||[Nov. 14th, 2006|08:50 am]
Weekly Adverb Drabbles
Title: Spoke a Novel
Fandom (if any): Remington and Arcadia (mien novel)
It was odd, that anyone could walk so eloquently. Volumes were expressed in her light step, the way her feet hardly seemed to touch the ground. Everything Arcadia did was, in essence, writing. Her entire body, her movements and simple existence seemed to drip with such rich language that Remington was forced to wonder how she ever got it all onto paper. How could such thick, decadent, silent words be distilled into harsh ink on paper, and still make any sense?
“Remington,” she spoke a novel, one autumn day. “Why don’t you write?”
He had to pause before answering. Finally, he shrugged. “I don’t have to. You’ve done it for me.”
Fandom: Remington and Arcadia
Linda spoke so eloquently of gritty politics, her face serene, blonde hair gleaming in the slanted autumn sunlight. She quoted Marx and Machiavelli so fluidly, with such natural grace and ease, that by the time Remington caught the reference she was already on to her next point. She gracefully sliced capitalism apart, dissecting the world around them with sharp, precise, smooth words. Arthur watched her talk with a soppy expression, and it made Remington want to argue against her, even though he agreed with every point she made.
Finally, he could take no more. Remington made his excuses, and walked home from the café alone, leaving his best friend to stare at this stranger, while she elegantly stripped away every notion of truth from the world.