301 words. I should really stop lighting scented candles all over the place; I keep staring at them and can't concentrate on anything. XD
This was written to kind of explore my murky ideas for one of my characters in an upcoming (and untitled -_-) project.
"Fire," he said, the flame flickering in the palm of his hand. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"
As if guided by an unfelt wind, the flame began to flash, jumping up and casting frenzied shadows that flashed like broken lights. His eyes shone, reflecting the orange light, as a slow, empty grin spread itself across his face. He watched, entranced; his fingers began to close around the bud, and she marveled at the way that his fingers remained unburnt, untouched by the glow.
"My first memory," he said in a hushed whisper, eyes still fixed on the bud of light, "was of looking at a flame. My mother loved to light candles around the house, and I remembered thinking that the flame looked so gentle, so soft. Like it was dancing."
He broke his gaze and glanced at her face. She remained expressionless.
"So you know what I did?" The smile spread itself across his face again. "I touched it. Reached out my hand, my fingers trembling, and touched that beautiful, soft creature." His tongue flicked out and wet his lips. "And then she came in, my mother, and screamed. Screamed; I remembered wondering why she thought that it was so frightening... it was like getting tickled, really, the flame touching my hand. And from there on out, she wouldn't let me close to flames." His eyebrows drew together. "Ever."
She raised her eyebrows. "Looks like it didn't work."
He shook his head, his blond hair falling into his dark red eyes. "Nope. I don't think she even knew." He frowned. "Probably didn't realize it even at the end." He shrugged and violently crushed the flame in his hand, and the room was plunged into darkness. "She never was very smart..."
Notes: Funnily enough, this male character appeared in my mind initially with brown, auburn-ish hair, but he somehow turned blond in the process, lol. He was, initially, supposed to be very meek, a very mild child, not one who you'd expect to control fire of all things. But as this progressed, he deviated more from that initial concept, and I'm not sure whether I like it or not, lol.
Erm, basically, the backstory that developed from this drabble was that he never quite liked his mother—not that he, really, had any reason to; he just didn't—and he burned down his house and pretty much half of the village when he was nine. Firefighters came to the scene too late; police came to investigate; he was eventually hauled off and sent to a foster home... where he began to burn things again. Gov officials come again, find that he has quite a bit of power and talent for being such a young age, and take him off to the camp or whatever the hell it is where Ree is. Yadda yadda. Train him, blah blah.
He's kind of masochistic. Fire maestri must have a source of fuel, such as food or drink, that lasts them and allows them to just create flames from nothing. But if they haven't eaten for a while and they try to create a flame, they'll start burning their fat and eventually will turn themselves into a pile of ashes. He does this quite often. It disturbs other people, but he revels in it.
Sick bastard, LOL.
As of yet, he's unnamed, but I think he'll be called October. Only he and the government officials know his real name; he tells others that his name is October because "that's the months when the leaves burn and fall off tree branches, like a sort of fiery snow". His real name's Olin Collamore or something to that effect.