Hoffman called her, his mouth smiling, his eyes travelling.įrail, Miss Martha insisted. Four years older than Eleanor, but only five centimeters taller. It returned a moment later with a scratchy bit of fabric to dab at the blood crusted beneath Eleanor’s nose. “A fever,” Clara said, bluntly, her hand falling away from Eleanor’s forehead. She hadn’t eaten in a little over a day, but she could hardly be blamed for that - the slop Miss Martha prepared in the kitchen was unappetizing under the best of circumstances, which admittedly, these were not.īut a sore throat was hardly the end of the world. “I’m fine,” she lied, ignoring the low rumble in the hollow of her stomach. “It’s nothing,” she lied, voice thick with mucus.Ĭlara looked doubtful, but didn’t press the issue. The album I chose is “And No More Shall We Part” by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds.Īnd a pillowcase faded and frayed with age. Summary: Eleanor falls ill, and Clara tends to her.Ī/N:This story is part of a 14-part album fic challenge, in which each song from a single album will serve as inspiration for the story. A wet, strangled sound gurgled up in her throat, ghostly, broken laughter as she waited for her legs to stop trembling, fear peeling back to reveal the black core of exhaustion that pulsed within her like a second heart. Something like relief (but not quite, and not now, and maybe she wouldn’t recognize it even if it did come) unfurled inside of her, and she found herself slumping back against the wall, back against the chipped brick and the frayed rope, and the stained and tattered brown cloth that stretched and draped from building to building.
Rule of rose cry cracked#
No blood, at least, and here in the near-dark, amidst the cracked pavement and the broken glass, and the phantom moan of the calliope bleeding through the silence, that would have to do. She smoothed the fabric back down with unsteady hands.
Rule of rose cry skin#
Lifting her damp shirt, however, revealed only smooth skin and little constellations of bruises and scabbed chains of scratches. The ache in her side hurt entirely too much to be merely from running surely, she thought, in between ragged, gasping breaths, and desperate gulps of icy air, she’d been stabbed in the chaos? – “Sugar Sugar Sugar” by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds
Summary: Clara takes a strange bus to an even stranger town.
0 kommentar(er)
