Leave me a drabble of backstory. It can be about anyone -- one of your characters, one of mine, someone else's, no-one's. Anyone. Then I'll write one for you.
Cordelia has made quite the pastime out of watching what's going on around her. It's practically the only thing for a girl to do, around here, especially when there aren't any younger children in the family to be keeping an eye on. As such, she's become a fairly accurate guess at what's on people's minds - scarily accurate for a sixteen-year-old, sometimes. It rather surprises her when Imp first suggests they go out together, and she's not sure how long it'll last; still, they've known each other for years, and there are worse ways to start your romantic career than with an old friend. She realizes, after a couple of months, that he seems to be trying to convince himself that his eyes aren't following those young men learning how to properly set up a stone circle. There's no way this can end well, not the way things are going at the moment, but she's not willing to cause Imp any trouble. He gets enough grief from his father as it is, what with the whole music thing. So Cordelia breaks things off, as gently as she can manage, but only tells him part of the reason. He'll figure out the rest eventually, she's sure.
When Cordelia broke up with him, Imp was terribly ashamed.
Not because his very first relationship had failed. They mostly do, even in Llamedos, where things are a bit more staid, and dour, and foggy, than elsewhere on the Disc. Say, in Genua. Or in Ankh-Morpork, come to that. In Ankh-Morpork, your very first relationship might consist of the exchange of five dollars against a short round of wham-bam-thankyoumam, a well-travelled uncle had once told him. He had no idea what he meant by that, but had nodded and grinned as was expected of him.
No, he was ashamed because he falt a strange, surreptitious kind of relief. He had given it all a try, as he was supposed to do, and found it curiously lacking. He didn't want to hurt Cordelia, and so he had staid with her; but when she gently broke off things at last, he felt like a rabbit that had slipped the sling.
Now he was free to live for his music. At least that was what he was telling himself at the time.
Thank you! I am glad you like it. Pegging the characters is what I am aiming for, after all. Getting to know each others characters better is the main benefit of writing these drabbles, I think.
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yakalskovich) wrote2004-09-13 05:42 am
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RPage backstory strikes again...
It rather surprises her when Imp first suggests they go out together, and she's not sure how long it'll last; still, they've known each other for years, and there are worse ways to start your romantic career than with an old friend.
She realizes, after a couple of months, that he seems to be trying to convince himself that his eyes aren't following those young men learning how to properly set up a stone circle. There's no way this can end well, not the way things are going at the moment, but she's not willing to cause Imp any trouble. He gets enough grief from his father as it is, what with the whole music thing.
So Cordelia breaks things off, as gently as she can manage, but only tells him part of the reason. He'll figure out the rest eventually, she's sure.
no subject
Not because his very first relationship had failed. They mostly do, even in Llamedos, where things are a bit more staid, and dour, and foggy, than elsewhere on the Disc. Say, in Genua. Or in Ankh-Morpork, come to that. In Ankh-Morpork, your very first relationship might consist of the exchange of five dollars against a short round of wham-bam-thankyoumam, a well-travelled uncle had once told him. He had no idea what he meant by that, but had nodded and grinned as was expected of him.
No, he was ashamed because he falt a strange, surreptitious kind of relief. He had given it all a try, as he was supposed to do, and found it curiously lacking. He didn't want to hurt Cordelia, and so he had staid with her; but when she gently broke off things at last, he felt like a rabbit that had slipped the sling.
Now he was free to live for his music. At least that was what he was telling himself at the time.
no subject
I think you've got the boy pegged. ::mad applause::
no subject