veronicasleeps (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
veronicasleeps) wrote2011-03-04 11:46 am
veronicasleeps) wrote2011-03-04 11:46 am
Entry tags:
February Morning, White Collar, PG
Title: February Morning
Prompt: Tea
Author: veronicasleeps
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Neal, June(/Byron)
Word count: 300
Summary: Neal helps June celebrate a life lost.
Notes: I haven't been around much, but this has been nudging at me since monday. I'd love feedback. Also, I haven't caught up on White Collar yet (which all by itself says enough about the state of my mind) so I'll start reading and commenting on other people's stuff once I've done that.
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Neal loosens the knot on the shawl that covers June’s eyes but she keeps them closed.
She tries to take in the room without using her sight and the first thing that hits her is the smell. It’s nothing like the city, it's like open space and air and wood, and it reminds her of time gone past. There’s a faint trace of something else in there, herb and fresh, and she smiles. It’s the scent of tea. It’s the scent of Memories. It’s the scent of Byron.
“Do you like it?” Neal’s voice echoes and she opens her eyes. It’s surprising, what must have been a warehouse once now looks like a grand reproduction of an ancient east-asian palace and it makes her breath catch. “I asked around about what Byron liked, and all anyone talked about was his fascination with tea.”
He leads her over to the low table and helps her sink down on the cushion. She doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to reassure Neal that this is perfect, more than she has ever allowed herself to do for her husband. So much better than flowers and a visit to his grave, her breath a hot cloud on frozen february mornings, her tears hot liquid pain on her ice cold cheeks.
“It’s…” June swallows. “He would have loved it.”
And he would have. She can almost picture his grin, happy and slightly devious. He would have approved of this celebration of his life.
Neal smiles softly. With practiced hands he serves her the tea in almost perfect traditional gestures. “Yeah?” He takes his own cup in between his palms, and bows his head. “Tell me about him?”
June mirrors his smile and looks into the cloudy tea.
“He would have turned seventy-two today.”
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Prompt: Tea
Author: veronicasleeps
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Neal, June(/Byron)
Word count: 300
Summary: Neal helps June celebrate a life lost.
Notes: I haven't been around much, but this has been nudging at me since monday. I'd love feedback. Also, I haven't caught up on White Collar yet (which all by itself says enough about the state of my mind) so I'll start reading and commenting on other people's stuff once I've done that.
+
Neal loosens the knot on the shawl that covers June’s eyes but she keeps them closed.
She tries to take in the room without using her sight and the first thing that hits her is the smell. It’s nothing like the city, it's like open space and air and wood, and it reminds her of time gone past. There’s a faint trace of something else in there, herb and fresh, and she smiles. It’s the scent of tea. It’s the scent of Memories. It’s the scent of Byron.
“Do you like it?” Neal’s voice echoes and she opens her eyes. It’s surprising, what must have been a warehouse once now looks like a grand reproduction of an ancient east-asian palace and it makes her breath catch. “I asked around about what Byron liked, and all anyone talked about was his fascination with tea.”
He leads her over to the low table and helps her sink down on the cushion. She doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to reassure Neal that this is perfect, more than she has ever allowed herself to do for her husband. So much better than flowers and a visit to his grave, her breath a hot cloud on frozen february mornings, her tears hot liquid pain on her ice cold cheeks.
“It’s…” June swallows. “He would have loved it.”
And he would have. She can almost picture his grin, happy and slightly devious. He would have approved of this celebration of his life.
Neal smiles softly. With practiced hands he serves her the tea in almost perfect traditional gestures. “Yeah?” He takes his own cup in between his palms, and bows his head. “Tell me about him?”
June mirrors his smile and looks into the cloudy tea.
“He would have turned seventy-two today.”
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