![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dangermousieWhat: Two character drabbles, one for Logan, one for Veronica
Fandom: Veronica Mars, no spoilers for anything past 1.06. Set sometime in early season 1.
Disclaimer: Duh. Not mine. Otherwise Logan would be contractually obligated to be buck-naked
every other ep. It's a really good exercise to get everything into a 100 words.
Logan
He resented the impermanence of scars. They are tangible proof, reminders of truth behind the masks, anchors to his reality. Every time the bruises would fade, the belt marks disappear and the cigarette burns sink back into his skin. He would will them to stay but the marks were never permanent, his father free to rewrite history every time, to etch anew.
He learned self-defense, of course. Words could not protect him, that he knew. But words could be weapons too, bitterest and best. And they could wound and leave no mark at all. Logan always was a fast learner.
Veronica
When she looks into the mirror, even now, sometimes there is a moment of surprise, a startled sense of dissonance. Does she still expect the soft eyes, the long hair, the expression that old Veronica would call “nice,” and the new one “naïve?”
Her old self is a distortion, hiding behind the shadows, just out of reach. If she located her, would she shake some sense into her, or to burst into tears of envy? She doesn’t know. The momentary mirage always disapppears, of course. If she met her now, she would have nothing to say to her, after all.
Fandom: Veronica Mars, no spoilers for anything past 1.06. Set sometime in early season 1.
Disclaimer: Duh. Not mine. Otherwise Logan would be contractually obligated to be buck-naked
every other ep. It's a really good exercise to get everything into a 100 words.
Logan
He resented the impermanence of scars. They are tangible proof, reminders of truth behind the masks, anchors to his reality. Every time the bruises would fade, the belt marks disappear and the cigarette burns sink back into his skin. He would will them to stay but the marks were never permanent, his father free to rewrite history every time, to etch anew.
He learned self-defense, of course. Words could not protect him, that he knew. But words could be weapons too, bitterest and best. And they could wound and leave no mark at all. Logan always was a fast learner.
Veronica
When she looks into the mirror, even now, sometimes there is a moment of surprise, a startled sense of dissonance. Does she still expect the soft eyes, the long hair, the expression that old Veronica would call “nice,” and the new one “naïve?”
Her old self is a distortion, hiding behind the shadows, just out of reach. If she located her, would she shake some sense into her, or to burst into tears of envy? She doesn’t know. The momentary mirage always disapppears, of course. If she met her now, she would have nothing to say to her, after all.
