Quickie ficcie
Feb. 21st, 2007 08:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lukon_ideinI've been a busy little beaver lately - actually doing things I'm SUPPOSED to be doing. But today's gymnastics involved in translating Pliny the F*#&%ing Younger has put me in a rather fuzzy-headed, overloaded frame of mind. It hurt my brain. So I whipped up a quickie fic for the latest GW500 challenge. It probably sucks lemons, but I tried. What the hay.
Sorry to post and run - Wednesday night's bar night here in the Armpit of the Universe. There's a Newcastle calling my name as we speak. Weeehaaaaaa!
Title: Interwoven
Author: Lukoni
Characters: Trowa/Quatre
Word Count: ca. 380
Summary: Trowa is at a loss for words at on an important occasion.
Rating: G
Warnings: Introspection. Ruminations on death.
Notes: Written for GW500 challenge #160: Prompt. Feedback/Criticism/Typo notifications welcome. Thanks for reading!
Interwoven
Silence resounded through the hall. Thoughts raced through Trowa’s mind as he neglected to speak. Thoughts of destruction. Of killing. Of how tenuous the thread of life is. How easy it is to snuff it out. And the grief it leaves behind. He’d felt it once – grief, sadness, guilt. Quatre’s grief. At the circus during the war. Trowa was a stranger, without memory, as good as dead, and it hurt Quatre. He did not want to be responsible for that again. It was too heavy a burden. It wasn’t right.
Silence yielded to curious murmurs. He was supposed to speak. But he could only think, wide-eyed, of the pain. Of betrayal. Of loss. Of a cross around his neck piercing his heart. Of a sword’s point piercing his dear one’s flesh. Of blood and fear. Fear of loss, and of being alone again. Of leaving another alone and in pain. He had protected himself for so long against such ties. Ties that made him weak, that made him vulnerable. That made him feel. How had he let it get this far?
Clear blue eyes regarded him expectantly. A hint of fear corrupted them. Even now, by not speaking, he was hurting Quatre. And that in turn hurt him. It was a battle already lost. No amount of saying or unsaying would unwind the threads that wove their souls together. Though the thought of it ending made his chest ache, the course was already set and there was no altering it. Like being caught in the sun’s gravitational pull. It would hurt in the end but the beauty of the journey was worth it.
A whisper in his ear. Relena, specially licensed for the day to be their officiant. “Till death do us part,” she prompted. Trowa took a deep breath, swallowed tears that threatened to choke him. A rueful smile soothed the worry from his beloved’s brow.
“Till death to us part,” Trowa repeated. The relief of the spectators was palpable. Duo muttered something quietly in Quatre’s ear. But all Trowa noticed was the reassuring squeeze from the hand that held his. Quatre understood. He was scared too. They would do their best not to hurt each other and would not regret when it came to an end.
Sorry to post and run - Wednesday night's bar night here in the Armpit of the Universe. There's a Newcastle calling my name as we speak. Weeehaaaaaa!
Title: Interwoven
Author: Lukoni
Characters: Trowa/Quatre
Word Count: ca. 380
Summary: Trowa is at a loss for words at on an important occasion.
Rating: G
Warnings: Introspection. Ruminations on death.
Notes: Written for GW500 challenge #160: Prompt. Feedback/Criticism/Typo notifications welcome. Thanks for reading!
Interwoven
Silence resounded through the hall. Thoughts raced through Trowa’s mind as he neglected to speak. Thoughts of destruction. Of killing. Of how tenuous the thread of life is. How easy it is to snuff it out. And the grief it leaves behind. He’d felt it once – grief, sadness, guilt. Quatre’s grief. At the circus during the war. Trowa was a stranger, without memory, as good as dead, and it hurt Quatre. He did not want to be responsible for that again. It was too heavy a burden. It wasn’t right.
Silence yielded to curious murmurs. He was supposed to speak. But he could only think, wide-eyed, of the pain. Of betrayal. Of loss. Of a cross around his neck piercing his heart. Of a sword’s point piercing his dear one’s flesh. Of blood and fear. Fear of loss, and of being alone again. Of leaving another alone and in pain. He had protected himself for so long against such ties. Ties that made him weak, that made him vulnerable. That made him feel. How had he let it get this far?
Clear blue eyes regarded him expectantly. A hint of fear corrupted them. Even now, by not speaking, he was hurting Quatre. And that in turn hurt him. It was a battle already lost. No amount of saying or unsaying would unwind the threads that wove their souls together. Though the thought of it ending made his chest ache, the course was already set and there was no altering it. Like being caught in the sun’s gravitational pull. It would hurt in the end but the beauty of the journey was worth it.
A whisper in his ear. Relena, specially licensed for the day to be their officiant. “Till death do us part,” she prompted. Trowa took a deep breath, swallowed tears that threatened to choke him. A rueful smile soothed the worry from his beloved’s brow.
“Till death to us part,” Trowa repeated. The relief of the spectators was palpable. Duo muttered something quietly in Quatre’s ear. But all Trowa noticed was the reassuring squeeze from the hand that held his. Quatre understood. He was scared too. They would do their best not to hurt each other and would not regret when it came to an end.
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no subject
on 2007-02-22 05:06 am (UTC)no subject
on 2007-02-22 04:14 pm (UTC)