AU Digimon, part 3, fragment
Tuesday, December 16th, 2003 09:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tsaikoHave you ever written something that you asolutely hated? You thought it was quite possibly the worst stuff ever. But you didn't delete it because it was done and you figured you'd fix it later. Then, several months later, you go back to work on it and find out it's not so bad after all? That's what happened with the third part of the AU Digimon story . For those of you who have forgotten previous parts can be found here.
So here's a part of the third part. Is it fine the way it is? Does it need to have anything done ot it (other than finishing it)? I have the very last part of it done in my notebook. I just need to finish the scene with Yolei.
Enjoy.
Davis had decided that today was going to be a good day. It had dawned bright and cold. Cold enough that Davis had had to force himself to leave the warm covers of his cheap hotel bed behind. Cold enough that frost had formed crystalline patterns on the windowpanes. Cold enough to make Davis thankful he had brand new, really thick socks.
After the trip to his parent's apartment, he had gone shopping. Davis use to hate shopping. Shopping involved at least one of his parents and his sister, nagging and complaining, and would usually deteriorate into family fight before too long. The anger would last for a few hours, and was over by the time dinner was ready.
Things were different this time. This time Davis didn't have to worry about anyone but himself. There was no nagging about how that jacket wasn't sensible, or how those pants were too tight. No one told Davis he couldn't buy the red tank top that caught his eye because they were only shopping for winter clothes. Jun wasn't complaining because they hadn't spent more time in the shoe section, and his mother wasn't urging Davis to go ahead and find something so they could get back in time for dinner.
Most importantly, since it was his parent's credit cards that he was using, nothing was too expensive.
This meant that Davis had a brand new backpack full of brand new clothes, and not all of them were entirely practical.
Putting on new clothing was something Davis had never realized he'd enjoyed or missed. In the other world, most of his clothing came to him second hand. The town didn't offer him a large amount of money to maintain the lighthouse, so he had to be kind of thrifty at times. And while he had learned to mend and patch, actually making clothes was beyond him.
Besides most of the clothes on the island were made from plant fibers. Clothes in Japan were made of silk and leather and rayon and polyester and other stuff that seemed as fine as spider silk. To someone use to courser weaves, they seemed like heaven on earth.
But the best thing about the shopping trip, Davis decided as he paid his bill at the cheap hotel, was his new jacket. It was a leather bomber jacket. The lining was thick and warm, and it extended over the wide collar. The pockets had zippers, which was the coolest thing ever to someone who was constantly losing things.
It wasn't as cool as his favorite jacket had been. This new jacket was red and black with waves on the front and koi on the back, instead of being blue with flames along the bottom. Of course, the old jacket probably wouldn't fit him anymore. Davis sighed as he slung his backpack on.
Even though his favorite jacket had been tossed with the rest of his stuff, Davis had had his revenge. The jeans he was wearing weren't new. They were Jun's. In fact, every time his thoughts started to slide to something darker, Davis reminded himself of that fact. He could wear Jun's jeans. His sister had no hips. He could wear her jeans.
David had taken to singing that to himself under his breath. "I'm wearing your jeans. I'm wearing your jeans," over and over in a sign-song tone of voice. With every word, he could imagine the shocked look on Jun's face. It instantly made him feel better.
Outside the hotel, the sky was overcast and dark. It would probably sleet before the day was through. There were still people on the streets though because, well, there were always people on the street in Tokyo. So many people in such a small space set his teeth on edge. It was one of the things Davis had forgotten about the city.
He'd forgotten other things as well. How everyone seemed to be ruled by time here. How everyone seemed so impersonal and unconcerned with everyone else. How electronics and electricity and technology in general was everywhere, so much so that Davis found himself taking it for granted even though he'd spent six years without it. It was so easy to fall into old patterns and forget.
Davis had also forgotten how in Tokyo, if you walked around long enough, you'd eventually run into someone you recognized.
It was the hat that first caught Davis's attention as he moved through the crowd of people. There was nothing about the hat that should have caught his attention. It was a tan knit cap. They were pretty common on the streets at this time of year, but there was something that drew Davis to the person wearing it. Maybe something about the way they moved that was familiar to him.
When Davis was within a few feet of the person, he got a glimpse of pale hair and glasses. Recognition hit. "Yolei! Hey, Yolei!"
She paused, recognizing the name but no the voice. Then Yolei continued walking. Davis raced forward, dodging between people to get near her. He called her name again, and reached for her arm. Just as Yolei turned towards him, just as his fingers closed around her arm, Davis had the thought that this might be a bad idea.
