Or stealing them back, anyway.
Ten years. A lot can happen in that time. Lots of close calls, not just the "almost" meetings that never happened, but life-threatening incidents that nearly took the tomorrows away. And I'm so very tired of losing chances and kissing tomorrows goodbye.
Ten years. That's how long he and I have been playing together, writing together, working together. It's how long we've been friends, and yet, we'd never met face to face.
Today, I stole one of those tomorrows back.
Pooka and the landshark, in the same place, at the same time. My partner at Deviation: Android, the brain behind Dax Knight, and Alex the Hunter, and Tarin. My partner in crime, the inspiration behind half the images I've created.
Surreal, how the moment drifts away already. Surreal while we were there, how perfectly normal it seemed. Ten years is a long time to get to know someone, and despite it being the first physical meeting, it was ... familiar, and thus quite surreal. Quite a few moments where neither of us had to say anything while Thing 2 and DG were going off on each other, just a Look that said everything. "You SEE what I have to live with?" Easy. Surreal.
Of course, surreal is also realizing just how tall 6'7" really is. I felt like a tiny little china doll sitting beside him. His hands are easily twice the size of mine if not more.
This time, I didn't lose "Tomorrow". I made it a Today instead.
Here's to another ten years, partner.
No dying, m'kay?
Veni, Vidi, Ventus --
The randomly chaotic and crafty scribblings of a deranged, wannabe artist allowed too many colours in her Crayon box.
Surgeon General's Warning: Some content of "From Pooka's Crayon" may not be suitable for: work, blue-haired little old ladies, the politically-correct, rabid moonbats, uptight mothers, priests, chronic idiots, insurance claims agents, Democrats, children, small furry quadropeds from Alpha Centauri, or your sanity.
The randomly chaotic and crafty scribblings of a deranged, wannabe artist allowed too many colours in her Crayon box.
Surgeon General's Warning: Some content of "From Pooka's Crayon" may not be suitable for: work, blue-haired little old ladies, the politically-correct, rabid moonbats, uptight mothers, priests, chronic idiots, insurance claims agents, Democrats, children, small furry quadropeds from Alpha Centauri, or your sanity.
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