|The Lost Holy Texts
Author: WhisperedMuse PM
Listen all you people, come gather round'. Collection of one-shots and stories about all characters, though most will probably be Meat/Oz Centric. Rated T for Language.Rated: Fiction T - English - Chapters: 3 - Words: 2,817 - Reviews: 6 - Favs: 1 - Follows: 2 - Updated: 04-26-12 - Published: 01-01-09 - id: 4760135
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I'm back with a below-par one-shot. I was listening to American Idiot and reading WWRY fic for the first time in a long time and decided I need to start writing again because my brain was turning to jelly. Unbeta-d and not thoroughly proof-read by me as yet. Edits in the morning.
For Crimson Suspense because I owe her (more than) one. Thank you for being patient and waiting for this – you rock.
Also, dedicated to the WWRY FFN originals who one by one have left us...
Disclaimer: Don't own it, blah blah blah.
I walked for miles til' I found you…
Meatloaf was not a patient person. She never had been and it wasn't going to change any time soon. It was unfortunate for all the other bohemians that her impatience had only aged with her. It became bigger, meaner and more colourful as she grew up until most people knew to avoid her like the plague if she was ever waiting for something. Yes, Meatloaf's impatient rants had been known to empty even the bar of tipsy bohemians – and that was no easy feat.
However today Meat wasn't ranting. Or pacing… Or swearing? She was just sitting and staring. It was scary. Prince chanced shuffling over to her to check she wasn't comatose. He stood facing her side, slowly bending at his middle until his nose was an inch away from her ear. His breath must have been tickling her but still she made no attempt to move or even look around so Prince did something drastic. He extended his tongue, brow furrowing with concentration, neck moving towards her further and used the wet muscle to lick her ear. Meat flinched and - no she just flinched. What the hell? Prince had braced for impact; right down to his screwed up eyes and a precautionary hand just in front of his cheek, palm facing the stock-still bohemian in preparation for pain. Meat was definitely a girl in some ways, but not when it came to physical violence. She hurt. Always.
The next thing Prince realised when he opened his eyes was that Meat had gone. Literally just gotten up and walked – well, stalked, out of the Heartbreak and into the tunnels, not even looking back to throw a two-finger salute over her shoulder at the older Scotsman.
The tunnels extended beyond the boundaries of the sector the Heartbreak was under. If you wanted, you could easily get lost in their never-ending darkness forever. But Meat had no intention of getting lost; in fact she was out to find something, well, someone. Brit had gone in search of the dreamer again, which never failed to make Meat both nervous and annoyed because he never let her go with him. Not that she didn't trust him – far from it. But it was dangerous, Brit was sometimes gone for days on end and she got lonely. Other bohemians were beginning to call her selfish. The newer ones, the ones who hadn't seen the constant struggle of resistance versus Globalsoft. They thought that because she wanted him at the Heartbreak, wanted him safe, that she wasn't doing her bit for the cause anymore. Maybe they were right. What was the point in constantly searching for something that may or may not exist? What was the point if he died searching? Always lingering at the back of her head were thoughts of family. Meat may not want children, but she wanted to feel like part of a family. She'd never had a loving home, now she'd found one; who could blame her for wanting to keep everything safe? She turned a corner and tripped over a piece of jagged polycarbon sticking out of the ground.
"Shit." Her Scottish twang rang out and echoed through the tunnels. This was turning into a bit of a joke now. She had been everywhere. Meat even attempted to track him. She knew exactly what Prince would be making of that if he had heard. Her mild agitation soon turned to desperation as her mind came up with a million different 'what ifs'. He could be lost, dead, abducted. Many stories had been told about bohemians that were abducted and never came back – or did, without their spirit. Of course the party threat was being shipped off to the Seven Seas of Rhye, but at least there you could be looked after.
She turned around sharply at a sudden sound to her right; her dreads spinning so fast some hit her straight in the eye. Artificial sunlight was shining through a hole in the ceiling of the tunnel, dust particle flying everywhere. A foot was sticking out of it, dangling recklessly from the roof. After her eyes adjusted to the light, Meat could tell exactly whose rusty boot it was and she wasted no time in running towards it, uncaring whether she tripped again. Relief washed over her as she slowed and looked upwards, her boyfriend enthusiastically scrabbling up to the surface.
"What do you think you're playing at, you big brute?" She resisted the urge to tag on an 'I was worried sick' to the end of the question. He was clearly engrossed in something, this area of tunnels was pretty much undiscovered territory as far as 'dreamer-patrol' went, and evidently Brit had found something to get excited about.
"Never mind that now babes, hand me the bag from down there will ya? I was trying to come back down for it and got stuck!" Meat rolled her eyes fondly (not that he could see that of course' and stooped down, swinging her arm through the bag loop and using the force to throw it up to the waiting hand that was poking through the hole where the foot had been minutes before. "It's pretty clear up there, Meat!" A miniscule ounce of doubt crept into her brain – this place was new, and strange, Rock Gods knows what was waiting for them at the surface; but she'd rather be there to protect Brit than cowering in the tunnels like something soft. "Well be careful… I'm coming up too!"
And the rest is history.