After all, the last really clear memory he had of Yolei was of him bringing Ken's desk lamp down onto her skull.
So here's a part of the third part. Is it fine the way it is? Does it need to have anything done ot it (other than finishing it)? I have the very last part of it done in my notebook. I just need to finish the scene with Yolei.
Enjoy.
Davis had decided that today was going to be a good day. It had dawned bright and cold. Cold enough that Davis had had to force himself to leave the warm covers of his cheap hotel bed behind. Cold enough that frost had formed crystalline patterns on the windowpanes. Cold enough to make Davis thankful he had brand new, really thick socks.
After the trip to his parent's apartment, he had gone shopping. Davis use to hate shopping. Shopping involved at least one of his parents and his sister, nagging and complaining, and would usually deteriorate into family fight before too long. The anger would last for a few hours, and was over by the time dinner was ready.
Things were different this time. This time Davis didn't have to worry about anyone but himself. There was no nagging about how that jacket wasn't sensible, or how those pants were too tight. No one told Davis he couldn't buy the red tank top that caught his eye because they were only shopping for winter clothes. Jun wasn't complaining because they hadn't spent more time in the shoe section, and his mother wasn't urging Davis to go ahead and find something so they could get back in time for dinner.
Most importantly, since it was his parent's credit cards that he was using, nothing was too expensive.
This meant that Davis had a brand new backpack full of brand new clothes, and not all of them were entirely practical.
Putting on new clothing was something Davis had never realized he'd enjoyed or missed. In the other world, most of his clothing came to him second hand. The town didn't offer him a large amount of money to maintain the lighthouse, so he had to be kind of thrifty at times. And while he had learned to mend and patch, actually making clothes was beyond him.
Besides most of the clothes on the island were made from plant fibers. Clothes in Japan were made of silk and leather and rayon and polyester and other stuff that seemed as fine as spider silk. To someone use to courser weaves, they seemed like heaven on earth.
But the best thing about the shopping trip, Davis decided as he paid his bill at the cheap hotel, was his new jacket. It was a leather bomber jacket. The lining was thick and warm, and it extended over the wide collar. The pockets had zippers, which was the coolest thing ever to someone who was constantly losing things.
It wasn't as cool as his favorite jacket had been. This new jacket was red and black with waves on the front and koi on the back, instead of being blue with flames along the bottom. Of course, the old jacket probably wouldn't fit him anymore. Davis sighed as he slung his backpack on.
Even though his favorite jacket had been tossed with the rest of his stuff, Davis had had his revenge. The jeans he was wearing weren't new. They were Jun's. In fact, every time his thoughts started to slide to something darker, Davis reminded himself of that fact. He could wear Jun's jeans. His sister had no hips. He could wear her jeans.
David had taken to singing that to himself under his breath. "I'm wearing your jeans. I'm wearing your jeans," over and over in a sign-song tone of voice. With every word, he could imagine the shocked look on Jun's face. It instantly made him feel better.
Outside the hotel, the sky was overcast and dark. It would probably sleet before the day was through. There were still people on the streets though because, well, there were always people on the street in Tokyo. So many people in such a small space set his teeth on edge. It was one of the things Davis had forgotten about the city.
He'd forgotten other things as well. How everyone seemed to be ruled by time here. How everyone seemed so impersonal and unconcerned with everyone else. How electronics and electricity and technology in general was everywhere, so much so that Davis found himself taking it for granted even though he'd spent six years without it. It was so easy to fall into old patterns and forget.
Davis had also forgotten how in Tokyo, if you walked around long enough, you'd eventually run into someone you recognized.
It was the hat that first caught Davis's attention as he moved through the crowd of people. There was nothing about the hat that should have caught his attention. It was a tan knit cap. They were pretty common on the streets at this time of year, but there was something that drew Davis to the person wearing it. Maybe something about the way they moved that was familiar to him.
When Davis was within a few feet of the person, he got a glimpse of pale hair and glasses. Recognition hit. "Yolei! Hey, Yolei!"
She paused, recognizing the name but no the voice. Then Yolei continued walking. Davis raced forward, dodging between people to get near her. He called her name again, and reached for her arm. Just as Yolei turned towards him, just as his fingers closed around her arm, Davis had the thought that this might be a bad idea.
After all, the last really clear memory he had of Yolei was of him bringing Ken's desk lamp down onto her skull.
