Thank you for all the feedback and comments. I tried to warn y'all that I would not be updating too often, I'm sorry my work schedule is a little intense. Plus not having internet for an entire month sort of put things on pause. I know some are not excited about the hint of faberry in this fic. Well, the only hope I can offer those people is the fact that faberry is not a reality in this fic as of chapter 2. This chapter is primarily about y'all getting to know the characters better, about their personalities. Let me know what y'all think. Thank you for sticking with this fic and my version of these characters. I also want to state that I love writing about a writer, it's all so very inception like. Like a story in a story. Lol. As I stated before please feel free to comment and criticize. I read them all and take what is said into consideration.
Chapter 2
It was frigid, and the archer's breath puffed out in visible clouds obscuring her vision slightly. The early morning drizzle made it worse, and the way the archer's leather armor stuck to her body made her feel restricted. She shifted slightly trying to unstick her cotton undershirt from her body. No luck, the cotton stayed glued to her like an unwanted second skin. All around her the forest was deathly silent, magnifying every heartbeat, every stretch of her armor, every movement she made. It was unnerving, and made the archer all the more aware of her surroundings. Stealth was paramount in this situation, Leviine could not afford any mistakes. Her life depended on her skills. She checked which way the rain fell careful to stay upwind of her prey. When hunting dragons, one should not give away the gift of surprise because that was almost guaranteed death.
Santana looked up from her notebook, her pen tapping a steady rhythm against the paper as thoughts raced through her head. Should she have Leviine be ambushed, should she have her continue to stalk her prey to build up some more tension? Did she even like how this paragraph sounded? So many decisions.
With a sigh the Latina shut her notebook, it was almost time to go and the coffee shop was getting a bit noisy as the afternoon classes crowd began filling up at the counter. Santana had never understood why some girls chose to make class their personal fashion show time; she, on the other hand, was dressed comfortably in jeans and a t-shirt. Her trusty and always present messenger bag at her side, and glasses perched on her nose, Santana was the picture of casual.
Santana shrugged her shoulders experimentally, imagining how a wet undershirt and armor would feel. Would it be heavy and burdensome? Or a familiar and comfortable weight. She made sure to keep her umbrella out as lately the afternoon thunderstorms occurred like clockwork. Something about Georgia in the summer made for strange weather patterns. It was humid in the morning, humid and hot during the day then BAM afternoon thunderstorm. Even if there was no clouds in the sky that morning a thunderstorm was sure to hit by 5 in the afternoon.
For Santana it was a calming time of day, a time when she could reflect and write. Her best thoughts usually came as the rain pelted her window. The steady rhythm of the pitter patter transported her to realities where dragon hunters kept a wary eye on the heavens. But today would have little of that, today was school play with Kurt day.
He loved theater and once told her that he even considered pursuing musical theater in undergrad. However he found that the delight of the state didn't match his passion for helping injured people recover from their injuries. In high school his older step brother was injured while on duty and required physical therapy to recover. Kurt had become fascinated with physical therapy and body mechanics and was now pursuing his doctors in physical therapy. Santana had met the peppy young man during undergrad at her friend Mike's party and the three became fast friends. In fact the three of them, Mike, Kurt, and herself were near inseparable during their undergraduate careers at the University of Florida. Often creating mischief like soaping fountains, and having wild nights that ended in one or more of them puking on the outside of a Waffle House at 3 A.M.
Now, Mike was in the Marines as an engineering officer, and she found herself in at the same university as Kurt. When they could the three friends often got together but with Mike currently overseas fighting the three of them would do weekly Skype chats so long as Mike wasn't getting mortar attacked at the base. That always worried the Latina but she tried to not let the other two know the extent of her concern.
With a final sigh the writer took her now empty coffee mug and disposed of it at the counter. With a last wave to the cute barista she shouldered her bag and walked out into the quickly darkening afternoon, still considering dragon attacks with every step.
At 4:45 p.m. the Mills Theater was humming with activity. Students were milling around looking at the various sculptures and paintings perpetually on display in the art building while waiting for the show to begin. It was a typical scene, and one the brunette had seen many times. In fact, more then she cared to admit.
The Latina preferred the paintings on the 2nd floor to the strange abstract splotches on the first floor. She never understood why the entrance way and first floor were always littered with paintings which looked to her untrained eye like a mass of colors that a toddler had thrown on the canvas. Wouldn't they put their best paintings on the first floor for the rest of the student populace to see? Not some drips of paint on a white or black canvas which screamed, "look at me I'm progressive! I have thoughts, I'm deep!" The second floor paintings were more thought provoking in Santana's opinion. Her favorite was a girl in full color watching a sunset in negative. One could extract meaning from that painting, it was beautifully done by someone named Marley. Santana made a note to find this Marley one day and ask if the painting was for sale.
