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18 December 2005 11:08![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cog_nomenThis idea was suggested to me. I kind of ran with it.
Fandom: Big O
Theme: Memories
Rating: G
Roger Smith found himself humming upbeat tunes he did not remember the words to. They came unbidden to his mind like the cold weather that overtook Paradigm city. People wandered in their usual aimless way, venturing into stores and looking at things and thinking of people they knew.
Roger told himself that the nostalgia that overtook him when he found himself looking at a lady's fur coat was because the year was nearly over. Everyone began to feel this way this time of year. He blamed absent memories and let it drop, the plush fur of the sleeve falling from his fingers. He couldn't picture Dorothy in it, anyway. He walked in the early dark with his hands in his pockets and tunes that he couldn't name running through his thoughts.
If only he could remember.
He must have hummed them more often than he was aware, because Dorothy began to include them in the poundings she orchestrated on the piano to wake him up, sliding effortlessly between one song he could not remember the name of and the next, then back again. It was downright aggravating - if she kept encouraging them, they'd never go away.
"Dorothy!" He had to yell more than once. A single reprimand had never yet stilled her hands on the keys. "Cut it out!"
The playing did not cease, but Dorothy's head pivoted in his direction. Her face was very human, her actions did not match. "You hum this music Roger." She said logically. "You should like it."
"I don't even know what it is." He found himself growling, while the android's fingers dutifully picked out a different tune. Something classical. He would have rather had silence, but he might start humming again. He let her play.
Later, as he was headed out in a sudden fit of wandering, his living room felt empty. He wasn't sure what he expected to fill the space, but he noticed a distinct lack of something. He tossed the end of his scarf around his neck tightly to keep out the cold, and flexed his fingers into snug black leather gloves. He shook the feeling off and stepped out into the bright world of Paradigm City.
People milled about everywhere, spending money without knowing why. Hot drinks kept the hands busy, but not the mind occupied. He felt secure when he realized that he wasn't the only one who realized he'd forgotten something important. It seemed the whole city had lost a very big memory, though this time he didn't think it was a giant robot that would rear up to try and take down his Big O for rights to this stomping ground.
Instead, it seemed like a quiet, happy sort of memory. One that caused cheery tunes to rise up in the back of your mind while you wandered around aimlessly, feeling you had something to do. Roger felt downright celebratory. It made him grumpy - like all memories did. Memories always meant trouble.
His feet carried him to the store, and back to the coat. It was haunting him. He plucked at the sleeve with fingers dampened by leather, idly fidgeting the item until a clerk came to press a purchase on him.
"It'll look lovely on your girlfriend." She piped up, eager and forgetful and well-dressed. It was a nice store. "And it's getting colder, she'll be nice and warm."
"I don't have one." His tone came out shorter than he imagined. The saleswoman's gaze came up from the coat's fluffy collar, met his eyes apologetically.
"I'm sorry. You keep coming to look at it - I thought surely it was for someone close to you." The girl smiled. "I always agonize over gifts - I'm never sure if I'm picking something they'd like."
Roger hesitated. Took a moment to reorganize his mood. He tried to picture Angel's curves filling the coat, found his mind fixating on the hourglass slope of her hips. He smiled, and shook his head - the coat was too fluffy. It would muffle her figure and draw attention away from where she usually directed it.
"Would you like a gift like this?" He asked, fingers still pushing soft tufts of fur here and there, tousling the coat like a soft wind would. The fur made gorgeous patterns, rings of color exposed when the strands were pushed out of order.
"I might be too afraid to wear it." She laughed, ducking her head a little. Another customer approached, and she sailed away. "If you need any help..." She left off, unfinished but intended. He knew what she meant.
He bought the coat.
Initially, he wasn't sure what to do with it, boxed up and tied with green colored ribbon because it was almost too fluffy to fit. Piano music greeted his entrance, a tune he'd been humming perfected and relayed again in a jaunty, merry way that felt right. The weight of memories tried to descend on him, but instead he shook them off, stormed across the room.
He thrust the box onto the piano keys as Dorothy played, jamming a discordant jumble of notes into the middle of the song he couldn't remember. She stopped playing and looked up at him, her cold gaze passive. There was no trace of anger, but he could swear he felt it anyway. Just for a moment.
"It's for you." He explained, equally angry. He turned on his heel and marched a straight line for his room, slamming the door behind him.
Piano notes picked up behind his exodus, furiously expressing a tune that he hummed as sad and melancholy, pounding notes hard in a way that sounded distinctly agitated. A sound that Dorothy's voice never achieved, laid out in melodies that filled in holes that he had hummed around previously.
