bjornwilde (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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ways_back_room2015-01-16 06:04 am
bjornwilde) wrote in ways_back_room2015-01-16 06:04 am
Entry tags:
DE: Truth or dare
Two options for this Friday, both based on the dangerous game of truth or dare. Be sure to note which you'd like to plat.
Option One: In character truth or dare
1- Tag in with a pup or list you'd like to play with
2- Get a request for either a truth or receive a dare (don't forget to tag others with truths or dares)
3- Answer in character, perhaps using dares as EP ideas
Option Two: Truth or dare fic meme
1- Tag in with a pup or list you'd like to play with
2- Get a request for truth or receive a dare (don't forget to tag others with truths or dares)
3- Write a fic, however long, based on what you get
Option One: In character truth or dare
1- Tag in with a pup or list you'd like to play with
2- Get a request for either a truth or receive a dare (don't forget to tag others with truths or dares)
3- Answer in character, perhaps using dares as EP ideas
Option Two: Truth or dare fic meme
1- Tag in with a pup or list you'd like to play with
2- Get a request for truth or receive a dare (don't forget to tag others with truths or dares)
3- Write a fic, however long, based on what you get
D:
....she is sad. He has made her sad.
He swallows hard, thinking desperately. 'If you wish-'
But he cannot ask for truth, and he cannot think of any dare he would be able to do.
'-another round.'
Please say no, please say no, please say no...
HOW IS IT THAT YOU MAKE ME FEEL AWFUL FOR VALJEAN WHEN I ANGLED FOR THIS.
She wishes he did. Never mind the game, but she wishes he would tell her something, tell her anything--
She smiles at him. "If it's not fun, that's all right, that's fine. I'll just dare you now to pick something you want to eat with tea. There, you shan't deny me. I insist."
I AM SORRY. HE IS A SAD PANDA. D:
But there is nothing else he can add to that. She is right, he does not wish to at all.
It is for her own good.
He rallies enough to manage a smile.
'Some cake then. That would be enjoyable.'
He will make sure Bar provides her favourite.
THE VERY SADDEST OF PANDAS.
She serves the cake and pours the tea, when it comes, and chatters a bit about Bar and food and other light nothings.
But still --
But now the thought of asking, of breaking all the silent rules and just plainly asking questions, has come to her, and it won't be silenced. There's a small rebellious part of her heart, and it's been roused; determination grows as she chatters and then falls silent, as she sips tea and watches her papa's fork to make sure he eats.
She waits until she's seen him eat the last of his share. Then, eyes on her fork as it presses against the last crumbs on her plate: "Papa, how did you meet my mother?"
It comes out in a rush, and it's still softened from what she meant to ask: she wanted to ask how he knew her. But she very nearly didn't nerve herself up to ask at all. She watches her fork: the silver tines, the soft dark crumbs, the cross-hatching like a gardener's mat as she presses down.
THE VERY SCAREDEST OF PANDAS.
'Cosette, it is so long ago I hardly remember.'
Half of this is true. He thinks about deflecting the question by saying her mother would remember better, but that would lead to difficulties about the real Fauchelevent.
GOD THESE TWO.
She watches her fork against the crumbs. Press one direction; press the other, aligned as exactly as she can, so the lines cross like good weaving. The cake crumbs are slowly melding into paste. The light glitters off the silver, each tine tipped with a point like a little star.
She won't cry. He doesn't want to tell her anything; well, that's that.
THEY ARE THE WORST. Or in this case, Valjean is. D:
So, he says nothing. It is the way it must be.