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notbantamweight) wrote2010-12-11 03:54 pm
notbantamweight) wrote2010-12-11 03:54 pm
Entry tags:
#108 - Omnia Mutantur Scene 1
It was 1:16 AM, officially the ‘graveyard shift’. The sky was dark, and the air was chill, still tainted with the grip of winter. Only a few of the brightest stars were visible, despite the notable absence of clouds, and she attributed that to the excess of light pollution spilling out from the city.
The airport terminal was silent, save for those who waited, as she was, for their flight. She already missed home, missed that she could walk outside, lie down, look up and see the Milky Way in all its glorious splendour. Beside her, her companion snuffled, and rolled over in her sleep, content to remain deep within dreamland. Out of habit, and not a little worry, she checked the tickets – two one-way economy seats with Singapore Airways, for MISS AMELYN FAYE JANE HAZEL-TAILLE and MISS VANYA KAY LOCKE, from BNE to LAX, via Singapore and Dubai. Everything was in order, as it was ten minutes ago, and before too.
The bright lights of Brisbane City filled the horizon, constrained only by the massive wall of glass, commuted slightly by ribbon-like shreds of cloud that drifted slowly across the inky depths of the umbra sky. 1.23 AM. Amelyn smiled, and made a wish. A star winked at her, and she found herself drowsing as the moments drifted on, waiting, waiting, until a rumble filled her being, and she jerked awake – the plane was here. She watched it land, the sound of tyres squealing only faint through thick glass, and taxi on over to the terminal. One hand reached out to Vanya and smoothed away a single stray lock of hair away from her closed eye, before descending to her shoulder to give it a gentle shake.
1.45 AM. Her companion blinked awake slowly, just as the plane taxied into position besides their gate. She sat up and stretched, a yawn seemingly threatening to split her face in two as weary passengers began to disgorge themselves from the protective embrace of the curved fuselage. They watched as world-weary travellers of every nation took perhaps their first, perhaps their last steps onto Australian soil. As the stream of humanity began to dry to a trickle, they waited, patient, unlike some other people, already clambering to their feet, apparently not realising the simple fact that the plane had to first be cleaned and restocked, not to mention loaded with their luggage, before any of them could take the first step into that protective cocoon from whence they would spend their next eight and three-quarter hours. Personally, Amelyn couldn’t see why the others were so keen to get on board; after all, it wasn’t like you could pick your own seat or anything.
The sky had lightened, if only by the tiniest bit, by the time (2.03 AM) Amelyn and Vanya finally entered the plane. It smelt faintly of disinfectant and humanity, of feet and tired bodies. Amelyn shuffled slowly down the corridor behind her taller, yet younger companion, slippered feet whispering softly over the worn carpet as they passed the secretive suites of first class, past the leather armchairs of business class, and finally reached their destination of the very last row in economy. The plane had very few passengers, and so they were lucky, and were able to snitch an entire row of three seats for their very own. Take off was uneventful, the semi-expected pressure pushing them deeper into their seats and popping their ears, before the seatbelt sign blinked off, and Vanya leant into Amelyn, pulling blankets around her long legs.
“Did you really have to do that so soon?” Murmured Amelyn, with only a trace of mirth in her voice, rather than the expected annoyance at Vanya’s act. Vanya blinked slowly up at her friend with sleep-filled hazel eyes, feathery fringe half-obscuring one of them, and mumbled in return,
“You aren’t complaining though.” Amelyn heaved a heavy sigh; it was true that she hadn’t said anything, and commenced wiggling and rearranging their commandeered row of three seats, shoving a pillow behind her back in an attempt to stave off the inevitable backache that came with long-distance travel. She slunk a leg down beside Vanya’s ribcage, between her body and the seat, causing a small utterance of surprise from the other, before tucking a blanket around her own broad shoulders.
“Better?” Vanya chooses to not dignify that question with words, instead snuggling deeper into Amelyn’s warm body (airplanes were cold) and yawning loudly. A smile graced Amelyn’s face and she draped her arms over Vanya’s shoulders, a hardbound notebook and pen in her hands. Another yawn rumbled out of Vanya, and she was off, slipping back into the dreams that she had not really left, even throughout the boarding procedures. Amelyn flipped open to a partially text filled page, and recommenced the character sketch she had begun at 12.19PM on Saturday, the 29th of January, 2010. Yesterday, as it were. Today was a new day, despite it not having dawned yet. Wisely enough, the hostesses chose not to start breakfast, and it seemed that most passengers had chosen, like Vanya, to resume their slumber. One paused by their row, and smiled down at Amelyn, who smiled politely back, before requesting a simple can of lemonade.
Hours passed with surprising rapidity, until Amelyn found herself roused by the delicious smell of food. She blinked awake, but the sudden movement caused her glasses, which had been precariously perched on the end of her nose, to topple, falling with a surprisingly loud clatter upon her tray table, before skittering onto the carpet. A small laugh alerted her to the fact that Vanya too had awoken from her slumber, and Amelyn let a muffled curse slip past her lips, groping around for her frames. Sleep-numbed fingers grasped the escapee frames and fumbled them back onto their rightful position on her face, and the world suddenly sprang back into sharp relief. To her eternal shame, it wasn’t just Vanya who was struck with a giggle fit, but the kind hostess from before as well!