Fandom: Big O
Theme: Memories
Rating: G
Roger Smith found himself humming upbeat tunes he did not remember the words to. They came unbidden to his mind like the cold weather that overtook Paradigm city. People wandered in their usual aimless way, venturing into stores and looking at things and thinking of people they knew.
Roger told himself that the nostalgia that overtook him when he found himself looking at a lady's fur coat was because the year was nearly over. Everyone began to feel this way this time of year. He blamed absent memories and let it drop, the plush fur of the sleeve falling from his fingers. He couldn't picture Dorothy in it, anyway. He walked in the early dark with his hands in his pockets and tunes that he couldn't name running through his thoughts.
If only he could remember.
He must have hummed them more often than he was aware, because Dorothy began to include them in the poundings she orchestrated on the piano to wake him up, sliding effortlessly between one song he could not remember the name of and the next, then back again. It was downright aggravating - if she kept encouraging them, they'd never go away.
"Dorothy!" He had to yell more than once. A single reprimand had never yet stilled her hands on the keys. "Cut it out!"
The playing did not cease, but Dorothy's head pivoted in his direction. Her face was very human, her actions did not match. "You hum this music Roger." She said logically. "You should like it."
"I don't even know what it is." He found himself growling, while the android's fingers dutifully picked out a different tune. Something classical. He would have rather had silence, but he might start humming again. He let her play.
Later, as he was headed out in a sudden fit of wandering, his living room felt empty. He wasn't sure what he expected to fill the space, but he noticed a distinct lack of something. He tossed the end of his scarf around his neck tightly to keep out the cold, and flexed his fingers into snug black leather gloves. He shook the feeling off and stepped out into the bright world of Paradigm City.
People milled about everywhere, spending money without knowing why. Hot drinks kept the hands busy, but not the mind occupied. He felt secure when he realized that he wasn't the only one who realized he'd forgotten something important. It seemed the whole city had lost a very big memory, though this time he didn't think it was a giant robot that would rear up to try and take down his Big O for rights to this stomping ground.
Instead, it seemed like a quiet, happy sort of memory. One that caused cheery tunes to rise up in the back of your mind while you wandered around aimlessly, feeling you had something to do. Roger felt downright celebratory. It made him grumpy - like all memories did. Memories always meant trouble.
His feet carried him to the store, and back to the coat. It was haunting him. He plucked at the sleeve with fingers dampened by leather, idly fidgeting the item until a clerk came to press a purchase on him.
"It'll look lovely on your girlfriend." She piped up, eager and forgetful and well-dressed. It was a nice store. "And it's getting colder, she'll be nice and warm."
"I don't have one." His tone came out shorter than he imagined. The saleswoman's gaze came up from the coat's fluffy collar, met his eyes apologetically.
"I'm sorry. You keep coming to look at it - I thought surely it was for someone close to you." The girl smiled. "I always agonize over gifts - I'm never sure if I'm picking something they'd like."
Roger hesitated. Took a moment to reorganize his mood. He tried to picture Angel's curves filling the coat, found his mind fixating on the hourglass slope of her hips. He smiled, and shook his head - the coat was too fluffy. It would muffle her figure and draw attention away from where she usually directed it.
"Would you like a gift like this?" He asked, fingers still pushing soft tufts of fur here and there, tousling the coat like a soft wind would. The fur made gorgeous patterns, rings of color exposed when the strands were pushed out of order.
"I might be too afraid to wear it." She laughed, ducking her head a little. Another customer approached, and she sailed away. "If you need any help..." She left off, unfinished but intended. He knew what she meant.
He bought the coat.
Initially, he wasn't sure what to do with it, boxed up and tied with green colored ribbon because it was almost too fluffy to fit. Piano music greeted his entrance, a tune he'd been humming perfected and relayed again in a jaunty, merry way that felt right. The weight of memories tried to descend on him, but instead he shook them off, stormed across the room.
He thrust the box onto the piano keys as Dorothy played, jamming a discordant jumble of notes into the middle of the song he couldn't remember. She stopped playing and looked up at him, her cold gaze passive. There was no trace of anger, but he could swear he felt it anyway. Just for a moment.
"It's for you." He explained, equally angry. He turned on his heel and marched a straight line for his room, slamming the door behind him.
Piano notes picked up behind his exodus, furiously expressing a tune that he hummed as sad and melancholy, pounding notes hard in a way that sounded distinctly agitated. A sound that Dorothy's voice never achieved, laid out in melodies that filled in holes that he had hummed around previously.
