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toffeecat) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fan_flashworks2017-04-23 03:11 pm
toffeecat) wrote in fan_flashworks2017-04-23 03:11 pm
Entry tags:
Comfort, Doorway, Voice: Transistor: Fanfiction: Island of Respite
Title: Island of Respite
Fandom: Transistor
Characters: Red, The Transistor
Rating: G
Length: 320
Content Notes: no warnings apply
Author's Notes: originally written for the Doorway challenge, but it is also influenced by Comfort and Voice.
Summary: It does not belong to Sybil anymore; it is her own now.
"Red?"
She hums in response, the Transistor's light shining onto her arm, dangling over the edge of the hammock. This Sandbox... It's a place of quiet, somehow left untouched by the all-consuming Process. In here, she seems to float, seems to be weightless, hiding from everything that has happened in Cloudbank; a much needed reprieve from everything out there.
She has grown used to this, even has begun to need this, all but running towards one of the Backdoors leading here, whenever she spotted one. The relief that washes over her each time is almost worth it one its own.
"Think we're getting closer?"
Red shrugs, as much as one can when wrapped into the soft embrace of the hammock. Something rolls against her hand, and she smiles; she lazily twirls the ball beneath her with the tips of her fingers, before she pushes it back again. Luna's excited bark briefly drowns the music drifting through the air. Her music.
She has stopped wondering about how Sybil has made this place long ago. It does not belong to Sybil anymore; it is her own now.
"Yeah. Figured."
She hums again, still smiling. Every moment now they have to get back out, press on, and she knows the longer she delays, the less time they will have. But... Will she find another Backdoor, when the way ahead has been claimed by the Process already?
Then Red hears a voice, her voice, and it has been so long since she heard herself speak, much less sing... And she knows. She cannot hide in this pocket forever, even though, sometimes, she wishes she could; not as long as she doesn't forget what happens outside of it.
She gets up, picking up the Transistor, and petting Luna on her way to the door. One final, longing look towards the hammock, towards her place of respite, towards her Sandbox, before she pushes through the Backdoor.
Fandom: Transistor
Characters: Red, The Transistor
Rating: G
Length: 320
Content Notes: no warnings apply
Author's Notes: originally written for the Doorway challenge, but it is also influenced by Comfort and Voice.
Summary: It does not belong to Sybil anymore; it is her own now.
"Red?"
She hums in response, the Transistor's light shining onto her arm, dangling over the edge of the hammock. This Sandbox... It's a place of quiet, somehow left untouched by the all-consuming Process. In here, she seems to float, seems to be weightless, hiding from everything that has happened in Cloudbank; a much needed reprieve from everything out there.
She has grown used to this, even has begun to need this, all but running towards one of the Backdoors leading here, whenever she spotted one. The relief that washes over her each time is almost worth it one its own.
"Think we're getting closer?"
Red shrugs, as much as one can when wrapped into the soft embrace of the hammock. Something rolls against her hand, and she smiles; she lazily twirls the ball beneath her with the tips of her fingers, before she pushes it back again. Luna's excited bark briefly drowns the music drifting through the air. Her music.
She has stopped wondering about how Sybil has made this place long ago. It does not belong to Sybil anymore; it is her own now.
"Yeah. Figured."
She hums again, still smiling. Every moment now they have to get back out, press on, and she knows the longer she delays, the less time they will have. But... Will she find another Backdoor, when the way ahead has been claimed by the Process already?
Then Red hears a voice, her voice, and it has been so long since she heard herself speak, much less sing... And she knows. She cannot hide in this pocket forever, even though, sometimes, she wishes she could; not as long as she doesn't forget what happens outside of it.
She gets up, picking up the Transistor, and petting Luna on her way to the door. One final, longing look towards the hammock, towards her place of respite, towards her Sandbox, before she pushes through the Backdoor.