Fire Drabble: Modern Art
Oct. 6th, 2009 11:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kleenexwomanThey watch the fiery cloud rise above the city. Illya can almost feel heat on his face, cutting through the salt breeze. Beside him, Napoleon makes a strangled moaning sound.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Marinetti asks. The rogue THRUSH anarchist’s face is rapt, sincere. Illya imagines New York, now--monuments of steel and glass twisting into charred lacy tangles, pedestrians vaporized in an instant, their shadows etched into the concrete.
He can hear Napoleon retching over the side of the boat. How odd, Illya thinks distantly. Napoleon never gets seasick.
Marinetti glances at him and shrugs. “Not everyone appreciates modern art.”
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Marinetti asks. The rogue THRUSH anarchist’s face is rapt, sincere. Illya imagines New York, now--monuments of steel and glass twisting into charred lacy tangles, pedestrians vaporized in an instant, their shadows etched into the concrete.
He can hear Napoleon retching over the side of the boat. How odd, Illya thinks distantly. Napoleon never gets seasick.
Marinetti glances at him and shrugs. “Not everyone appreciates modern art.”