Full Spectrum

"There must be some way out of here," said the joker to the thief. "There's too much confusion; I can't get no relief." - Brennen McCreary, All Along The Watchtower

I don't see the point of sleep anymore. I know the scientific reasoning, but artistically, adventurously, there's no point. I'm seventeen now, and I'm only twelve. I've spent a third of my life submerged in the blackness of dreams.

I've been living more, staying up later, and it's wondrous. It's like someone tinted my world Prismacolor. I think it's letting me go free.

Now there's always a beat in my blood. Drums, strings, and flutes roar in my ears, and colors are dancing at my fingertips. I tell myself I want a science-math major, but it's hard to believe when I'm trying to sit still in calc. The music in my head is screaming for me to dance, spin, jump over the desks.

Crossover!!

Battlestar Greylactica. Or Battlestar's Anatomy. Haha, that one sucked. Um... Grey's Battlestar. Grey's Galactica. Hahaaa, no. 

Let's just say Battlestar Greylactica.

:)

This is what I was thinking of for Living Circle, vaguely. This would be such a legit setting for something....

Battlestar Galactica: Sixteen Now

A/N- Laura's mother is called Judith. She's referred to as 'Jude' here a couple times.

Laura Roslin stepped onto the fleet's newest battlestar, Galactica. It was painted dark gray with florescent lights and metal furniture. She clicked down the hall in her newest heels, following the others. She was a runner-up in a political essay contest, and this was the prize.

She hadn't wanted to come, but Jude Roslin had insisted it was a good opportunity. They had gone shopping for clothes the day the letter had come. Now she was the only one dressed fancier than un-ripped jeans and a sweater. White eyelet dress, nylons, four-inch black heels, smooth black suit jacket. On top of that, her mother had curled her hair.

I look ridiculous. I just have to make the best of it, though. Knees bent, toe to heel. Shoulders straight, chin up. She flicked her hair over her shoulder, taking pride in her head-and-a-half over the others and the professional click of her heels on the floor. She carefully kept her eyes on the ship and her fighters.