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executeThe two lovers reclined on the edge of the bridge, interlinked forearms resting on the rough, rusted rails stopping their holiday ending with a dunk in the Thames. Cameras flashed, squinty smiles aimed at the sun trying to break through the cloud cover (Would there be sunshine by the end of the day? Probably not, but that wouldn’t stop it adding a few premature crow’s feet to the traveller’s eyes).
Sometimes people would tut at them or just spit the word ‘tourists’ out under their breath, like it was a dirty word (in London, it usually is). Sometimes they’d openly stare, or scrunch up faces that peered out over starched suit collars and big winter coats, and shake their heads as they strode along past.
After a while, the lovers got bored of this, and so took themselves and their weakening smiles elsewhere. Even when the fine rain started up and they sat watching it in the safety of a cafe, the tarmac and cobbles glistening with oil and dirt and water, they didn’t fare much better. Waitresses stammered their orders. Their coffee arrived late. One of the couple had the distinct feeling they were being gossiped about, and told the other. Hadn’t they seen anything like them before, one of them asked?
They left.
By now the rain had thickened into spears of icy water and so the couple brought out a big umbrella, prettily patterned with the art from an exhibition they had visited earlier. They still held hands, and bumped faces together every hundred yards, basking in the bubble of young love, but this time there were no smiles and no kisses.
The next time they stopped to take photos of a beautiful statue crouched on top of some building or other, they heard a cough of jumbled words, and when they looked around there was nothing there.
After that, they didn’t stop walking.
Maybe a pub would be nice, one of them said to the other. An iconic experience, right? England was meant to be a melting pot, they said.
The other reluctantly agreed.
The first three pubs screamed unfriendliness and so they didn’t stop. After the fourth, it was getting dark, and they didn’t fancy their chances. They went to hail a taxi, but it took a while for them to get one to stop for them, even though they all had their lights on and the couple couldn’t see any passengers. When they got in the eleventh or so one they’d seen that evening the driver looked like he’d seen a ghost.
Later at their hotel room, the couple felt much safer. Maybe it was the weather, they thought. Maybe it was just being in a new city, on a new planet. That must have been why they felt so uneasy. They went to bed and set the alarm for 5’o clock in the morning, so they’d have time to cram in all the activities they had planned for tomorrow, their anniversary.
April 30th, 2062. This was going to be the best year yet.
I also signed up for the Homestuck Shipping Olympics. I got Cotton Candy! I would have thought that that ship would have gone faster (I recognise nearly all of the names for Jane<3Roxy, whereas for Jake<3Dirk or John<Karkat I recognise nearly none) but it still went pretty fast, so I'm indebted to Isidore for being my Resident USian. A lot of the ships surprised me, actually - ships I used to think were popular struggled to get members and I saw a few unconfirmed ones that I swear I've read fic after fic for on AO3.
I've updated Raising Heck, although I've hit somewhat of a stumbling block with that particular story. I really enjoy writing it, and I have the plot all mapped out and that's fine, but along with my procrastinating laziness I just can't seem to write the selkie couple, damnit.
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Date: 2012-05-17 12:28 am (UTC)Anyway! Yay another fic writer. :D Glad to have you onboard.