Post by Jeremy on Mar 24, 2007 3:35:55 GMT
This is just a ficlet idea I've had in mind for a while and finally got around to writing, partially due to a convo with Clez last night. ;-)
“The red one smells like cherries, you guys! Gimme the brown one! Cinnamon! The brown one’s cinnamon!” Another deep inhale and Jeremy continued to grin, showing the same excitement over the scented markers as the two apparent grade schoolers he was sharing them with. At times it was true that when not engrossed in Historian duties, Jeremy spent more time with the young ones in the pack than he did with the adults. Not that he minded at all. Kids got Jeremy, and Jeremy got kids, that’s just the way it was. There was some sort of unspoken understanding, probably due to the fact that a percentage of him was stuck in child like mentality, and quite likely would be for the entirety of his existence. Never mind the fact that the pack’s unofficial babysitter oftentimes needed a babysitter himself.
The markers, along with paper, colored pencils and other things, were scattered about the floor of the playroom. However, only the first on that list were being manhandled and passed around amongst the little group. “How do they do this? How do they do this?” Never mind the fact that Jeremy knew full and well, with his mind chock full of random facts and knowledge as it was. There were simply times where letting yourself wonder at the apparent impossibility of something was better than knowing the plausible reality of it. Sometimes facts just took the magic out of things. Letting yourself ‘forget’ that it was a simple combination of oils added to the ink that produced the smell was much preferable to remembering. Maybe that was why Jeremy acted as he did so often- when you knew as much as he did sometimes you just had to find little ways to put the magic back into life. And that in order to do so, to a certain extent silliness was simply required. Or maybe he was just a big kid who was never going to grow up for no other reason than because he just didn’t want to.
Getting a big whiff of the final one in the pile, Jeremy reeled back, making an appropriate noise and covering his nose as he examined the label on the marker. “Ugh, what is that?” What was this one supposed to be? Licorice? He thinks not. There was always one that didn’t quite smell like it was supposed to, wasn’t there? “This one’s horrible you guys, seriously.” Without hesitation, Jeremy palmed the marker possessively and reached for the nearest piece of paper. “I’m keeping it.” Why, exactly, he wanted to keep the stinkiest marker to himself, no one may ever know. The declaration was immediately met with protests and requests to smell it as well, but Jeremy shook his head, goofy grin in full effect. “No, this one’s mine.” That declaration was met with playful yells, as well as a full on tackle that Jeremy somehow managed to recover from, bounding up as he held the marker aloft while trying to evade the two who were determined to get it from him. Eventually he would share, whether it be through being conquered by the opposing forces or simply relinquishing since Jeremy did play well with others. But right now there was no way he was giving up the last marker without a fight.
“The red one smells like cherries, you guys! Gimme the brown one! Cinnamon! The brown one’s cinnamon!” Another deep inhale and Jeremy continued to grin, showing the same excitement over the scented markers as the two apparent grade schoolers he was sharing them with. At times it was true that when not engrossed in Historian duties, Jeremy spent more time with the young ones in the pack than he did with the adults. Not that he minded at all. Kids got Jeremy, and Jeremy got kids, that’s just the way it was. There was some sort of unspoken understanding, probably due to the fact that a percentage of him was stuck in child like mentality, and quite likely would be for the entirety of his existence. Never mind the fact that the pack’s unofficial babysitter oftentimes needed a babysitter himself.
The markers, along with paper, colored pencils and other things, were scattered about the floor of the playroom. However, only the first on that list were being manhandled and passed around amongst the little group. “How do they do this? How do they do this?” Never mind the fact that Jeremy knew full and well, with his mind chock full of random facts and knowledge as it was. There were simply times where letting yourself wonder at the apparent impossibility of something was better than knowing the plausible reality of it. Sometimes facts just took the magic out of things. Letting yourself ‘forget’ that it was a simple combination of oils added to the ink that produced the smell was much preferable to remembering. Maybe that was why Jeremy acted as he did so often- when you knew as much as he did sometimes you just had to find little ways to put the magic back into life. And that in order to do so, to a certain extent silliness was simply required. Or maybe he was just a big kid who was never going to grow up for no other reason than because he just didn’t want to.
Getting a big whiff of the final one in the pile, Jeremy reeled back, making an appropriate noise and covering his nose as he examined the label on the marker. “Ugh, what is that?” What was this one supposed to be? Licorice? He thinks not. There was always one that didn’t quite smell like it was supposed to, wasn’t there? “This one’s horrible you guys, seriously.” Without hesitation, Jeremy palmed the marker possessively and reached for the nearest piece of paper. “I’m keeping it.” Why, exactly, he wanted to keep the stinkiest marker to himself, no one may ever know. The declaration was immediately met with protests and requests to smell it as well, but Jeremy shook his head, goofy grin in full effect. “No, this one’s mine.” That declaration was met with playful yells, as well as a full on tackle that Jeremy somehow managed to recover from, bounding up as he held the marker aloft while trying to evade the two who were determined to get it from him. Eventually he would share, whether it be through being conquered by the opposing forces or simply relinquishing since Jeremy did play well with others. But right now there was no way he was giving up the last marker without a fight.