Three by Three (#119/#120/#121)
Oct. 7th, 2011 03:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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fiction_drabblesCOMMON TAGS
Original Fiction or Fanfiction: Original
Characters/Pairings: N/A
Rating: PG-13 / K+
Warnings: Language, Violence
Disclaimer: Original work, my own stuffs, etc.
General notes: Sometimes, slow afternoons at work are wonderful things.
~
Title: "Feeding Time"
Challenge/Prompt: #118 / Stress
Summary: "They should not take our dead too."
Notes: -
~
The labyrinth keeps stealing our dead.
The monsters in the maze we keep sated on the flesh of greedy kings. They should not take our dead too.
But we let them.
The monsters are our children, after all. Blessed twins after so many barren years. The labyrinth is their den-mother. It shelters them from harm, trains them to hunt. Another boon from fickle gods. Like beautiful, wise children who become ivory-tongued, steel-winged horrors by moonlight.
We honour the truth in flesh. The labyrinth, den-mother, sees only meat.
I fear for our twins, divine and tainted.
If only they were neither.
~~~
Title: "Not Quite The Good Guys "
Challenge/Prompt: #119 / Comfort
Summary: "Gratitude doesn't buy me bullets."
Notes: A maybe-what-if continuation of #115 / Bullet Therapy, looks like.
~
Lazy afternoon, after sniper fire and an unclean getaway.
"I had the shot," she scowls, cradling a dirty shotglass. Vodka spills past her fingers. "You cost me a contract, you unbelievable dick."
I say nothing.
"We're not heroes, okay?" she snaps. "Saving civilians, foiling conspiracies...that's not...we're not..."
"I know," I say. "I know and I'm sorry and I'm grateful."
"Gratitude doesn't buy me bullets. Or a clean ride out of this mess."
"It buys you a 'thank you' hug."
"Un-fucking-believable." She drowns the shot and pretends not to smile. "What are you, five?"
"Well..."
"Shut up, don't answer."
~~~
Title: "Prey"
Challenge/Prompt: #120 / Reach
Summary: "When the feather is ashes, an angel dies."
Notes: -
~
You light a black feather at the crown of an ivory minaret.
When the feather burns in your hands, your eyes bleed black. Your teeth loosen and fall to marble underfoot, click click and click clack.
But the reward: the rush, the exhilarating taste of murder on your tongue, the scent of lungs learning too late how to draw breath as wings crash down past the firmament...
When the feather is ashes, an angel dies.
The divine cast your wings aside once, punishment for a black heart. Reaching for their skies, you return the favour. One angel at a time.
~~~
Original Fiction or Fanfiction: Original
Characters/Pairings: N/A
Rating: PG-13 / K+
Warnings: Language, Violence
Disclaimer: Original work, my own stuffs, etc.
General notes: Sometimes, slow afternoons at work are wonderful things.
~
Title: "Feeding Time"
Challenge/Prompt: #118 / Stress
Summary: "They should not take our dead too."
Notes: -
~
The labyrinth keeps stealing our dead.
The monsters in the maze we keep sated on the flesh of greedy kings. They should not take our dead too.
But we let them.
The monsters are our children, after all. Blessed twins after so many barren years. The labyrinth is their den-mother. It shelters them from harm, trains them to hunt. Another boon from fickle gods. Like beautiful, wise children who become ivory-tongued, steel-winged horrors by moonlight.
We honour the truth in flesh. The labyrinth, den-mother, sees only meat.
I fear for our twins, divine and tainted.
If only they were neither.
~~~
Title: "Not Quite The Good Guys "
Challenge/Prompt: #119 / Comfort
Summary: "Gratitude doesn't buy me bullets."
Notes: A maybe-what-if continuation of #115 / Bullet Therapy, looks like.
~
Lazy afternoon, after sniper fire and an unclean getaway.
"I had the shot," she scowls, cradling a dirty shotglass. Vodka spills past her fingers. "You cost me a contract, you unbelievable dick."
I say nothing.
"We're not heroes, okay?" she snaps. "Saving civilians, foiling conspiracies...that's not...we're not..."
"I know," I say. "I know and I'm sorry and I'm grateful."
"Gratitude doesn't buy me bullets. Or a clean ride out of this mess."
"It buys you a 'thank you' hug."
"Un-fucking-believable." She drowns the shot and pretends not to smile. "What are you, five?"
"Well..."
"Shut up, don't answer."
~~~
Title: "Prey"
Challenge/Prompt: #120 / Reach
Summary: "When the feather is ashes, an angel dies."
Notes: -
~
You light a black feather at the crown of an ivory minaret.
When the feather burns in your hands, your eyes bleed black. Your teeth loosen and fall to marble underfoot, click click and click clack.
But the reward: the rush, the exhilarating taste of murder on your tongue, the scent of lungs learning too late how to draw breath as wings crash down past the firmament...
When the feather is ashes, an angel dies.
The divine cast your wings aside once, punishment for a black heart. Reaching for their skies, you return the favour. One angel at a time.
~~~
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-08 04:04 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-08 07:55 pm (UTC)Re: teeth, yeah, poor Wikus. :( Falling teeth and loose teeth are recurring night terrors of mine. Maybe this counts towards therapy? -_-
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-09 02:04 am (UTC)