Santana felt a tap on her shoulder disrupting her internal monologue. "I see you made it" a voice behind her said.
The Latina turned and smiled at her friend Kurt, his eyes shining in barely restrained delight at seeing one of his favorite plays.
"How's my favorite physical therapist?" Santana smirked as she nudged Kurt with her shoulder.
"Absolutely drowning in clinical. I swear I've seen at least 10 people this week for knee injuries." Kurt replied with a dramatic wave of his hand.
"You're doing an internship at the military hospital, what did you expect? Don't they have to run a lot?" Santana countered.
Kurt sighed, running a hand through his short brown hair. He hated complaining about his internship. He was grateful to have it, even though it was very difficult to get. And he loved every minute of working with the world class doctors that treated the men and women of the armed forces. He loved being a part of something bigger then himself. But sometimes working with the military members was difficult emotionally.
"You're doing the head rubbing thing again, stop it Kurt." Santana chastised, then added more gently, "What's up, did something happen?"
"I saw a girl who's our age." Kurt replied softly. "She's been to the war zone twice, and her best friend was killed in the blast she was injured in."
"You worried about Mike?" Santana asked, concern edging at the corners of her voice.
Kurt only nodded, looking away sheepishly. Santana always had a knack for seeing through Kurt's anxieties and he was thankful that he didn't have to say it out loud. Once upon a time he had a big crush on Mike. Even though his feelings weren't returned he always had a soft spot for the Asian even if he was currently in a relationship.
"Sometimes, I think of him out there and you know ….with the mortars." Kurt started softly, "He tries to be all brave but you can just tell sometimes that it freaks him out. And sometimes I can't help but think, what if he doesn't make it home, or comes back injured?"
Santana paused as she looked at her friend, his worried blue eyes shone brightly with anxious unshed tears. Silently she pulled him in for a tight hug which he didn't hesitate in returning. She had those same thoughts once in a while, probably most people with friends and loved ones in the war zone thought those things. But it didn't make it any easier.
"Kurt, he will be ok. He's a big bad Marine now." Santana smiled, "Yes, it's dangerous out there but remember he is out there building stuff and fixing things not fighting in the middle of it like the other guys. Remember what he said the last time we chatted?"
"Thanks for the candy?" Kurt smiled.
Santana laughed and poked Kurt's slim shoulder, "That was a lot of candy wasn't it? He better say thanks, that was 30 lbs of gummy bears and sour patch kids that went to the desert. I was a little worried it would have melted into a giant bag of gummy bear."
"But you're being facetious" Santana faked annoyance as she pinched his ear," remember he said it was an honor to go out there and he wanted to do to go. Don't feel bad Kurt, he will come back. We gotta keep believing that."
With a sigh Kurt smiled gently at the Latina before giving her a hug. "You're right. I guess sometimes I feel guilty when I think about everyone out there."
"It's hard, I know, but you know what" Santana said as she threw an arm around Kurt's slim frame.
"What's that?"
"You don't have to join the military to support them. Candy is sometimes all that's needed." Santana smirked referring to her letter. On the Latina's desk was a signed letter from Mike's unit thanking Santana and Kurt for the candy and saying that it was the best care package any of them had ever seen.
"Now come on oh alabaster of skin, let's get you to your musical." Santana smirked as she ruffled Kurt's hair for good measure while leading them toward the theater doors.
Brittany frowned at the painting in front of her, the large sweeping strokes of paint seemed whimsical with a hint of nonsensical color to the blonde. Modern art confused her, lots of things confused her; but modern art was easily top ten. It confused her more then why funnel cakes tasted more delicious at theme parks then at home or why buns and hotdogs didn't come in the same number. It also confused her more than people who insisted that their double fur coated husky was cold and needed a sweater, those dogs were specifically bred for sub-zero temperatures. There is absolutely no way that in sunny Georgia the dog was cold.
"Why can't they just paint things I can recognize like a happy tree?" she mused quietly.
The lobby of the Mills building was getting more packed with students as the start time of the play drew closer. Laughter and the buzzing of chatter filled the once quiet halls as people milled about or got coffee at the concession stand. It was all a bit much for the blond psychologist. Brittany loved people it's why she went into psychology but people in crowds unnerved her slightly. In crowds the blonde's height became far more apparent and while on the outside she may look like she is standing confidently off to the side looking at an odd painting, on the inside the tall blonde felt large and awkward. Brittany had always been tall; at 13 years old she easily towered over all her classmates at 5'6. While the psychologist was confident in most situations now, she still sometimes felt like that gangly 13 year old girl who was all arms and legs.
"Well that sure is a weird painting." Quinn's voice broke through the tall blonde's thoughts.
"It's called sprites over water." Brittany responded, "But I don't get it, where is the sprite bottle? And why are they glorifying litter?"
