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fredbassettTitle : Rise To Meet the Day
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 12
Characters : Emily/Matt, OCs
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Word Count : 726
Spoilers : None
Summary : We told our tales as we sat under morning’s sleepy sky.
A/N : Written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
primeval_denial monthly challenge, for the song prompt.
Emily leaned forward and threw another piece of wood on the fire. Sparks flew up and mingled with the rosy glow of dawn. The sky was suffused with warm colours but they hadn’t yet succeeded in driving away the last chills of night.
She shivered. Matt put his arm around her waist and drew her close. Emily leaned into his embrace and let the flames and the warmth of his body banish the cold.
“May I join you?” The words were soft and the question was tentative.
Emily looked up into the eyes of an older woman, her hair tucked into a kitted hat and her hands thrust deeply into the pocket of a heavy anorak. Emily recognised her from the last mad flight through the anomaly. The woman had been calm, despite knowing that the world hadn’t escaped from the destructive power of Philip Burton’s ill-fated experiments. She’d worked for Burton in Prospero Industries as a research physicist but Emily knew her better now as someone who could calmly gut, prepare and cook just about anything the hunters brought back to the campfire. Emily liked the woman, but couldn’t remember her name. With over 500 refugees from a ruined world in the camp, that was hardly surprising.
Emily smiled. “Please do.” She held out her hand. “I’m Emily.” The woman’s grip was firm, her skin rough. Emily wondered when any of them had last been able to make use of luxuries like hand cream. Emily hadn’t been in the 21st century long enough to get used to everything it had to offer, but she’d been there long enough to miss certain things, like hot running water, hair shampoo and hand cream; things she’d not even known about when she’d last travelled extensively beyond the anomalies.
“I’m Janet.” The woman shook hands with Matt and settled down on a log next to the fire, facing the dawn. “It’s beautiful,” she said softly. “We never really got to see the sunrise in London. Too much light pollution. A friend of mine was always wanting me to give up my job and move to the countryside. He used to enjoy watching the stars, but the city was no good for that.” Her smile was tinged with sadness.
Emily presumed from Janet’s use of the past tense that her friend had not made it through the anomaly. The majority of people in their group had been touched by loss. Some spoke about it to anyone who would listen. Others simply wrapped their grief around them like a cloak and went about the daily business of survival in grim silence. Emily couldn’t say which was best. She was lucky. She still had Matt at her side. He might not be the most demonstrative of men, but he had a good heart, he was kind and she knew he loved her, even though the words didn’t come easily to his lips.
“We argued about it,” Janet said, her eyes still fixed on the dawn. “That last morning. He’d seen a house for sale in the middle of Wales. Five miles from the nearest village. He was certain we could sell our flats for enough to live on for years. I told him he was off his rocker. That was the last thing I said to him.” She wiped the tears from her eyes with her fingertips.
A man moved out of the shadow of the trees to join them. Emily smiled at him. She recognised him as one of the men who has spent much of the previous day chopping wood with the group’s only axe. Matt waved a wand at the fire and the man sat down with them.
It was always like this amongst the group who kept the fire alive. People would come and go, flitting out of the trees like shadows. Sometimes talking, sometimes not. Emily liked hearing the stories of their lives. Occasionally, she told her own tales. Not of her life with Henry, because that had very little to commend it, but of the time she’d spent wandering with the people she’d come to think of as her tribe.
But tonight, she was content just to sit and watch the dawn, Matt’s arm around her waist and his hand warm in hers.
The tales would still be there for another day, another dawn.
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 12
Characters : Emily/Matt, OCs
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Word Count : 726
Spoilers : None
Summary : We told our tales as we sat under morning’s sleepy sky.
A/N : Written for the
primeval_denial monthly challenge, for the song prompt.Emily leaned forward and threw another piece of wood on the fire. Sparks flew up and mingled with the rosy glow of dawn. The sky was suffused with warm colours but they hadn’t yet succeeded in driving away the last chills of night.
She shivered. Matt put his arm around her waist and drew her close. Emily leaned into his embrace and let the flames and the warmth of his body banish the cold.
“May I join you?” The words were soft and the question was tentative.
Emily looked up into the eyes of an older woman, her hair tucked into a kitted hat and her hands thrust deeply into the pocket of a heavy anorak. Emily recognised her from the last mad flight through the anomaly. The woman had been calm, despite knowing that the world hadn’t escaped from the destructive power of Philip Burton’s ill-fated experiments. She’d worked for Burton in Prospero Industries as a research physicist but Emily knew her better now as someone who could calmly gut, prepare and cook just about anything the hunters brought back to the campfire. Emily liked the woman, but couldn’t remember her name. With over 500 refugees from a ruined world in the camp, that was hardly surprising.
Emily smiled. “Please do.” She held out her hand. “I’m Emily.” The woman’s grip was firm, her skin rough. Emily wondered when any of them had last been able to make use of luxuries like hand cream. Emily hadn’t been in the 21st century long enough to get used to everything it had to offer, but she’d been there long enough to miss certain things, like hot running water, hair shampoo and hand cream; things she’d not even known about when she’d last travelled extensively beyond the anomalies.
“I’m Janet.” The woman shook hands with Matt and settled down on a log next to the fire, facing the dawn. “It’s beautiful,” she said softly. “We never really got to see the sunrise in London. Too much light pollution. A friend of mine was always wanting me to give up my job and move to the countryside. He used to enjoy watching the stars, but the city was no good for that.” Her smile was tinged with sadness.
Emily presumed from Janet’s use of the past tense that her friend had not made it through the anomaly. The majority of people in their group had been touched by loss. Some spoke about it to anyone who would listen. Others simply wrapped their grief around them like a cloak and went about the daily business of survival in grim silence. Emily couldn’t say which was best. She was lucky. She still had Matt at her side. He might not be the most demonstrative of men, but he had a good heart, he was kind and she knew he loved her, even though the words didn’t come easily to his lips.
“We argued about it,” Janet said, her eyes still fixed on the dawn. “That last morning. He’d seen a house for sale in the middle of Wales. Five miles from the nearest village. He was certain we could sell our flats for enough to live on for years. I told him he was off his rocker. That was the last thing I said to him.” She wiped the tears from her eyes with her fingertips.
A man moved out of the shadow of the trees to join them. Emily smiled at him. She recognised him as one of the men who has spent much of the previous day chopping wood with the group’s only axe. Matt waved a wand at the fire and the man sat down with them.
It was always like this amongst the group who kept the fire alive. People would come and go, flitting out of the trees like shadows. Sometimes talking, sometimes not. Emily liked hearing the stories of their lives. Occasionally, she told her own tales. Not of her life with Henry, because that had very little to commend it, but of the time she’d spent wandering with the people she’d come to think of as her tribe.
But tonight, she was content just to sit and watch the dawn, Matt’s arm around her waist and his hand warm in hers.
The tales would still be there for another day, another dawn.