Some drabbles
Jan. 9th, 2005 05:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maderrSome have seen these before - two were written for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
key_phrase_fics, and the other two were written for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mailechan. Was looking for them to finally save to my computer, and thought a few of you might be entertained. Back to writing I go (and I actually am writing. wonders never cease).
Tied
He was tied to this life no matter what he did. As hard as he tried to get out of it, he was hog-tied and bound.
Xavier sighed, blocking out the laughs and shouts and catcalls outside the window. For a brief moment he let the bitterness consume him, and wondered why why why he couldn't have fun like all the rest. Why couldn't he have friends? A lover?
And shit he'd better not go down that road tonight or he'd never get his homework done. His term paper was done by the end of next week, not to mention his final project for IB&M.
Which was why he definitely did not have time to go to the bars on Friday night. Or to the movies, or even to go hang out in the student recreational center and shoot some pool. He'd been asked, more than once.
But they were token requests at best. Or attempts to befriend Xavier Lord.
Never Ex though. No one wanted to know Ex.
Not that he was dumb enough to give them the chance. Forget it - he'd almost made that mistake more than once in high school.
But it would be nice to have someone to talk to.
He hunched his shoulders as more shouts and laughs came through his window with the cool spring breeze. Shoving back his dark brown hair, he sternly told himself to stop moping.
He was good at what he did, or would be doing. Everyone told him that. The secretaries at headquarters, the people on the island. Everyone. Even his father would occasionally grunt an acknowledgement of his abilities.
Of course it was promptly followed by ways in which he could do even better, but Ex had long ago stopped listening to his father more than was absolutely necessary.
So he was tied to this life. Of business, of suits and ties and plenty of enemies but few friends. And someday of a wife whom he tolerated and looked good with, but probably didn't love.
He wasn't going there, he just couldn't. It hurt too much, to think about what he wanted and would never, ever have.
Against his will, his head turned to stare at the photograph he treasured above and beyond all things. It was an image of him right before starting his freshmen year of high school. He stood with the only person he had ever considered a friend. Who had vanished the very year the picture was taken.
No letter, no email, no phone call. Nothing.
It stung. A lot. Ex missed him constantly, though he thought perhaps that he should have gotten over it a long time ago. People moved all the time. It was the way things were. And as a Lord, the best relationships were the transient ones.
How many times had his father beaten him over the head with it - that the moment you let someone not only get close but stay close, that's when they let you down.
His dad was an asshole. But he was also smart, and assertive, and competent. It was hard - impossible - to live up to that image.
Especially since he didn't want to live up to the damn thing.
Xavier gave up on his homework, knowing that now that he was in full Mope, there would be no getting it done.
He was twenty, currently at college where they said you spent the best years of your life.
Except it wasn't the school he wanted. He wasn't studying what he wanted. It wasn't going to lead to the life he wanted.
But there wasn't an alternative. He was the only one fit to live it, the only one molded and shaped for it. Law and Charlotte couldn't do it...and Sebastion? Ex would never ask that of his youngest brother.
He hoped, listening to his mother's stories and reading the letters his father sent, that Sebastion would be what Xavier never managed to be.
Brave enough, strong enough, to tell their father no and make his own way. Ex saw a lot of himself in Sebastion - and all the fire he himself was missing.
Picturing Sebastion, and gazing once more at the old photograph of two friends beaming at a camera that little brother had held, dragged away from a movie to take it at Ex's orders, Xavier picked up his pen and forced himself to get back to work.
He was tied to this life, there was no escaping that. But maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to retie those knots to his liking. It was doubtful, but it was better than wishing for things he would never have.
The Azura
Find your center, that's what they tell you to do in all that meditative crap they're always yammering about. Breathe in, breathe out, relax, find your center.
Whatever.
Most days, there was too much noise, too much on the schedule, too many people demanding your attention. No way to find anything in the chaos, let alone some damn "center"
All you really needed to find it was to have someone piss you off beyond all reason.
Patrick stared down the gun in his hand at the man on the unpleasant end of it.
His father's former secretary. Former both because his father was dead now and because he'd just told everyone assembled in the room that a youngster like Patrick wasn't fit to lead.
Fuck that.
