Little Death Pt. I
Falling into a cloud is a rather awkward thing to do. Due to a number of reasons, there is something odd about it all. Firstly, clouds seem quite pure, bright and perfect from the outside. On the inside however, not so much. A grasping thick darkness, and a revolutionising cold. Secondly, should you find yourself falling through a cloud, you'd experience a surprisingly tremendous difficulty trying to figure out where one cloud ends, and another one begins.
Also, if you happen to not have a parachute or something of the sorts handy, the whole business of approaching the ground at a pleasant velocity instead of, say, terminal, becomes rather tricky. Luckily, the girl currently residing in this awkward position of dropping through the sky without a parachute is not in need of one. Passing through the mountainous cumulus clouds, she enjoys the cold sensation of frosted dust caressing her cheeks, ignores the shivers trying to reach up her spine as they travel down through her sweaters neck, and smirks at the thought of the ground approaching appallingly quickly.
At a pleasant height the ground shifts to match her verticality, and places it self neatly under her feet as she slows down to a stop.
Her blue eyes seem inexplicably teeming with excitement, considering that she's standing still on the top floor of a car park that undoubtedly would score low on a scale of excitement, whichever one you pick.
Besides the girl stands a boy. He has a facial expression which somehow manages to be modest and Iknowyouloveit-ish at the same time. She turns to him.
"It wasn't nearly as cold as it usually is. Are you getting soft?" she teases.
The boy closes his hand, extinguishing a blue pulsing light seemingly coming from the palm as he does, and rolls his eyes.
"You're going to get addicted."
A bit late for that, she thinks, as she grabs his arm and lowers him down to hugging height. He's a rather tall boy, sort of skinny and slightly long haired. She's a rather short girl, sort of skinny and abnormally long haired.
"You beauty." she whispers.
"Missing Mias?" he responds.
"I know it's a silly phrase, but I'm not used to going so long without hearing him say it."
"I could say it, until he comes back."
She smiles that sort of smile that means thank you for trying, but sadly it won't help, then gives him a kiss on the cheeks, and starts walking back to class. Thankfully, Alec thinks, without looking back to catch him blushing.
Sun light strobes through some trees and passes through the trains windows, behind one of which a boy sits. His eyes are closed, yet the warm white light flashes in his sight. There are some excellent perks of taking train, he thinks as he opens his eyes and observes the platform belonging, and indeed sticking rather firmly, to Sandvika Station float past his window. Sadly, arriving on time is not one of them in Norway; a country in which using the phrase "that train has left the station" translates to being so abysmally late you might as well go home and have a cry.
Checking his watch only ads to the feeling he already had that he was not in for a treat when he finally met up with the girl of his dreams, who on a completely arbitrary but not unnoticed note, has given him one chance of taking her out on a date. Which means something the sorts of eight hours of travelling by bus and plane on schedule, from West Croydon to Oslo, and then merely 20 minutes of train from Oslo to Sandvika, during which whoever notices these arbitrary notes decided to not only have the train be late, but also, when it finally got around to leave, have it go off in the wrong direction all together. This summing up to his ETA having gone of for a cry around 40 minutes ago, leaving him at the train station without any reasonable time estimate to keep him company as he looks for the girl and an excuse.
After 20 minutes of finding neither he decides to at least enjoy himself a bit while he's back home for the weekend, and starts making his way over the bridge to a small café as the sky turns gray. Halfway over, a bright white light surrounds him silently, and takes all other sounds with it, leaving him standing still for a bit, wondering what the actual fuck just happened. Those walking nearby are slightly more shocked, as they indeed do hear the sound lightning makes as it hits the ground, and most jump quite energetically to put a more reasonable distance between themselves and this whole scorched bridge business. The light fades immediately, revealing a glowing blue, opaque sphere surrounding an understandably confused looking boy. As the sphere in turn fades, a small glint of shimmers in the air besides him allows a rather tall boy to step out of the shimmers and onto the bridge, causing some of the onlookers to start considering reevaluating their idea of what reality really is, and if it's maybe having a bit of a wierd day. As the tall boy grabs the shorter one and both disappear into more shimmers they collectively agree that reality clearly doesn't care much of what anyone thinks of it.
