And it tastes delicious! Probably he wiggles his ass when he cooks, but then again, when doesn't Brendon. <3
Of course it would have snow angels! And all the most absolutely cliched things about winter, and Z would wear a black scarf, and Tennessee would wear a tie-dyed one (is it possible to tie-dye wool? I don't think so! But whatever) and tease her about her colourlessness and throw the ends of her own colourful scarf on Z's head.
AND I WILL TELL YOU WHAT HAPPENS NEXT.
Tennessee makes soup, and she wakes Z up to drink it. Z acquiesces quietly, and later the questions come, from Tenn: who are you? where do you come from? do you need to contact your family members? before eventually gathering that she'd been involved in a one-person hiking trip inspired by Into the Wild and had gotten lost, or run out of rations, or all three, and had tripped and fallen.
"I always intended to return," Z says earnestly. "I just lost my way, that's all."
Tenn's not quite sure if she should believe this strange girl with cold skin (here she hurries to get yet another blanket) and bright eyes, but she says nothing. When she calls the hospital again and describes Z's condition they say all is well and that she should be ok, so Z stays put, because outside the snow is piling in. (Tennessee doesn't think about the fact that Z will be right here, intruding on her self-imposed hermitude, until a thaw happens.)
Z gets stronger slowly, and progresses even to doing tiny errands around the house for Tennessee. It's nice. Tennessee'd forgotten how much she likes human company, even though most days she could go without it, how nice to know that she hasn't lost her voice yet, how nice to speak absently and have someone reply, how nice to have someone else in the house with her.
The days soon settle into a rhythm. Z's like a cat -- she doesn't sleep many hours at one go, but naps intermittently. This is good for Tennessee because the cabin is quiet most of the day and punctuated only by the sound of Z's breathing. And when Tennessee crawls into bed, she might wake up to breakfast that Z's clearly been awake for a while, to prepare.
One day, when Z's sleeping, Tennessee puts some Kate Bush on and dances thoughtfully and silently and carefully around the cluttered room, her hair whirling around the place.
When she looks over at the bed she finds Z sitting up in bed, her eyes wide and fingers clutching the bedspread, light from the fire flickering in her eyes. Tennessee coughs.
"Sorry, did I --" she clears her throat. "Did I wake you?"
no subject
Of course it would have snow angels! And all the most absolutely cliched things about winter, and Z would wear a black scarf, and Tennessee would wear a tie-dyed one (is it possible to tie-dye wool? I don't think so! But whatever) and tease her about her colourlessness and throw the ends of her own colourful scarf on Z's head.
AND I WILL TELL YOU WHAT HAPPENS NEXT.
Tennessee makes soup, and she wakes Z up to drink it. Z acquiesces quietly, and later the questions come, from Tenn: who are you? where do you come from? do you need to contact your family members? before eventually gathering that she'd been involved in a one-person hiking trip inspired by Into the Wild and had gotten lost, or run out of rations, or all three, and had tripped and fallen.
"I always intended to return," Z says earnestly. "I just lost my way, that's all."
Tenn's not quite sure if she should believe this strange girl with cold skin (here she hurries to get yet another blanket) and bright eyes, but she says nothing. When she calls the hospital again and describes Z's condition they say all is well and that she should be ok, so Z stays put, because outside the snow is piling in. (Tennessee doesn't think about the fact that Z will be right here, intruding on her self-imposed hermitude, until a thaw happens.)
Z gets stronger slowly, and progresses even to doing tiny errands around the house for Tennessee. It's nice. Tennessee'd forgotten how much she likes human company, even though most days she could go without it, how nice to know that she hasn't lost her voice yet, how nice to speak absently and have someone reply, how nice to have someone else in the house with her.
The days soon settle into a rhythm. Z's like a cat -- she doesn't sleep many hours at one go, but naps intermittently. This is good for Tennessee because the cabin is quiet most of the day and punctuated only by the sound of Z's breathing. And when Tennessee crawls into bed, she might wake up to breakfast that Z's clearly been awake for a while, to prepare.
One day, when Z's sleeping, Tennessee puts some Kate Bush on and dances thoughtfully and silently and carefully around the cluttered room, her hair whirling around the place.
When she looks over at the bed she finds Z sitting up in bed, her eyes wide and fingers clutching the bedspread, light from the fire flickering in her eyes. Tennessee coughs.
"Sorry, did I --" she clears her throat. "Did I wake you?"
(Oh god, I really really need some Like icons.)