Life Is Pain
Oct. 21st, 2011 11:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deeperwondermentTitle: Life Is Pain
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
not_from_stars
Fandom: Primeval
Words: 1502
Characters: Taylor Craig
Summary: This was her own private ritual and she didn't feel like answering a bunch of nosy questions about it.
Author's Note: Written for the Hump Day Fest motivator: "Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something" at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
primeval_vsx.
Rating: PG
She always made sure to come out here after the sun went down. She didn't see anyone else in the cemetery after dark and it was right on one of the circuits she ran every few days. Besides, there was less of a chance that anyone would see her here after dark and question what she was doing. This was her own private ritual and she didn't feel like answering a bunch of nosy questions about it.
While it was true that she never ran into anyone, she was quick to notice the evidence that she wasn't the only one that came here. That knowledge made her feel better. It made her think that there were other people that cared about things that had been done. It made her believe that she wasn't the only one who cared or mourned.
The first place she always visited seemed to have the least amount of extra visitors and that made her sad sometimes. She remembered some things very clearly about him and she wondered if anyone had ever gotten past the armour she had recognized when she was younger. She supposed that she recognized it because she had her own version of it, but still. If her younger self had seen it, had anyone that he was close to seen it? Had anyone ever done anything about it, or had he been lost before they had had a chance?
She did her usual thing of brushing dirt and random bits of grass off of his headstone and then sat back to look at it for a few minutes. She never really talked here, she had never felt the need to. It was like she could be quiet with her thoughts and somehow he understood all of the things she didn't say. Most of her friends would say that she was daft for those thoughts, but then again, they hadn't seen what she had seen. They hadn't lived through what she had lived through.
Before finally leaving, she made a small hole at the base of the headstone and dropped something into it. Then she covered it in and patted the ground back into place -- just like always. No one would be able to tell that any of the ground had been disturbed and more importantly, no one would be tempted to steal what she left for him. Today's tribute was a small piece of amber she had come across. It was darker than the usual specimens and for some reason it had made her think of him. It seemed right that it was what she left for him on this visit.
She kissed the tips of two of her fingers and laid them against the stone, before she put her hands in her pockets and continued on with her walk.
By the time she had left the first one and made it to her next destination, the stars were already starting to come out. The darkness didn't bother her and she pulled out the votive candle from her pocket. She sat it down on the grave, in front of the stone, before she lit it and let the light from the candle's flame dispel a small circle of darkness. The candle for him was another part of her private ritual and she never forgot to bring one for him when she came here. Tonight, the scent was spearmint and she could taste the sharpness of the scent in the air.
She sat down quietly, looking at the words on the headstone by the light of the candle. There were things to tell him, but she wasn't even sure where to start tonight. Tonight... tonight it was different. Tonight it was the eve of the anniversary of what had happened to him. She never came on the exact day, it was too hard for her and she didn't want to run into anyone else who might visit him that day. Besides, it would be like she was intruding on grief that they didn't know she shared, and her grief was a private thing.
She pulled her knees up and rested her chin on them as she started talking to him.
"The exam wasn't as difficult as everyone said it was going to be," she murmured quietly. "Half of my class was having a meltdown because the professor was supposed to be a hard case when it came to things like this and I was finished with it in less than half an hour. Then again, I don't believe anyone in the class had memorized the anatomy of a scorpion before they were fifteen, either. Have I mentioned yet that I don't understand why some of these people are taking the course? Because, really, some of my fellow classmates are morons and I have no idea why they're in any kind of science course, much less a paleo class." She shrugged. "I only missed one item on the exam and I argued the point with the professor. I have a feeling that he will be changing my grade when he does his research. He should have known that there are one hundred and eleven fossil species of scorpion and not one hundred and nine. It is his job to know that, right?" She shook her head. "I don't think you would like this professor. He really doesn't seem to get any enjoyment from his work."
That wasn't anything that she hadn't told him hundreds of times since she started school at the university. It still surprised her, sometimes, to find people in a profession that they didn't enjoy.
"Da is doing pretty well," she said conversationally. "He still doesn't understand the things I talk about from my classes, but he listens to me. I know that he cares about what I like doing, so I don't have a problem answering the same questions over and over again for him. I think he uses that knowledge to impress people at his job. He loves having a daughter that knows all kinds of big college words."
