannfågel) but it didn't translate well. There's just no poetry in "sedentary bird". *sigh*Benton drifted in his canoe on the wide and slow waters of the Mackenzie, only dipping a paddle now and then into the murky water to steer. It was chilly, and mist was rising from the river.
He'd have to turn back soon, and then there would be homework and chores, though he didn't really mind those. He just wanted to be alone.
Benton propped his chin on his hands and stared out over the water. It was a lovely view, even if it failed to cheer him. The sunset had turned the western sky a delicate pink, and in the rich light, the birch leaves glowed like gold, and not the pale and plain yellow they really were. No waterfowl disturbed the river with their sociable squabbling--they had all flown south already.
Like Mark, Benton thought, and then scolded himself for being maudlin. It wasn't like Mark cared, anyway. Mark never had cared, not like Benton had.
He glanced at the fishing gear he'd brought along. He'd said he was going fishing, and he might as well, if only so he wouldn't make a liar of himself.
Benton watched the float bob. He'd dreamed of being drafted along with Mark, going south to play beside him. They'd be famous, win games for their team. Benton felt his cheeks burning. What, and live happily ever after?
No fish took the bait, and the sun set. Benton started back, paddling strongly against the current to get warm. No matter his dreams, he knew his place was here. His grandparents had taken him in and cared for him, but they were growing old, and would need him soon.
No, he wasn't like the geese, to fly south. He was more like the ptarmigan, that stayed in the north all winter long.
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(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-26 12:05 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-27 08:47 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-26 03:19 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2011-10-26 04:33 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2011-10-27 01:28 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-27 08:50 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-27 01:57 am (UTC)(And isn't it funny how some words just don't translate emotionally?)
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-27 08:53 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-30 04:23 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-30 08:13 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-11-03 11:10 pm (UTC)Really, so sad, and gorgeous writing as always.
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Date: 2011-11-05 10:43 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-26 02:47 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-27 08:53 am (UTC)