holy crud, it's some fic!
Jun. 1st, 2009 09:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chanter1944I... have no idea where this came from, actually. For whatever reason, my Tracy-muse decided to drop an idea in my lap tonight, and she wouldn't leave me alone once she'd sparked what she'd intended to. this is the result of about... *checks clock* maybe half an hour of intent scribbling. Make of it what you will. :)
Title: Colors In Cloth
Author: Chanter
Series: original, 1992 universe
Characters/pairings: butterfly and Tracy
Rating: PG for mild cursing
Summary: It's amazing where needing to cover your windows can lead.
689 words
The curtains were Butterfly's idea.
Tracy could believe it, did believe it, when she thought about her roommate's insistance on proper curtains. "No blinds," Butterfly had said. "I don't want ugly plastic hanging in front of my windows; forget it, Tracy." Not that Tracy had been thinking along those lines to start with. So long as it covered the glass when she didn't want folks seeing in, it was fine with her. Butterfly was the one who had issues with the details. That was just like her. that was all her.
The curtains were blue-green in the end, an odd sort of dark turquoise color that put Tracy in mind of oceans she'd never seen for herself. Hers was a world of rivers and lakes and occasionally flooded fields; her idea of oceans came from pictures but she thought, over all, that the color was right. If Butterfly had ever seen an ocean up close, Tracy didn't know. More likely than not she'd find out in a future throwaway remark, some none too subtle jibe about 'when Daddy took us to the seaside,' but she had sense enough not to ask outright. That way lay more trouble than Tracy felt like dealing with on most days. So the color was turquoise.
and it worked for them. There wasn't any lace, weren't any overly-frilly bits at the bottom edges, and for that Tracy was decidedly grateful. She'd half-expected pink, after it was established that Butterfly would be the one doing the curtain shopping - "Tracy," she'd said, "you just have *no* sense of style for these things. God, you'd probably put some ugly corduroy up on the wall or something if I left you alone. I'm doing this." Never mind the indignant "I would not!" that those remarks prompted. The lack of anything glaringly girly in the shopping bag Butterfly had brought home came as a definite relief. Greeny-blue she could work with, though it did make her wonder more than once just what Butterfly had been thinking of when she'd been making color selections. Not that she didn't like the choice the other girl had made. She did. And that was the puzzling thing.
Tracy never worked in the living room when Butterfly was home. The few times she'd tried it, she'd been shouted down through a closed bedroom door, hearing all about how she was so goddamn loud and could she play somewhere else before the other girl got a headache? So she kept her work to her own room unless Butterfly was elsewhere, tuning strings and strumming chords, only coming out to play--literally so--when her roommate was nowhere to be found. It... worked, in the sense that it was the best that could be done without a knock down, drag out argument between the two girls. Sometimes, in her darker moments, Tracy couldn't stop herself speculating on just who would win that sort of battle. More often than not, those sorts of speculations left her smirking somewhat guiltily into her mirror.
By and large, arguments without a good reason weren't her thing. Not that Tracy didn't think she had a fairly good reason or two up her sleeve, but in the larger scheme of things, the issue was a small one. that, and she knew full well that her particular set of reasons wouldn't hold water with Butterfly. so she left it alone. and she only brought her guitar to the kitchen table when Butterfly wasn't home. It was always the chair furthest from the door that she used, turned so that the ladder back leaned against the table's edge and the seat faced the curtains on the main room's windows. Blue. Green. Bluegreen. It worked, with the way the sun filtered in when those curtains were closed. Blue. Green. bluegreen. Yellow.
Tracy wouldn't admit it to Butterfly, not with the contempt the other girl showed for the life she led, but the colors through the curtains on those rare days were enough to write songs by.
So she did. and she was rather proud of what she came up with, to tell the truth.
Title: Colors In Cloth
Author: Chanter
Series: original, 1992 universe
Characters/pairings: butterfly and Tracy
Rating: PG for mild cursing
Summary: It's amazing where needing to cover your windows can lead.
689 words
The curtains were Butterfly's idea.
Tracy could believe it, did believe it, when she thought about her roommate's insistance on proper curtains. "No blinds," Butterfly had said. "I don't want ugly plastic hanging in front of my windows; forget it, Tracy." Not that Tracy had been thinking along those lines to start with. So long as it covered the glass when she didn't want folks seeing in, it was fine with her. Butterfly was the one who had issues with the details. That was just like her. that was all her.
The curtains were blue-green in the end, an odd sort of dark turquoise color that put Tracy in mind of oceans she'd never seen for herself. Hers was a world of rivers and lakes and occasionally flooded fields; her idea of oceans came from pictures but she thought, over all, that the color was right. If Butterfly had ever seen an ocean up close, Tracy didn't know. More likely than not she'd find out in a future throwaway remark, some none too subtle jibe about 'when Daddy took us to the seaside,' but she had sense enough not to ask outright. That way lay more trouble than Tracy felt like dealing with on most days. So the color was turquoise.
and it worked for them. There wasn't any lace, weren't any overly-frilly bits at the bottom edges, and for that Tracy was decidedly grateful. She'd half-expected pink, after it was established that Butterfly would be the one doing the curtain shopping - "Tracy," she'd said, "you just have *no* sense of style for these things. God, you'd probably put some ugly corduroy up on the wall or something if I left you alone. I'm doing this." Never mind the indignant "I would not!" that those remarks prompted. The lack of anything glaringly girly in the shopping bag Butterfly had brought home came as a definite relief. Greeny-blue she could work with, though it did make her wonder more than once just what Butterfly had been thinking of when she'd been making color selections. Not that she didn't like the choice the other girl had made. She did. And that was the puzzling thing.
Tracy never worked in the living room when Butterfly was home. The few times she'd tried it, she'd been shouted down through a closed bedroom door, hearing all about how she was so goddamn loud and could she play somewhere else before the other girl got a headache? So she kept her work to her own room unless Butterfly was elsewhere, tuning strings and strumming chords, only coming out to play--literally so--when her roommate was nowhere to be found. It... worked, in the sense that it was the best that could be done without a knock down, drag out argument between the two girls. Sometimes, in her darker moments, Tracy couldn't stop herself speculating on just who would win that sort of battle. More often than not, those sorts of speculations left her smirking somewhat guiltily into her mirror.
By and large, arguments without a good reason weren't her thing. Not that Tracy didn't think she had a fairly good reason or two up her sleeve, but in the larger scheme of things, the issue was a small one. that, and she knew full well that her particular set of reasons wouldn't hold water with Butterfly. so she left it alone. and she only brought her guitar to the kitchen table when Butterfly wasn't home. It was always the chair furthest from the door that she used, turned so that the ladder back leaned against the table's edge and the seat faced the curtains on the main room's windows. Blue. Green. Bluegreen. It worked, with the way the sun filtered in when those curtains were closed. Blue. Green. bluegreen. Yellow.
Tracy wouldn't admit it to Butterfly, not with the contempt the other girl showed for the life she led, but the colors through the curtains on those rare days were enough to write songs by.
So she did. and she was rather proud of what she came up with, to tell the truth.
