http://abases.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
abases.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
paradisalost2010-07-08 11:01 pm
abases.livejournal.com) wrote in paradisalost2010-07-08 11:01 pm
Entry tags:
〉〉ONE
[ There's a clatter of pens being knocked over along with the holder, rolling clatterclack across the wooden top of the table, then silence. But not for long. Slight, barely-there rasping sound of the rough pads of fingers sliding over paper before a smoother, hollower series of quiet taps interrupt the near-silence as he finds the dark tabletop.
Nothing on the pages that he could feel, nothing on the table apart from the pens now scattered all over the surface. There are furnitures, yes. He'd felt them; chair, table, bed. All of them unfamiliar.
Even without seeing, Giovanni is sure that this is a room that he had never been in before.
He says nothing, just slides his hands over the surface of the table, feeling the edges digging into the palms of his hands and gripping harder. Hard enough to feel a stinging pain shooting up the arms. It's nothing much, but it slows his blood down, calms the hackles rising in the back of his neck the choked up feeling in his throat, and the line of his shoulders relaxes a fraction.
And a sigh; short, sharp and hidden. But it's rather more like a huff of breath; an even noise. But there's just an edge of uncertainty, a sliver of some shakiness to the way his breath trails near the end, that speaks of frustration more than anything.
Closing his eyes, gritting his teeth. But what's the use in that? ]
Useless.
[ One word, and that only, before he abruptly pushes himself away from the table, the legs screeching against the floor as the force drags the table flush against the wall. It jolts the book off the edge of the table, and it falls to the floor with a heavy thud, the covers snapping shut and cutting off the feed. ]
Nothing on the pages that he could feel, nothing on the table apart from the pens now scattered all over the surface. There are furnitures, yes. He'd felt them; chair, table, bed. All of them unfamiliar.
Even without seeing, Giovanni is sure that this is a room that he had never been in before.
He says nothing, just slides his hands over the surface of the table, feeling the edges digging into the palms of his hands and gripping harder. Hard enough to feel a stinging pain shooting up the arms. It's nothing much, but it slows his blood down, calms the hackles rising in the back of his neck the choked up feeling in his throat, and the line of his shoulders relaxes a fraction.
And a sigh; short, sharp and hidden. But it's rather more like a huff of breath; an even noise. But there's just an edge of uncertainty, a sliver of some shakiness to the way his breath trails near the end, that speaks of frustration more than anything.
Closing his eyes, gritting his teeth. But what's the use in that? ]
Useless.
[ One word, and that only, before he abruptly pushes himself away from the table, the legs screeching against the floor as the force drags the table flush against the wall. It jolts the book off the edge of the table, and it falls to the floor with a heavy thud, the covers snapping shut and cutting off the feed. ]