storypaint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storypaint) wrote2011-07-03 01:00 am
storypaint) wrote2011-07-03 01:00 am
Entry tags:
[Firefly] a trillion asterisks and no explanations (Jayne gen)
Title: a trillion asterisks and no explanations
Fandom: Firefly
Length: 402 words
Prompt: fic_promptly: Firefly, Jayne, he's never been outside a spaceship. Ever.
Pairing: Jayne gen
Other: n/a
Excerpt: He's ten years old and he's never seen sky before.
He's ten years old and he's never seen sky before.
Jayne's grown up on a spaceship. He knows the corridors as well as he knows his own hands, all of the hiding places and nooks that are important when he needs to get away. His mom cares, but she's got five other mouths to feed, and sometimes he just can't stand to hear a baby cry one more time. When that happens, he sneaks out (or fails at sneaking out; pauses and puts on his jacket and takes his ship ID, because he's a good son, really).
He's seen the sky in pictures, because he goes to ship school when he can't get out of it, and he kinda likes history class, not that he'd tell anyone. There's just something fascinating about the way that people stay in one place all the time and build there, generations of people in one town. Jayne was the first baby born on this colony ship. His whole life has been transition from a homeworld reduced to history lessons to another world, unimaginable.
He can hardly believe it when he hears that they're finally going to be landing. In fact, the night before they're scheduled to, he stays up all night, crammed into his bunk. He's not going to cry, because men don't cry and his dad taught him how to be a man. He's just not sure what to expect ahead. They've arrived, and it's all new.
They have to wait in line to disembark. Jayne sees sunlight long before he actually steps into it, squinting his eyes against the brightness. When it's their turn to get off, he holds tight to his little sister's hand and just boggles. The planet is so open, never-ending: he's sure he can see for a parsec into the distance. And that sky! It doesn't hold or protect him, like the ship does. It just stretches out forever.
He shrieks and challenges his brothers to a game of tag, anything to get used to the ground and look away from the sky. And slowly he gets used to it, but he never really learns to like it. He likes ships. He likes space.
When he stows away on a passing cargo ship, at sixteen, no one in his family is surprised. Jayne's always had his head in the clouds, his mother says.
It's almost funny: that's the one thing she never quite understands about him.
Fandom: Firefly
Length: 402 words
Prompt: fic_promptly: Firefly, Jayne, he's never been outside a spaceship. Ever.
Pairing: Jayne gen
Other: n/a
Excerpt: He's ten years old and he's never seen sky before.
He's ten years old and he's never seen sky before.
Jayne's grown up on a spaceship. He knows the corridors as well as he knows his own hands, all of the hiding places and nooks that are important when he needs to get away. His mom cares, but she's got five other mouths to feed, and sometimes he just can't stand to hear a baby cry one more time. When that happens, he sneaks out (or fails at sneaking out; pauses and puts on his jacket and takes his ship ID, because he's a good son, really).
He's seen the sky in pictures, because he goes to ship school when he can't get out of it, and he kinda likes history class, not that he'd tell anyone. There's just something fascinating about the way that people stay in one place all the time and build there, generations of people in one town. Jayne was the first baby born on this colony ship. His whole life has been transition from a homeworld reduced to history lessons to another world, unimaginable.
He can hardly believe it when he hears that they're finally going to be landing. In fact, the night before they're scheduled to, he stays up all night, crammed into his bunk. He's not going to cry, because men don't cry and his dad taught him how to be a man. He's just not sure what to expect ahead. They've arrived, and it's all new.
They have to wait in line to disembark. Jayne sees sunlight long before he actually steps into it, squinting his eyes against the brightness. When it's their turn to get off, he holds tight to his little sister's hand and just boggles. The planet is so open, never-ending: he's sure he can see for a parsec into the distance. And that sky! It doesn't hold or protect him, like the ship does. It just stretches out forever.
He shrieks and challenges his brothers to a game of tag, anything to get used to the ground and look away from the sky. And slowly he gets used to it, but he never really learns to like it. He likes ships. He likes space.
When he stows away on a passing cargo ship, at sixteen, no one in his family is surprised. Jayne's always had his head in the clouds, his mother says.
It's almost funny: that's the one thing she never quite understands about him.