Ten 100 word drabbles about Weather, taken from the Mission_insane prompt tables.
All from Peter or Sylar's POV, some are Petlar. Could be forced into Settled World Verse, but not specificlly written for the verse.
1.) Rain--100 words (Peter POV)
I have never felt as safe as I do now with the pitter patter of rain on the onning above me and the harsh breathing of the people next to me. Behind us there are bodies and in front of us there are agents in wait. But here, huddled away from the rain, we are free. No one expects anything from me, and I have no inclination of the future. I'm just a person. I'm not even Peter here, I just am. And I'm with people like me. Here in the rain, I can actually feel the sin wash away.
2.) Fog--100 words (Sylar POV)
It's all about concentration and patience. I started doing it to test myself but then it became a game. How much can I condense? How fast can I swirl it? Can I make the middle hollow? I get almost giddy when I see the fog roll across the grass and concrete.
It use to remind me of the snowglobes Virginia loved so much. But lately I've taken to making multiple balls and whirling them around myself. The more and more I do this the less I think of snowglobes. Instead I think of little souls. Souls that I can control.
3.) Snow--100 words (Peter POV)
When I was six Dad took Nathan and I on a camping trip. I saw really small and I couldn't quite keep up. Then we went over this big snow bank and I sank right to the bottom. They kept walking and I just jumped up and down, waving my arms. I screamed for Nathan and he came running back to get me. He laughed so hard. He just couldn't believe that I'd fallen through the snow.
But what I love most about that memory is what happened after. Nathan carried me all the way to camp on his back.
4.) Wind--100 words (Sylar POV)
Where's my comb? I swear it was in my coat pocket. Mm...there's a hole in the lining...it's in my jacket. Damn it, I need it now. Almost...almost...there! Yes, now I can fix my hair. Maybe I should get a haircut. No, no, I like this style. It goes from professional to crazy serial killer in just a few seconds.
I think...yes, it's all combed back nice and neat. Having this hairstyle isn't easy. It's not like Peter's little emo bang thing, this takes maintenace. The wind just can't appreciate the work I put into it.
5.) Sun--100 words (Peter POV)
With every breath in I'm assaulted with the smell of Febreeze, and when every exhale the carpet tickles my nose. on my front there's the press of our freshly vacuumed for and on my back there's the warm glow of the sun. Sylar's being quiet. I have the day off of work. No one needs me to save the day and I'm not running from any villians. Yesterday I got hit in face. Tomorrow I might take a bullet. But for right now I'm just lying here, in the sunniest patch of our house. I'm just relaxing. This. Is. Heaven.
6.) Frost—100 words (Sylar POV)
One of my first abilities, and one I don't use often, is cryokenesis. I get it from Molly Walker's father and only really used it once. It's something I prefer to just play with. I press my hand to window panes and let frost creep out from under my fingers. Every time, every single time, the pattern is different. The crystals just don't line up right, not the way I want them to. It's so frustrating, the fact that I can't control it. I use to scream and rage at the windows, like they were mocking me. But not anymore.
7.) Storm—100 words (Peter POV)
Every clash and rumble of thunder quakes through my bones and makes me feel like a kid again. The birage of rain pumbling the windows drills into my ears and makes it impossible to spleep. I wish it would let up, or that I'd at least get use to it. I just want to go to sleep and block all of this out.
It's alright, thunder can't get you. It's the lightning. And all of that mess is outside Pete.
-BOOM-
"Uhhhhh..."
"S'just thunder...c'mere."
Much better. Thunder's not so bad when I have Sylar's heartbeat to deafen it.
8.) Dew--100 words (Sylar POV)
I remember that my mother, my real mother, use to tell me a story about the dew. She said that in the early morning hours, before the sun really rose, faires would come out to mourn. Mourn the lost of friends lost and nature moving on. And in their final moments before the magic hour was up, they cry onto the grass and leaves until their grief is nothing more than little beads. Then they fly away and watch as people run through their tears and spread them through the air like kisses on precious ankles to travel another day.
9.) Humid—100 words (Peter POV)
Humidity is unsensitive to the nature of my relationship. It's hot and wet and all I want is a decent breeze and a cool drink. Instead I have my horny boyfriend pawing all over me. 'It's sexy how your shirt clings there.' he says, 'It's soooo damn irresitable the way your hair curls up' he says. It's all just hot breath in my ear and sweaty palms dragging down my sides.
Normally it'd be great, all this lethargic lovin, but right now it's just annoying. If he'd be into seducing me with an ice cube I might rethink my position.
10.) Heat Wave--100 words (Sylar POV)
This is not fair. Since when does New York have heat waves? I'm sitting in a puddle of my own sweat, practically panting like a dog. I'm down to my underwear and still there's no relief. If it gets one degree hotter I'm losing the underwear, to hell with Petrelli's decency standards. I'm a grown man and if I want to sit bare ass naked in my living room I can.
Ah, this is disgusting. I haven't felt like this since Mexico. Maybe I can convince Peter, 'Miss Priss' Petrelli to strip too. He looks hot. But naked's always better.