“Manse, Vanya, pourquoi-tu ne me reveille pas?” Vanya merely grinned, and handed her a menu.
Index, yo.
Compliments? Brickbats? Tell me!
The airport terminal was silent, save for those who waited, as she was, for their flight. She already missed home, missed that she could walk outside, lie down, look up and see the Milky Way in all its glorious splendour. Beside her, her companion snuffled, and rolled over in her sleep, content to remain deep within dreamland. Out of habit, and not a little worry, she checked the tickets – two one-way economy seats with Singapore Airways, for MISS AMELYN FAYE JANE HAZEL-TAILLE and MISS VANYA KAY LOCKE, from BNE to LAX, via Singapore and Dubai. Everything was in order, as it was ten minutes ago, and before too.
The bright lights of Brisbane City filled the horizon, constrained only by the massive wall of glass, commuted slightly by ribbon-like shreds of cloud that drifted slowly across the inky depths of the umbra sky. 1.23 AM. Amelyn smiled, and made a wish. A star winked at her, and she found herself drowsing as the moments drifted on, waiting, waiting, until a rumble filled her being, and she jerked awake – the plane was here. She watched it land, the sound of tyres squealing only faint through thick glass, and taxi on over to the terminal. One hand reached out to Vanya and smoothed away a single stray lock of hair away from her closed eye, before descending to her shoulder to give it a gentle shake.
1.45 AM. Her companion blinked awake slowly, just as the plane taxied into position besides their gate. She sat up and stretched, a yawn seemingly threatening to split her face in two as weary passengers began to disgorge themselves from the protective embrace of the curved fuselage. They watched as world-weary travellers of every nation took perhaps their first, perhaps their last steps onto Australian soil. As the stream of humanity began to dry to a trickle, they waited, patient, unlike some other people, already clambering to their feet, apparently not realising the simple fact that the plane had to first be cleaned and restocked, not to mention loaded with their luggage, before any of them could take the first step into that protective cocoon from whence they would spend their next eight and three-quarter hours. Personally, Amelyn couldn’t see why the others were so keen to get on board; after all, it wasn’t like you could pick your own seat or anything.
The sky had lightened, if only by the tiniest bit, by the time (2.03 AM) Amelyn and Vanya finally entered the plane. It smelt faintly of disinfectant and humanity, of feet and tired bodies. Amelyn shuffled slowly down the corridor behind her taller, yet younger companion, slippered feet whispering softly over the worn carpet as they passed the secretive suites of first class, past the leather armchairs of business class, and finally reached their destination of the very last row in economy. The plane had very few passengers, and so they were lucky, and were able to snitch an entire row of three seats for their very own. Take off was uneventful, the semi-expected pressure pushing them deeper into their seats and popping their ears, before the seatbelt sign blinked off, and Vanya leant into Amelyn, pulling blankets around her long legs.
“Did you really have to do that so soon?” Murmured Amelyn, with only a trace of mirth in her voice, rather than the expected annoyance at Vanya’s act. Vanya blinked slowly up at her friend with sleep-filled hazel eyes, feathery fringe half-obscuring one of them, and mumbled in return,
“You aren’t complaining though.” Amelyn heaved a heavy sigh; it was true that she hadn’t said anything, and commenced wiggling and rearranging their commandeered row of three seats, shoving a pillow behind her back in an attempt to stave off the inevitable backache that came with long-distance travel. She slunk a leg down beside Vanya’s ribcage, between her body and the seat, causing a small utterance of surprise from the other, before tucking a blanket around her own broad shoulders.
“Better?” Vanya chooses to not dignify that question with words, instead snuggling deeper into Amelyn’s warm body (airplanes were cold) and yawning loudly. A smile graced Amelyn’s face and she draped her arms over Vanya’s shoulders, a hardbound notebook and pen in her hands. Another yawn rumbled out of Vanya, and she was off, slipping back into the dreams that she had not really left, even throughout the boarding procedures. Amelyn flipped open to a partially text filled page, and recommenced the character sketch she had begun at 12.19PM on Saturday, the 29th of January, 2010. Yesterday, as it were. Today was a new day, despite it not having dawned yet. Wisely enough, the hostesses chose not to start breakfast, and it seemed that most passengers had chosen, like Vanya, to resume their slumber. One paused by their row, and smiled down at Amelyn, who smiled politely back, before requesting a simple can of lemonade.
Hours passed with surprising rapidity, until Amelyn found herself roused by the delicious smell of food. She blinked awake, but the sudden movement caused her glasses, which had been precariously perched on the end of her nose, to topple, falling with a surprisingly loud clatter upon her tray table, before skittering onto the carpet. A small laugh alerted her to the fact that Vanya too had awoken from her slumber, and Amelyn let a muffled curse slip past her lips, groping around for her frames. Sleep-numbed fingers grasped the escapee frames and fumbled them back onto their rightful position on her face, and the world suddenly sprang back into sharp relief. To her eternal shame, it wasn’t just Vanya who was struck with a giggle fit, but the kind hostess from before as well!
“Manse, Vanya, pourquoi-tu ne me reveille pas?” Vanya merely grinned, and handed her a menu.
Index, yo.
Compliments? Brickbats? Tell me!