Linens and Orchestral Coffee

An abstract from a larger plot focusing on character description.

She was feathers. Cold, frosty feathers that lightly kissed the air with their being. Her chilled hair the taste of fresh snow, draping and sliding around her thin shoulder blades and rib cage. A being of pure movement, undulating breaths and bubbling life, but yet she made time stand still. A glance at her and all was weightless and clear, bright and in motion. Her intention was not of this nature.

A fierce intensity buried underneath the brilliantly silk of her skin. She was veiled in linens--thin, opaque linens that fogged the eyes from reality. For underneath the sweet snow lay a drumbeat, that of strength. Her gliding movements masked the rippling power they came with, and her slicing gaze was interpretable in several ways. The truth was, she was a mountain, hiding from view. She was a storm, rampant and consistent.

A hollow sound draining from the depths of navy and gray, depths that harbored shaded realities. Much like the keys on a piano, ringing with variety, her persona was the singular tinkling whites while her soul cuddled the dark bass chords.

She stirred her coffee, imagining the notes and inhaling the warm sound. She stirred as a composer, yet she more followed the dance of swirls in an orchestrated fashion. Her feet curled to her chest, she snuggled the warmth of clean socks to her legs as she perched upon a feasibly sturdy chair. Her posture was certain but relaxed, and her gaze was entranced with the moment in which she breathed. A strand of hair licked over her bare shoulder, flitting against the loose material of her cotton top. Every breath was paradoxical; cold on hot.

Her friend, another around her age, lapped up her own mug of coffee. With two in the picture, the concept expanded. The table grew out of the ground, wooden and decorated, waxed and clean. This new addition, but only to the eye of the beholder, was intriguing in a different sense. She was not snow, nor was she soft. She was vibrant, but reservedly so. Red upon tan, her hair gleamed with a stronger scent, tucked decidedly behind a pointed ear. Her intention, unlike her counterpart's, was immediately noticeable. She held herself in such a way that honesty seeped through her blood and flesh, and she sipped her steaming coffee easily, making no fuss at the temperature. A foot tucked under her and an arm resting on it for strength, she was a stronger presence, though just as intense as her friend.

She had a question, or a comment, that much was obvious, but instead of asking outright, she was taking her time and maneuvering her gaze about the white-haired one with patience. A sensory type, less reserved and more rational than the other, she brought a vibration of cellos to the mixing masterpiece that was the motion of life. Around her, the world sucked in some golds and greens, rosying the scene up a bit.

Her breath grew shorter for a second, and her mouth was removed from the mug, leaving a small hint of saliva on it, but her voice was stopped by my very own.

"Mai," I spoke, my own burgundy voice trailing amidst the moment and carrying dew-ridden life with it. "Do you suppose you have something to do today?"

The white-haired girl looked up at me from her seated position. "Nope," She replied calmly, swirling her coffee without looking at it. "I'd rather just do whatever I feel today."

"How purposeful." The red-haired one countered, placing her mug on the wooden centerpiece with a muffled thump. "You could join me in finding a place to build a meeting hall."

Mai stopped stirring her coffee, and the steam puffed up in a disorganized mass. She looked across the table at the offer. "Maybe I will. Who else is going?"

The red-haired girl, by the name of Rin, tucked a loose strand of aggravating hair behind her shapely ears and adjusted her colorful shirt. "Possibly a few others. Jorgenson and Rye might tag along."

I tapped my tea glass intermittently to test the scalding heat of my own mix of eucalyptus and mint. I was the earthy tone of the group, and my own awareness of my presence resulted in a sweet, pungent odor of nature and vivacious, exploding greens. Even the smell of dirt tasted bitterly delicious in my mouth, vaporing in from the gardens forming around us.

Something was missing. It was a burning absence, one of coals and high-pitched pleadings, but it wasn't cruel. No, it was a grieving absence, and it was heavy. We had great practice at ignoring it, but it was beneath us all the same.

She walked on her toes. A gazelle in stature. Her eyes were curious by nature, but lately, almost as gloomy as the hiss of fresh winter. At least they were, the last time I had seen her. Her mousy nose and springy spirit were locked away now, deep behind the curtains she had fabricated with metal keyholes and concrete walls. A psychological terror, she was caving inward. Or so we thought. From her perspective, she may be rebuilding her realities, expanding her horizons. To us, she was living in a world of second guessing and weightless philosophies. Her brain was churning at a factory pace, constantly, and channeling her creativity into a more abstract realm. Our best friend had hidden herself away in her mind. She only came out inconsistently, but I had to admit, when she did, she blew us all away. Something was changing, and she was finding herself, slowly.

Her once pastel being was graying into intelligent independence. Yet perhaps, deep inside, she was still pastel. Perhaps.

Rin was also a bit different recently, but her spirit was only growing more fiery and fighting. She was becoming brighter and a more powerful her.

I sipped my tea. It was quickly losing heat, but that was alright; I was almost done.

"I'll think about it." Mai was being indecisive on purpose, or so it seemed, and she flicked back the last of her coffee with one swoop of her wrist.

Author's Note

Thoughts?

Reviews

[wordman]

a great chapter,looks like a great book coming