She went quiet for a few minutes, just listening to the sounds of the night and watching the shadows that the flame of the candle was casting on the headstone.
"I talked to her a few days ago, you know," she said, watching the flame. "I think she's always a little surprised to hear from me, but maybe it's because I have continued to keep in contact with her all of these years and I talk to her about other things besides you and what I'm planning. I guess she doesn't know what to make of me sometimes, but she's a nice lady and I like her. She seemed happy when I was talking to her this time. I hope she is, because if there was anyone besides you and him I would want to be happy, it's her. She deserves it after everything, and I bet you would agree."
One of her feet moved silently against the ground. "You're going to be annoyed, but I looked for her ... for Helen. There's nothing on any of the servers about her and nothing on the other sites I pay attention to. It's like she disappeared into thin air after what she did to you. I need to find her or what happened to her, though. If I'm going to work on continuing your work and your research, I would rather not have to worry about her suddenly showing up and having a massive psychotic fit on me, you know?" She sighed. "I mean, she killed you and Stephen, so what would be one more teenage girl?" She lifted her eyes to his tombstone. "I know that we have this conversation all of the time, but you weren't supposed to die, Professor. You promised me that I could come work with you after I was done with school, but then you died and I'm having to try to figure out all of these things by myself."
She looked at her watch and then frowned. "I have to go, Professor. I have a competition tomorrow and my coach will go nuts if I don't beat my practice time. He'll start in on me with Taylor, Taylor, Taylor, Taylor! What are you doing, knitting instead of training? My mother can run faster than that." She shook her head. "He's kind of a tool, but he's the coach so I have to put up with it for awhile." She leaned over to blow out the candle and then got to her feet, bringing the still warm ball of wax with her. She reached into her pocket to pull out tonight's offering and set it carefully on his headstone. "Take care, Professor Cutter. I'll be back to see you soon."
She looked at his headstone for another moment before touching the top of it gently. Then, pulling her hood back up over her head, she turned and headed toward the exit of the cemetery.
Author:
not_from_starsFandom: Primeval
Words: 1502
Characters: Taylor Craig
Summary: This was her own private ritual and she didn't feel like answering a bunch of nosy questions about it.
Author's Note: Written for the Hump Day Fest motivator: "Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something" at
primeval_vsx.Rating: PG
She always made sure to come out here after the sun went down. She didn't see anyone else in the cemetery after dark and it was right on one of the circuits she ran every few days. Besides, there was less of a chance that anyone would see her here after dark and question what she was doing. This was her own private ritual and she didn't feel like answering a bunch of nosy questions about it.
While it was true that she never ran into anyone, she was quick to notice the evidence that she wasn't the only one that came here. That knowledge made her feel better. It made her think that there were other people that cared about things that had been done. It made her believe that she wasn't the only one who cared or mourned.
The first place she always visited seemed to have the least amount of extra visitors and that made her sad sometimes. She remembered some things very clearly about him and she wondered if anyone had ever gotten past the armour she had recognized when she was younger. She supposed that she recognized it because she had her own version of it, but still. If her younger self had seen it, had anyone that he was close to seen it? Had anyone ever done anything about it, or had he been lost before they had had a chance?
She did her usual thing of brushing dirt and random bits of grass off of his headstone and then sat back to look at it for a few minutes. She never really talked here, she had never felt the need to. It was like she could be quiet with her thoughts and somehow he understood all of the things she didn't say. Most of her friends would say that she was daft for those thoughts, but then again, they hadn't seen what she had seen. They hadn't lived through what she had lived through.
Before finally leaving, she made a small hole at the base of the headstone and dropped something into it. Then she covered it in and patted the ground back into place -- just like always. No one would be able to tell that any of the ground had been disturbed and more importantly, no one would be tempted to steal what she left for him. Today's tribute was a small piece of amber she had come across. It was darker than the usual specimens and for some reason it had made her think of him. It seemed right that it was what she left for him on this visit.
She kissed the tips of two of her fingers and laid them against the stone, before she put her hands in her pockets and continued on with her walk.
