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anenkolife, death (present, future)
Push | Pop Girl | PG13
This is her gift. A Yuletide treat for custardpringle.
i. life
She teaches herself to draw, using nothing but anatomy texts and her own sharp eye for detail. Father has no patience for a child's scribblings, and she wishes only to please him. Her pen is expert at capturing the shape of the city, it's streets, it's people.
She meticulously, skillfully records her visions with pen and paper. She takes no joy in her skill. That her visions make the Pop family strong is not enough.
Her visions show her no future where she is good enough for her father's love.
*
Father is old-fashioned. He speaks of men's business, and of battles between men. He sees that she is useful, but does not believe that she is strong.
She draws her brother's death, taking pains to capture the broken angles of his body, the dark red of his blood. His eyes are wide and horrified in her picture: he will not die easily, her brother. She leaves the drawing at the head of his bed.
It is her brother who first hands her a gun; it is her brother who teaches her to shoot. It is harder than she anticipated, but she endures. She already knows herself to be capable of killing.
Such is her gift.
*
The Division comes to Hong Kong, arrogant and lacking in respect. They bring their troubles to the Pop family's territory, and show no respect for the Pop family's power. The Division is a dangerous enemy.
The Pop family has the future trembling at it's fingertips.
Father sits, still and silent. Her worth diminishes in his eyes with every second the pages of her notebook remain blank. Her body curls over the empty page, fingers tight around her pen. Her brothers shift behind her, their feet scrapping restlessly against the floor. Beyond the edges of her notebook lays a gun, the perfect fit to her hand.
The future unfurls before her.
She draws.
*
She knows every line, every twist and turn of the city's streets. The dark corners and bright lights of Hong Kong belong to her: they flare to life behind her closed eyelids, deeper and truer than sight. That the American child should elude her in her own home is intolerable.
That her brothers should suggest that the child is a better Watcher makes shame run hot beneath her skin. What is she but this: pen, paper, possibility?
In her visions, the American child dies again, again, again. Not soon enough.
*
There are futures that she tells no one of: futures where the Pop family is brought to ruin; futures where they scatter and die, and their name fades to nothing in the city's long memory.
She calls these futures nightmares, and refuses to believe. Father is strong, her brothers and brave, and she. . .
She is the guiding hand behind them all.
*
ii. death
She wakes up, and everything is gone.
Push | Pop Girl | PG13
This is her gift. A Yuletide treat for custardpringle.
i. life
She teaches herself to draw, using nothing but anatomy texts and her own sharp eye for detail. Father has no patience for a child's scribblings, and she wishes only to please him. Her pen is expert at capturing the shape of the city, it's streets, it's people.
She meticulously, skillfully records her visions with pen and paper. She takes no joy in her skill. That her visions make the Pop family strong is not enough.
Her visions show her no future where she is good enough for her father's love.
*
Father is old-fashioned. He speaks of men's business, and of battles between men. He sees that she is useful, but does not believe that she is strong.
She draws her brother's death, taking pains to capture the broken angles of his body, the dark red of his blood. His eyes are wide and horrified in her picture: he will not die easily, her brother. She leaves the drawing at the head of his bed.
It is her brother who first hands her a gun; it is her brother who teaches her to shoot. It is harder than she anticipated, but she endures. She already knows herself to be capable of killing.
Such is her gift.
*
The Division comes to Hong Kong, arrogant and lacking in respect. They bring their troubles to the Pop family's territory, and show no respect for the Pop family's power. The Division is a dangerous enemy.
The Pop family has the future trembling at it's fingertips.
Father sits, still and silent. Her worth diminishes in his eyes with every second the pages of her notebook remain blank. Her body curls over the empty page, fingers tight around her pen. Her brothers shift behind her, their feet scrapping restlessly against the floor. Beyond the edges of her notebook lays a gun, the perfect fit to her hand.
The future unfurls before her.
She draws.
*
She knows every line, every twist and turn of the city's streets. The dark corners and bright lights of Hong Kong belong to her: they flare to life behind her closed eyelids, deeper and truer than sight. That the American child should elude her in her own home is intolerable.
That her brothers should suggest that the child is a better Watcher makes shame run hot beneath her skin. What is she but this: pen, paper, possibility?
In her visions, the American child dies again, again, again. Not soon enough.
*
There are futures that she tells no one of: futures where the Pop family is brought to ruin; futures where they scatter and die, and their name fades to nothing in the city's long memory.
She calls these futures nightmares, and refuses to believe. Father is strong, her brothers and brave, and she. . .
She is the guiding hand behind them all.
*
ii. death
She wakes up, and everything is gone.
