If you Love Somebody, Better tell them while they're Here
Alternative title: Archer Gets Cultured and Eats Pizza (oh and proceeds to fall asleep)
This is finally happening @Samantha Salwis. This started out as a joke and a really simple thread. It has become a small collection of Archer's childhood memories in a vignette style before everything falls apart. Sorry there's only one line of him actually eating lol. Enjoy.
Was it peculiar that Archer Theodore Duncan had never eaten pizza?
Perhaps to others, but among the many other aspects of the world he had not yet experienced, the fact did not seem too drastic, unlike how his peers perceived it- or his mother. It was their last day in Winnipeg, Canada, an absolutely picturesque city belonging to a painting, especially her rural mountain towns, often untouched by the bustle of tourists, much to the mother and son's delight. Yet goodbyes, as they were, were often bittersweet and so to draw the parting to a gorgeous closing, Marguerite decided the time had come to introduce her son to the sweet and savoury meal.
They had chosen a classic cheese, with a smothering of sauce and sprinkles of mozzarella that had melted into a silky, creamy sauce-like topping. The mother and son, silhouettes inside a window, a shining beacon under the Winnipeg summer storm, over the intersection of the Red and Assiniboine River. The chatter of the pizzeria faded into an indistinct mumbling as Archer leaned against Maman his hair melting into the large dark mass of hers, their eyes locking, Archer's with an eager glint present in adolescents and Marguerite's a soft doting of a gradually aging mother. Ruffling his hair, which had grown significantly longer since he had started at Hogwarts, the cartographer leaned back with a grin - as if they had just shared some inside joke - her teeth glinting under the fluorescent lighting. Archer nestled deeper into her embrace as she tightened her arms, his arm lazily reaching for another slice of pizza. The slice was not quite finished as he felt his eyelids drooping down despite himself. 'Je vous aime,1' he murmured softly into her shirt, unsure if she had heard him or not, though not caring. 'Je t'aime aussi,2' she replied, bending down to bestow a tender kiss on to his forehead. 'Je t'aimerai quoi qu'il arrive.3' Archer would not hear her say that, nor would he remember much of the night, yet what he would remember was his dream, or rather a flashback, as he drifted into nothingness.
A taste of bliss before a catastrophe.
1: I love you
2: I love you too
3: I will love you no matter what.
Title & Inspiration From: On Top of the World - Imagine Dragons
Thank you Pericles for the banner!
Reducio
Last edited by Archer Duncan on 16 Jun 2024, 13:58, edited 1 time in total.
I am not even singed. My wings are untouched. You use them for everything, except flight.
Liliya Starkova| Anthonie Engelbrecht
Liliya Starkova| Anthonie Engelbrecht
If you Love Somebody, Better tell them while they're Here
One night in Archer's bedroom, age unclear, possibly early childhood.
Maman tells me I was born on the top of the world. She tells me I am the hero, Perseus, in the story and I will grow to change the world. I do not think I would ever change the world, but perhaps she will prove me otehrwise. Her voice is soft, almost Zephyr-like, offering a stark contrast to Boreas' drafts, only halted by the thick glass windows. Her words are as elegant as the flawless dove, prancing about as if they are joyous does. There is no scratch in her throat, fresh as the newly picked flower and smooth as a babe's bottom. It is an alluring sound, almost hypnotic, almost music. It lulls me to sleep, even though I want to hear more of the tale. I fixate my eyes on hers as they shine subtly in the candlelight, flickering about with gold and orange specks as the candle threatened to go out. The skin around them crinkles as her lips are spread into a warmhearted smile that would win over the fireplace's heat any day. As her fingers - delicate, that of a well-practiced pianist's - linger on the cover, as if ready to close the book, I blink my eyes - as I have looked at the flame for too long a time - and tell her, 'Maman, please continue. I want to know what happens to Perseus.'
She leans back in her chair and shifts, as if preparing to finish the story for me. The blanket on her legs ripple with her movement, as if it is the surface of a disrupted pond. I could almost imagine the frogs jumping onto lily pads, clinging onto them as if they were some sort of treasure, or schools of fish swarming around the edge, awaiting feeding from passing pedestrians. Shadows freely frolic behind her, tree trunks becoming proud parents, tree branches becoming racing children, leaves becoming flowers in the meadow they ran through, their colours seemingly blooming right onto the wall. I could almost hear their laughter over Maman's chiding for me to rest. I think I live such a life. I think I run as freely through Scotland's Misty Isle's mountains and valleys as they the meadow. The only difference is that I do not have as many friends as told in the shadows. But I do have Maman, and Maman was enough. And I do not need anyone other than Maman (and Papa, of course, and Scout).
'Maman, do you swear to be my best friend forever and ever?' She is a little taken aback by the question, but does not hesitate, not even slightly in her answer. 'Bien sûr 1,' she says her tone almost amused, yet almost bitter, though I cannot understand the reason, 'I will be your best friend forever and ever. And I know you will be my best friend, forever and ever, right?' My answer is almost as swift as hers, and enthusiastic too, so much so that I sit up from my previous supine position that had been slightly propped up by various pillows, 'Évidemment2, Maman! And you will take me on all your wondrous adventures, right? I want to go to Germany, Canada, Switzerland, Poland, Morocco, or wherever you go. Because best friends always stick together.' As she does not answer, I droop back down, for I could not make out what she was expressing to me through her body language. Her back becomes stiffer, and her lips almost purse. 'What's wrong? Did I say something wrong?' I ask innocently, for I truly do not comprehend what she has in mind. I force myself to think about the rollicking shadows as she does not reply. Eventually she says, 'I think we should go to bed now. Sorry, Archie, I'm positively tired today.'
Maman tucks me into bed as she always does, yet her usual steady caress is replaced with hands slightly shaky. She still kisses me good night, as she always does, and despite her seemingly distraught state, her lips are still as soft as cream. 'Bonne nuit, mon cherie.3' She blows out the candle, smothering the joyous children, before she departs and closes the door with a gentle click. The darkness envelops me, suffocating my thoughts, drawing a veil across them as Nyx draws the veil of night across the sky. I am left in my room, which has never felt so uncanny and I could not sleep, even as the wind halted his howling song and I am left without any other companionship.
Somehow my eyes droop to a close. And I think, that for the first time I can remember, I must be alone.
To this day, Archer still could not fathom what he could have possibly said that deterred her. Perhaps he does not want to know himself.
1: Of course
2: Of course
3: Good night, my dear.
I am not even singed. My wings are untouched. You use them for everything, except flight.
Liliya Starkova| Anthonie Engelbrecht
Liliya Starkova| Anthonie Engelbrecht