Quinn simply looked over at her friend, she was used to Brittany's random comments. "Who knows, but Britt the play is going to start in about 10. I got us coffees so why don't we go sit down?" Quinn asked as she ushered them toward the theater entrance.
"Did you get us front row seats again? You know the last time I could see all their weird stage make-up and I had nightmares about clowns for weeks after that." The taller blond pouted.
Sighing Quinn turned the taller blond toward the door with a gentle hand to her back, " I know, I've said sorry for that I don't know how many times. I got us 4th row seats this time so hopefully no horrible nightmares about clowns. Besides, didn't I tell you NOT to watch Killer clowns from outer space?"
"I know! I know! But how could a movie that lame sounding be so scary? I got curious." Brittany whined as her latte was gently pushed into her hands. "How was I supposed to know they kidnap you and stick you into giant cotton candy cocoons so they can suck the blood out of you?! Who makes a movie like that knowing that clown phobias are common?"
"Seriously Bree, sometimes I wonder about you. Besides, it's probably the same people who made that human centipede movie." Quinn shook her head slightly as the two of them found their seats.
"You love me, I bring spice to your life like the Spice Girls." Brittany replied with a cheeky grin, purposefully ignoring the comment about the human centipede movie. That movie's cover alone had freaked the psychologist out.
"I thought we agreed to never talk about my love of all things Spice Girls?" Quinn ground out.
"Its ok Quinny, come out of your Spice rack. There is no judgment of spice love." The taller blond retorted. "It's all nutmeg to me anyway."
Quinn's frown deepened as her mouth opened but thinking better of it snapped her mouth closed. This round would go to Brittany.
"Minus two friend points for corniness, Brittany."
By the third act the tall blonde psychologist was already bored. If it weren't for Quinn's girl crush on Rachel, Brittany would never have come to the play. She loved musicals but she wasn't a fan of dramas in any form, she dealt with enough drama in her work so she preferred comedies. But she had to be a good friend and support her friend, she just wished Quinn would hurry up and ask the girl out. It was obvious to anyone who saw the two of them together that they both were dancing around the other. But Brittany knew not to push her shorter friend, she got feisty when you did that and ultimately clammed up tighter then a nun on Sunday.
They were in the middle of a musical number, and all Brittany could do was write notes to herself on what groceries she needed to pick up from the store. She needed more laundry detergent, some more mangos, chicken broth of course, how about some bread for toast too, and those little salty delicious balls of wonderfulness…what were they called again, started with a C…?
The margins of her program had her usual "I'm bored" scrawl, it was like her own personal language. During high school Brittany learned to keep her mind occupied during class to saying something which got her laughed at. To do that she had to do something which challenged her attention and made her focus, otherwise her mind would wander and she would feel compelled to make a comment. Unfortunately most of her classmates didn't follow her thought process or thought it was weird.
Thus, she began to write her notes upside-down and backward. It took months for her to perfect but once Brittany had gotten the hang of the technique she used the writing style to take special notes to herself. All through school no one realized that she wasn't writing some sort of foreign language; in fact most people assumed that she was writing in Dutch. When questioned about her scrawl the blonde often replied with a cryptic smile and some comment about mirrors showing what we know to be true. The bond's inner geek felt squealed in joy every time she got to say it. It wasn't until Quinn that someone realized that the psychologist was actually writing in English.
"Quinn-bee I can't take it anymore; I'm going for a coffee refresher and a line of cocaine." The taller blonde quietly whispered to her enthralled friend.
A slight frown appeared on the Quinn's smooth face, and she tucked an errant strand of her dirty blond hair behind her ear. With a sigh the shorter blond spared Brittany a glance as she whispered back sagely, "Cocaine won't keep you awake for the rest of the play, only meth will. Besides, longer half-life, cheaper, and if you can get over what it will do to your skin and face it's worth the Swiss cheese brain you'll get."
"But pseudoephedrine is watched now, how am I supposed to make it? I mean really the first batch would probably be a bust anyway" Brittney retorted playing along with their game.
"I guess you'll just have to make due with trying to find some shady dealer in a back alley somewhere" Quinn shrugged feigning apathy.
The psychologist made a thoughtful sound as she pretended to weigh her options. "Or a swift guillotine strike to the neck will end my misery."
"You watch way too much kung fu Bree"
"I'm testing a Matrix theory" Brittany dead-panned. "Either way, you owe me for this and I expect payment in way of getting to dress you for your first date with Madam Starlet."
"Go get your coffee Bree"
The taller blond just smirked at the blush covering her friend's face as she shuffled out of her seat and toward the exit.
"I wonder if they serve alcohol, because this is certainly a job for it. If not, I wonder how many shots of espresso I can get away with before reaching clinical caffeine intoxication. Better google that later." The blonde thought as she pushed through the doors into the main lobby.
Again, please feel free to comment.