By the time she had left the first one and made it to her next destination, the stars were already starting to come out. The darkness didn't bother her and she pulled out the votive candle from her pocket. She sat it down on the grave, in front of the stone, before she lit it and let the light from the candle's flame dispel a small circle of darkness. The candle for him was another part of her private ritual and she never forgot to bring one for him when she came here. Tonight, the scent was spearmint and she could taste the sharpness of the scent in the air.
She sat down quietly, looking at the words on the headstone by the light of the candle. There were things to tell him, but she wasn't even sure where to start tonight. Tonight... tonight it was different. Tonight it was the eve of the anniversary of what had happened to him. She never came on the exact day, it was too hard for her and she didn't want to run into anyone else who might visit him that day. Besides, it would be like she was intruding on grief that they didn't know she shared, and her grief was a private thing.
She pulled her knees up and rested her chin on them as she started talking to him.
"The exam wasn't as difficult as everyone said it was going to be," she murmured quietly. "Half of my class was having a meltdown because the professor was supposed to be a hard case when it came to things like this and I was finished with it in less than half an hour. Then again, I don't believe anyone in the class had memorized the anatomy of a scorpion before they were fifteen, either. Have I mentioned yet that I don't understand why some of these people are taking the course? Because, really, some of my fellow classmates are morons and I have no idea why they're in any kind of science course, much less a paleo class." She shrugged. "I only missed one item on the exam and I argued the point with the professor. I have a feeling that he will be changing my grade when he does his research. He should have known that there are one hundred and eleven fossil species of scorpion and not one hundred and nine. It is his job to know that, right?" She shook her head. "I don't think you would like this professor. He really doesn't seem to get any enjoyment from his work."
That wasn't anything that she hadn't told him hundreds of times since she started school at the university. It still surprised her, sometimes, to find people in a profession that they didn't enjoy.
"Da is doing pretty well," she said conversationally. "He still doesn't understand the things I talk about from my classes, but he listens to me. I know that he cares about what I like doing, so I don't have a problem answering the same questions over and over again for him. I think he uses that knowledge to impress people at his job. He loves having a daughter that knows all kinds of big college words."
She went quiet for a few minutes, just listening to the sounds of the night and watching the shadows that the flame of the candle was casting on the headstone.
"I talked to her a few days ago, you know," she said, watching the flame. "I think she's always a little surprised to hear from me, but maybe it's because I have continued to keep in contact with her all of these years and I talk to her about other things besides you and what I'm planning. I guess she doesn't know what to make of me sometimes, but she's a nice lady and I like her. She seemed happy when I was talking to her this time. I hope she is, because if there was anyone besides you and him I would want to be happy, it's her. She deserves it after everything, and I bet you would agree."
One of her feet moved silently against the ground. "You're going to be annoyed, but I looked for her ... for Helen. There's nothing on any of the servers about her and nothing on the other sites I pay attention to. It's like she disappeared into thin air after what she did to you. I need to find her or what happened to her, though. If I'm going to work on continuing your work and your research, I would rather not have to worry about her suddenly showing up and having a massive psychotic fit on me, you know?" She sighed. "I mean, she killed you and Stephen, so what would be one more teenage girl?" She lifted her eyes to his tombstone. "I know that we have this conversation all of the time, but you weren't supposed to die, Professor. You promised me that I could come work with you after I was done with school, but then you died and I'm having to try to figure out all of these things by myself."
She looked at her watch and then frowned. "I have to go, Professor. I have a competition tomorrow and my coach will go nuts if I don't beat my practice time. He'll start in on me with Taylor, Taylor, Taylor, Taylor! What are you doing, knitting instead of training? My mother can run faster than that." She shook her head. "He's kind of a tool, but he's the coach so I have to put up with it for awhile." She leaned over to blow out the candle and then got to her feet, bringing the still warm ball of wax with her. She reached into her pocket to pull out tonight's offering and set it carefully on his headstone. "Take care, Professor Cutter. I'll be back to see you soon."
She looked at his headstone for another moment before touching the top of it gently. Then, pulling her hood back up over her head, she turned and headed toward the exit of the cemetery.
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no subject
Date: 2011-11-03 04:47 am (UTC)I love her so.