Good day, my fellow Fringies! In this Polivia drought, I thought that I'd take a crack at some good ole' fashioned drabbles to fulfill your aching hearts. These drabbles, while longer than traditional ficlets, are based on a series of words given to me by friends on Tumblr slash real life (lol what be those). They may be sweet or sexy, or maybe even a little angsty if it comes to pass, with varying narration and point of view. But! If and when you choose to indulge in this series of stories, feel free to leave a word or two of your own (and maybe with a review, if you kind folk are so inclined)! Anything can spark the flint of inspiration. I will try to update on a quasi-regular basis, when the wind of creativity decides to blow in my direction. And by that I mean when I get tired of harvesting cyberwheat on Facebook and get crackin' (*Disclaimer: No real cyberwheat was or will ever be harvested during the writing of these stories).
And on that note, Viva la Polivia!
BOOM.
Olivia shot her arms up to cover her head in an instantaneous, instinctive flash as she heard the sound ring out, shielding her vulnerable face as the giant window pane of a restaurant to her left blew out into a thousand glistening daggers. She felt them hit her like an unrelenting rain storm, a few of them mercilessly ripping through her coat and into her arm. She cried out in pain as she felt a wet warmth beginning to soak her sleeve through. But she bared her teeth and continued sprinting, the sound of her feet rhythmically hitting the pavement keeping her mind focused. Her heart was pounding so hard it was threatening to crack her ribs clean in half and the corners of her vision were beginning to softly blur. She started to slow, fatigue wracking her body, trying to force her to stillness. She leaned over, blonde hair curtaining her pink-tinged cheeks. She rested her palms against her knees as her chest heaved, her lungs desperately demanding the air they were being deprived of. But before she could compose herself, she felt a tug on her sleeve as she was dragged back into her previously abandoned full-on sprint.
"Come on!" Peter yelled over the sound of gunfire, allowing his face to reflect his true concern for her only for a moment before it returned to its icy fierceness. She nodded in silent agreement, the lack of oxygen choking any possible vocal response out of her body. He shifted his iron-banded grip to her hand, anchoring himself to her for dear life, in the most literal of senses.
They propelled themselves forward, legs moving like a raging, well-oiled machine, focusing only on weaving through debris on the abandoned night streets of Boston. Olivia chanced a quick glance over her shoulder, seeing the band of shapeshifters still within a disturbingly close distance. They looked like wild animals, eyes burning ferocious and predatorily, prowling on a hunt. She was pulled back to the reality of her forward momentum as she was whipped left around a corner, anchored from being sent into complete chaos by the strong grip of Peter's hand in hers. Before the shapeshifters rounded the corner, she was yanked down a dark, narrow alley littered with garbage cans. Peter pushed her flush against the coarse brick wall, her back slamming against it roughly. All the remaining air in her body was violently leeched from her, as she gasped like a fish out of water. But Peter slapped his hand over her mouth, quieting her wheezes and steading her shaking body by pinning her even harder with his hips. His gaze was scorching and intense, conveying a sense of urgency and unadulterated fear as he stared straight into her eyes. He forced his face into the crook of her neck, as if trying to physically fuse them together into the wall, so they could disappear into a safe oblivion. In a few short seconds they felt the pack of shapeshifters fly by, a forceful breeze whipping off of them like wind during a tempest. They stood there, heaving against one another as silently as possible, waiting for a calm.
When the sound of their aggressive footsteps had long faded, Peter retracted his face from her neck and backed away from her slightly. Overcome by exhaustion and the numbing pain spreading in her arm, Olivia slowly slid down the wall so she could rest upon the cold and unforgiving ground. Assessing her wounds, she found the source of her pain in an alarmingly large piece of glass sticking out from her torn flesh. In an instance of stupidity, over the sound of Peter's protests, she grabbed the splinter of glass solidly and wrenched it from her arm. Once again her cries of pained frustration rang out as she angrily threw the bloody fragment aside. Olivia watched as Peter quickly sank to one knee, shrugging off his jacket and ripping the sleeve from his grey t-shirt. Quickly and methodically he wrapped the strip of fabric around her upper arm, nursing it with a kind gentility. When he finally looked up from her shoulder, he stared into her eyes, their emerald brilliance shining in the now visible moonlight.
A small, infectious smile crept over his face, making Olivia respond with a soft smirk. In the frenzy of the chase her hair had broken loose of its usual binds, and was now splayed lazily over her shoulders and back like a golden waterfall. He slowly brought his hand up, fingertips lightly brushing her cheek as he pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear, evoking an eruption of contradicting goosebumps on Olivia's heated skin. Scanning the length of her slumped body against the wall, Peter's gaze finally stopped at her feet. She watched him curiously as he brought his hands down to investigate. He quietly grabbed her undone shoelaces, and masterfully tied them tightly back into their rightful place. Giving a quick once-over of his work, he finally slapped his hands onto his knees and rose, towering above her in his night-given illumination. She looked up at him as he reached down, offering her a hand.
"How about we get out of here?" he said smoothly with his ever present smirk. She chuckled and gratefully took his hand, grabbing his jacket as her hand slowly slid into his strong grip, hoisting her off her feet. He brushed at her shoulders and sides, wiping the light coat of dirt from her jacket that was unwillingly provided by the dingy alley. She handed him back his discarded jacket, which he carelessly took hold of. When his hands stilled, he reached out again for her hand. She looked down and smiled, before looking up at him fully. Her hand rose to his, fingers slowly meshing with fingers as they quickly walked away back into the mysterious Boston night.
fin!
