Disclaimer: ¡Yo no tengo los "Los Caballeros de los Dragones"! ...Yo no sé... Yo quiero Thats. VV
Warning: Teenagers, fluff(as always...), disclaimers in Spanish!
A/N: Two things. First, I've never attempted to do a Tintlett character sketch before, so please understand that I'm trying my goshdarned best, but have never even thought about doing this before!! I've reread all her scenes, paid attention to the way that she and Rune interact, and tried to get a grasp on her, but it hasn't quite clicked yet.
Secondly, why is it that there are EIGHT(not counting myself) authors on fanfiction that write Thatchels?::fuming:: Eight. And most of said authors only wrote a Thatchel in as a background pairing.::fuming more:: I'm trying to find twelve authors of Thatchels by December, so, please, if you want a NICE MENTION and DEDICATION, then, PLEASE, SOMEONE, get a Thatchel out(Yes, I've resorted to begging. That is how dire this situation is. Pathetic, I know.)!
::When fear was holding fast::
Harsh yellow lights bore down upon those few people designated to work the night as DJs, music changers, blarers of loud noise.
They were the one lit spot in a room of shadows and mist, a penetrating spot of brilliant light admidst the fog.
It was where many eyes gravitated once they could no longer bear to stare at their friends upon the dance floor, or search fruitlessly over the still-crowded bleachers.
Like moths to flame, their gaze drifted drunkenly towards it, latching on to the reminder of reality brought by blasting music and bright lights. The clashing scene of adults at work serving as a reminder that the world didn't center on this one night, that other things held more importance, and that the out come of the dance would not, realistically, have any effect on their lives.
There was a soothing truth in the artificial fire.
But however much one found oneself drawn to it, all who glanced upon it had to look away, for the shining brightness etched painfully sharp designs into your eyes.
Tintlett averted her gaze, drawing her line of vision away from the loudspeakers and sleek laptop computers that made up the mechanical music system.
The dark of the night might be filled with weakened hopes, but an old and worn wish was better than the blinding truth others attempted to oppose upon you.
A reassured smile flitted across her lips, then disappeared as she turned her head from side to side, searching for any trace of her two friends. Light blue eyes traced over the thinking crowds passing by, alighting upon familiar faces, then drawing away when they did not find what they were searching for.
Her hands played with one another in her lap, tracing patterns in the faded material of her jeans and drawing designs across their smooth skin.
There was still no sign of her friends.
And suddenly she felt alone.
Her face tilted downwards to examine her shifting hands and smooth pants, eyes trailing over unimportant details in a vain quest of distraction.
Faint white lines traced across the faded blue, crisscrossing over one another, then drifting away into the rippling waves of the winter ocean. Fair skin turned to sea breeze, drawing lines of delicate waiting across the ice.
And the sun...
Her face slowly rose from her plaited hands, twin depths of summer's liquid warmth finding themselves drawn towards the fire captured in small glass cages, each rounded, and each glowing with a clear intensity.
"No."
She smiled, laughing at herself, at her foolishness.
Lights.
That's all they were.
But still...
"No," she softly repeated the word to herself, a breath of wind in the stifling room.
There might be a soothing truth to be found in flame, but one should savor the ocean while it lasted.
Tintlett allowed that thought to drift through her mind before acknowledging both it's overly poetic qualities, and it's sheer naivety.
Reality came only with maturity.
An overwhelming temptation crept around the empty spaces surrounding her, pushing her sight and mocking her thoughts.
See the truth.
She wavered, then slowly, determinedly, turned her face skywards, looking among the ceiling in a last defense of hope.
Her eyes, previously narrowed in concentration, suddenly widened.
There was a window, small, but clear, in the ceiling above her. The velvet cool of the sky was visible through it's surprisingly polished surface, smooth and almost reflective black showing a contrast to the captured burnt of dead wishes below.
The dark was pinpricked with beaming stars, ones not constricted in cages or wrapped in glass. Their light cast playful shadows across the sea of night, a dance of water and flame. The show was blinding, but not in the way of the fallen stars closer to hand.
And there, in the middle of the celestial glory, was a silver full moon.
Tintlett watched, amazed, at the seemingly ordinary sight.
A moonbeam fell from the sky, alighting upon her face, casting an almost tangible bridge between it's world and hers. Tethering her for just another moment.
Just another moment before the sun rose.
Before the sun rose and the stars fell.
She smiled.
And was suddenly filled with the urge to laugh, a brilliant bubbling of joy, bursting with perfection by it's utter naivety.
Reality came only with maturity.
But this night was for the young.
A giggle escaped her lips, quickly lost in the deafening din of silent footfalls and quiet music.
Tintlett smiled.
And she turned her gaze from the heavens, casting not a glance at the sun-spotted truth hidden until desperation caused one to open their eyes to the blindness of life, but instead letting her eyes, now filled to the brim with the light of the moon, ease their way across the room.
To dreams of golden cloudless skies and fields of fallen stars placed back in the shadows of simple fantasies.
Blue met blue.
And the fire shattered into a beam of moonshadow.
:n:Kat: ...Poetry? What poetry? I have fics and I have AIM bios... No poetry.
Harbinger Loki: Heehee... "Harbinger"... That was an English word last year. I was like, "Oh! I know that one!! LOKI!!"! n-----n It was fun... ANYway...
Rath:thanks you for the lollipop and sucks on the sucker
Cesia: blinks at fido Er... Thanks.
Ringleys:currently slow dancing with pocky stick(Hey, you think this is bad... You should've seen him when they were playing "Shake Ya Tailfeather" Xx;;;)
Thats:jumps and dives into pocky
Kitchel:sitting cross-legged on ground, happily playing with theify set
Me:munching on pocky and drinking strawberry-- no, orange-- no, strawberry soda
¡¡Tú nesisitas acabar EL THATCHELO!! XO
(You need to finish THE THATCHEL!! XO)
insaneoveranime: No, you reviewed for the first chapter! D Tell your sister that she's my new best friend. Well... Not really, but, um... Tell her that some random girl she's never met adores her favorite pairing and thinks she's cool beans for being a fellow insane Thatchel fan! DD
Hououza: Pocky, n. Pockysnack food that one eats when watching Gundam Wing marathons, reading Dragon Knights fanfiction for twelve hours straight, and writing nonstop all day. PockyGod. (And thanks for the luck and wishes!!)