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tampered2009-07-30 01:23 am
audiens.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2009-07-30 01:23 am
LOG; ONGOING
When; Wednesday night, July 29, roughly 8:30 PM
Rating; G-PG?
Characters; Noise Marie (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
audiens) & Allen Walker (isabeansprout)
Summary; Miranda's departure from the City is rather badly timed.
Log;
Given her nature, it was not actually a surprise that Miranda had produced a birthday present. Even recognizing that, Marie could not help but feel touched. But that was natural, wasn't it? More worrying was her insistence on feeling grateful toward him, as if she was somehow in his debt. But he could worry about that after receiving his present, couldn't he?
Leaving Kanda to his meditation, Marie set out to Miranda's apartment, adjusting his headphones, navigating the city streets with satisfactory ease. The ticking was simply one more sound, among thousands, much as it remained impervious to his fine-tuning.
Stopping outside her apartment, he raised his hand and knocked. Dropped it and waited. There was always noise coming from the adjacent flat. As much as that sort of chaos could produce an easy headache, it also served as a source of comfort. It reminded him of the Order, his home of near a decade. In those walls there had been no quiet- but then, there was no such thing as true silence. Not really. He fiddled with a knob, seeking Timothy or Allen, and it was only when he'd located the latter that he realized a minute had passed without an answer of any kind from Miranda.
Turning the dials again, Marie listened. Running water. An actual clock ticking. Fine-tuned further. And further. But no matter how hard he listened, Marie couldn't hear a heartbeat. The sound of the water was a rush, splashing and overflowing and soaking. His breath caught. When the door knob turned beneath his hand and the door swung in, he didn't pause before running inside.
"Miranda?" He asked, then, a shout, "Miranda!"
The difficulty with relying on sound: silence wasn't golden, it wasn't peaceful. It was wrong, unnatural, abnormal. Silence was dead. Experience favored that over the easily forgotten City departure. There were enemies in the City. Or she'd hit her head and fallen in the tub and-- that was too ridiculous.
But there he was storming toward the bathroom, tearing open the door, water flooding out around his ankles.
"MIRANDA," (but if she were alive, or there, he would hear, so what was he doing?), only he couldn't hear, and he reached blindly into the water.
Rating; G-PG?
Characters; Noise Marie (
audiens) & Allen Walker (isabeansprout)Summary; Miranda's departure from the City is rather badly timed.
Log;
Given her nature, it was not actually a surprise that Miranda had produced a birthday present. Even recognizing that, Marie could not help but feel touched. But that was natural, wasn't it? More worrying was her insistence on feeling grateful toward him, as if she was somehow in his debt. But he could worry about that after receiving his present, couldn't he?
Leaving Kanda to his meditation, Marie set out to Miranda's apartment, adjusting his headphones, navigating the city streets with satisfactory ease. The ticking was simply one more sound, among thousands, much as it remained impervious to his fine-tuning.
Stopping outside her apartment, he raised his hand and knocked. Dropped it and waited. There was always noise coming from the adjacent flat. As much as that sort of chaos could produce an easy headache, it also served as a source of comfort. It reminded him of the Order, his home of near a decade. In those walls there had been no quiet- but then, there was no such thing as true silence. Not really. He fiddled with a knob, seeking Timothy or Allen, and it was only when he'd located the latter that he realized a minute had passed without an answer of any kind from Miranda.
Turning the dials again, Marie listened. Running water. An actual clock ticking. Fine-tuned further. And further. But no matter how hard he listened, Marie couldn't hear a heartbeat. The sound of the water was a rush, splashing and overflowing and soaking. His breath caught. When the door knob turned beneath his hand and the door swung in, he didn't pause before running inside.
"Miranda?" He asked, then, a shout, "Miranda!"
The difficulty with relying on sound: silence wasn't golden, it wasn't peaceful. It was wrong, unnatural, abnormal. Silence was dead. Experience favored that over the easily forgotten City departure. There were enemies in the City. Or she'd hit her head and fallen in the tub and-- that was too ridiculous.
But there he was storming toward the bathroom, tearing open the door, water flooding out around his ankles.
"MIRANDA," (but if she were alive, or there, he would hear, so what was he doing?), only he couldn't hear, and he reached blindly into the water.