Arrival [Tristan]
Oct 30, 2016 0:38:36 GMT -7
Post by Amy Doherty on Oct 30, 2016 0:38:36 GMT -7
White walls. White ceiling. Smooth brown wood for the frame of the bed, then a white mattress covered by a sheet checkered with black and white like a chessboard. White clothes, folded in a neat pile on one end of the bed. A light, turned off, and a window illuminating the room with the soft glow of daylight. Amy could see tiny fragments of dust dancing in the air, though she tried to ignore it. Better to try and figure out where she would put the lamp, where its rays would best illuminate what was soon to be her living space. She moved it around the room in her head, tracking where the light would go and where she would need it to see.
A dark spot caught her eye. A fly, sitting on one wall, tainting it. Frowning, she reached for a small box of tissues, picking one out and stepping towards the insect. She reached for it briskly but gently, from an angle where her shadow would not fall upon it, covering it with a thin white layer before it even knew she was there.
She crushed it from the sides, so that its fluids would not stain her walls.
The tissue was balled up and tossed in the wastepaper basket, the third one in the last hour. The room hadn't been used in a while, and there were still a few small inhabitants lurking about. She'd get them all within a couple days, though. The space was small, but it was clean and it was hers and she was safe here. The thought made her smile a little.
She'd insisted that Nora leave her to set it up herself, especially after the woman had generously helped carry her possessions up here with her. It wasn't much- only two boxes, but it had been help enough, and Amy didn't like to put unnecessary strain on her elders, especially not the one who was supposed to be her mother. She was growing up now, and that meant being responsible. That, and she doubted Nora would have the patience to work with her as she painstakingly cleaned up the space and laid out where everything was supposed to be.
That stage was mostly done by now. Wherever there was white, the white shone, pure and free of the thin layers of dust which had coated it upon her arrival. Amy had shifted the bed and the desk and all the other little bits and bobs where she wanted them to be, and had planned out exactly where she'd put the supplies she had yet to acquire. One box was emptied, folded up and placed neatly to one side. One had yet to be opened.
Never one for delaying, she walked over to it, cutting through the packing tape that held it sealed with a pair of scissors and pulling it open, breathing in the smells that emanated from its contents. Pencil and paper, ink and charcoal, pastel and paint. Dozens of rolled-up poster-sized papers, tied in place with small lengths of twine.
She took one, untying its bindings, unrolling it out on the floor where she could look upon it. A bird, small with a sharp beak, perched upon a thin branch, feathers of black and white carefully rendered in minute detail. She crouched, reflecting on it, trying to remember when she'd made this one. She'd need to put it up on the walls somewhere the light would shine on it during the daytime, it'd look prettier that way.
A noise made her stop, glancing over her shoulder with wide eyes. She'd left her door open, knowing that there were many other people living here and deciding it best if they knew someone was moving in, but she hadn't been disturbed so far. She could hear people moving around the house, but so far they'd largely kept away from her particular corridor, though whether this was out of chance or intention she could not know. She ought to go out and meet them, soon, but she wanted this room set up correctly before she made a move. It'd be easier to figure out the world around her once she had a place to start reaching out from.
A dark spot caught her eye. A fly, sitting on one wall, tainting it. Frowning, she reached for a small box of tissues, picking one out and stepping towards the insect. She reached for it briskly but gently, from an angle where her shadow would not fall upon it, covering it with a thin white layer before it even knew she was there.
She crushed it from the sides, so that its fluids would not stain her walls.
The tissue was balled up and tossed in the wastepaper basket, the third one in the last hour. The room hadn't been used in a while, and there were still a few small inhabitants lurking about. She'd get them all within a couple days, though. The space was small, but it was clean and it was hers and she was safe here. The thought made her smile a little.
She'd insisted that Nora leave her to set it up herself, especially after the woman had generously helped carry her possessions up here with her. It wasn't much- only two boxes, but it had been help enough, and Amy didn't like to put unnecessary strain on her elders, especially not the one who was supposed to be her mother. She was growing up now, and that meant being responsible. That, and she doubted Nora would have the patience to work with her as she painstakingly cleaned up the space and laid out where everything was supposed to be.
That stage was mostly done by now. Wherever there was white, the white shone, pure and free of the thin layers of dust which had coated it upon her arrival. Amy had shifted the bed and the desk and all the other little bits and bobs where she wanted them to be, and had planned out exactly where she'd put the supplies she had yet to acquire. One box was emptied, folded up and placed neatly to one side. One had yet to be opened.
Never one for delaying, she walked over to it, cutting through the packing tape that held it sealed with a pair of scissors and pulling it open, breathing in the smells that emanated from its contents. Pencil and paper, ink and charcoal, pastel and paint. Dozens of rolled-up poster-sized papers, tied in place with small lengths of twine.
She took one, untying its bindings, unrolling it out on the floor where she could look upon it. A bird, small with a sharp beak, perched upon a thin branch, feathers of black and white carefully rendered in minute detail. She crouched, reflecting on it, trying to remember when she'd made this one. She'd need to put it up on the walls somewhere the light would shine on it during the daytime, it'd look prettier that way.
A noise made her stop, glancing over her shoulder with wide eyes. She'd left her door open, knowing that there were many other people living here and deciding it best if they knew someone was moving in, but she hadn't been disturbed so far. She could hear people moving around the house, but so far they'd largely kept away from her particular corridor, though whether this was out of chance or intention she could not know. She ought to go out and meet them, soon, but she wanted this room set up correctly before she made a move. It'd be easier to figure out the world around her once she had a place to start reaching out from.