sharp as a tack and twice as quick (juleskicks) wrote in weekend_battle,
sharp as a tack and twice as quick
juleskicks
weekend_battle

Week 2 Prompt

Okay, apologies for the weirdness (eg, the lack of any challenge last weekend and the lateness of this one -- again, we'll go until Tuesday; in fact, maybe I'll just make it Friday through Tuesday instead of Thursday through Monday).

This week's challenge: haiku ficlets!

The haiku is a Japanese poetic form which is, most simply, three lines: the first five syllables, the second seven, and the third five. Further, however, the haiku contains seasonal words -- not necessarily just the names of the four seasons, but clues which give the time away (harvest, blossoms, snow, cicadas, for example). The focus is on sensory experience -- there is rarely, if ever, abstract language in a haiku.

The haiku ficlet has the same rules for content -- concrete sensory imagery rather than abstract references to emotions or concepts, seasonal clues. It's structured as three paragraphs: the first fifty words, the second seventy, and the third fifty.

Have fun!
Tags: prompts, week 2
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[Note: The Sable Knot, the 'verse in which this ficlet is set, is an early-20thC AU RPF 'verse.]

Nathan brings supper, and clears everything up for her afterwards, too; she's trained him well, she guesses, or someone has, at least. How delightfully hedonistic, she thinks as she sits against the window, the little plate with the cheesecake on it forgotten beside her. The pane is frigid and frosted.

He kneels beside her after he's cleared everything up. Obedient, Nathan is endlessly obedient, and quiet as a whisper when she tells him to be so. It's London, partly, Sarah guesses -- he's not used to it. After all, she typically leaves him up North when she goes down to Town. Winter's not as fierce down here -- the snow falling this evening is a rarity the past few years.

Pulling her shawl more tightly about the soft tea gown, she looks down at him at last. Feels a smile pull at her mouth, and she reaches down to stroke his temple with a single finger. "Aren't you cold, Nathan?" she asks, and is pleased to see his eyelashes flutter.

Set after episode 3.22(Z'ha'dum.) am not sure it fits the requirements. Seasons are hard in space!

Susan took to walking quietly through the gardens at night. The artificial light felt nothing like the sun on her face, though flowers around her bloomed nonetheless. She looked upwards reflexively as if to feel the sun on her face and remembered the explosion and how he had nearly died.

It was the start of a new year, and it would probably be snowing in Susan’s hometown. As a child she had always run outside at the first sight of falling flakes, letting them land and melt her body, chilling her skin, as if they would bury her. She imagined his body, buried under the snow-white ash of nuclear fallout, though she knew there would be no body to bury.

After the warmth of the gardens the slight chill in her quarters was a relief and she almost regretted the burning heat of the vodka sliding down her throat. She got ready for bed, then sunk into the couch, her toes cold and almost numb as she poured another drink.
The leaves on the tree in front of his house began to yellow and droop; Ian knew it was time for another series. He called his agent who sent him the usual contract. He lingered on Paul’s number in his phonebook; once this was the sign to start talking again.

It seemed the times between series always used to drag on forever. Endless long days, sweating in his office, trying to work, too often finding himself staring out the window at the cloudless sky, tap, tap, tapping his pen on the desk. Or the other half of the year, wearing three jumpers and shivering, walking to the station in the dark, thinking, I could just get on the tube instead.

Now Ian rushed along the frozen streets to get the last train, only aware at the last minute that Paul had walked into the station two minutes after him, heading for the tube. They stared at each other across the barriers. Paul tugged his coat around him and walked away.
Set during Runaways v2 #10, right before Nico sees She-Hulk.

Nico shoved her hands in her pockets, trying to get some warmth back in them. Chase, despite all of his complaining earlier, seemed fine- he was even humming a song under his breath, seemingly unaffected by the fact that he was in New York City. She couldn’t say the same.

“Karolina would like it here,” he said unexpectedly, looking at everything but her. She smiled and blinked- if he asked, she was trying to get the snowflakes off, and not trying to not cry. Chase was looking straight in front of him though, but Nico knew he was right. Karolina would have loved NYC, even if it meant walking around in a t-shirt and jeans. Chase turned his head away.

“Yeah,” she replied, although she didn’t need to. They continued walking on, trying to not get run over by other people- California didn’t seem as crowded anymore. “Yeah, she would have.” She fell silent, kicking at the snow as she walked. Her head snapped up at the flash of green.
"Well?" Cassie asks, turning around for them. She has to wear the corset for some Themysciran ritual. It's red, of course; goes under her special ceremonial armor. Her hair is done up in some kinda weird style, all tight curls with red ribbons and stuff. He wants to touch it.

Kon can only gape. He's glad to see, from the corner of his eye, that Tim's been likewise affected. The Tower is always swallowed by fog this time of year and day, and there's nothing but white outside the window; it's like being alone in the world, maybe the universe. Cassie's blushing a little. He stands, can't help himself, reaches for one of the ribbons in her hair. It's hypnotic.

It's done up tightly, he can feel that much when he puts his hands on her waist. Her skin is almost bursting out of it, and she slows down -- and them too -- after she almost faints. She's panting, her face nearly red enough to match the corset now.
Sora’s nearly asleep by the time the other two reach him, despite the sand in his hair and clothes and his darkening skin. He looks so content that Kairi is tempted to leave him alone, and find something else for her and Riku to do. Still, her hand reaches out.

Riku is not as subtle, and plops down in the sand next to Sora, nudging him. She smiles as Sora opens his eyes, squinting in the sun. They smile at each other, happy to be home, to be alive, to be together. It’s rare that she feels like she’s intruding on them, but she feels like she needs to leave. Then Sora turns and smiles at her, happy and warm.

She lays down on the other side of Sora, cuddling in close. She lays her hand on his chest, grateful for the thump of his heart. Riku’s hand rests on top of hers, but that’s not good enough- she clasps their fingers together, letting the heat lull her to sleep.