So maybe he was skinny and pale and not so good - yet - at speaking. But he had the blue eyes, which Crowler didn't. And he had his name is his father's will, and on all relevant business documents, which Crowler didn't.
And he had the gun. Crowler didn't.
He didn't want to be here. He wanted to be back on the roof of the Academy, smiling and joking with Ex. He wanted to be a goddamned kid, and do stupid shit and get bitched out by his father.
But his father was dead, and that made Patrick the Azura. Which meant that there were people counting on him, and people itching to kill him, replace him, take the Corporation from him.
No fucking way. They'd killed his father, and ruined more lives than just Patrick's. His father had trusted Crowler, and now Patrick didn't know who he could trust, and wasn't that a fine way to begin his life as the Azura?
It made him so. Damn. Mad.
But calm at the same time, like everything was slowed down and made brighter just for him, so he could figure everything out. Rage was useful - how many times had his dad said that? Seemed the old man had known what he was talking about. But Patrick had always known that.
Trick tightened his grip on the gun, one he hadn't held since he'd been sent away for schooling, and spoke in a voice that - unbeknownst to him - sounded just like his father's had when the late Azura was pissed. "So Crowler, do you want to live or die?"
"I'd prefer to live," Crowler replied flippantly.
He always thought he'd be too terrified to do this, to live his father's life. But the rage and the calm drove it all away somehow. Patrick clung to it desperately, knowing that if he showed any weakness, he would lose his place as the Azura. "Then I suggest you sound a little more polite when you start begging for it, because convincing me of your worth is the only way you'll live and so far I'm convinced of nothing except that you're a traitorous murderer."
Crowler scoffed, "That might mean something from your father, but from you the words are laughable."
Rage. Calm. Trick's finger tightened on the trigger.
Drinking
"I'm not certain there should be that many empty bottles in front of him."
Einn frowned at Lark, "What's the problem? They're empty aren't they?"
"He's the reason they're empty! Unless your Rehab is a better drinker than he appears."
"No. I'm pretty done," Cyan managed, speaking slowly, as if he had trouble figuring out what words to use. "Sean's always telling me I should give up drinking."
"Ridiculous," Einn grinned at his drunk lover. "It's the Eve of a new Term. Everyone gets completely drunk on the Eve."
Lark lazily poured and then downed a shot of some dark red liquor, popular on Zero and one of his favorites. He looked at Einn across the table they'd set up on the bridge of the Brilliant, strewn with bottles of every shape, size and color and a dozen or so shot and drinking glasses. "You're not drunk."
"Neither are you," the two old friends shared a smirk, and clinked their just-refilled shot glasses, this time with a thick, amber liquid.
Karmikel looked at them both in disgust. "You're both more drunk than you realize. You're all idiots."
"You should get drunk," Einn said pleasantly. "It would probably sweeten your demeanor. If that's possible."
"Shut up and have more to drink," Karmikel said irritably, his own glass filled with harmless water. "Maybe it will shut you up."
"I doubt it," Lark replied, pouring an almost black liquor into a drinking glass. "Sleep and kissing Cyan are about the only things that shut Einn up."
"Do I need to shut him up?" Cyan asked, looking up from his shot glass, half-filled with something bright blue.
"Shut them both up," Karmikel replied.
"M'kay," Cyan leaned forward and to the left, where Lark sat, latching onto his shoulder for balance as he reached up to kiss him soundly. Lark let out a muffled curse, eyes wide with shock and panic, but as he tried to pull away he upset Cyan's precarious balance and instinctively moved to catch him - which resulted in Cyan all but in his lap, and still kissing him quite happily.
Lark gave up, knowing full well he was going to die in a few more seconds anyway, and returned Cyan's kiss, searching deep and tasting all the different flavors of alcohol the former Guard had been sampling all night.
He broke away, with slight reluctance, when the curses and threats from the opposite side of the table finally penetrated. He looked hazily at the balefully glaring Einn. "Wow, no wonder you keep him around."
"The minute I'm sober, I'm killing both of you."
Cyan was slowly figuring out what it was he'd done. "Sorry," he sat back down heavily in his own seat - but was immediately hauled out of it by Einn. "S'why Sean says I shouldn't drink. He says I turn." he frowned in thought. "Generous with my kisses."
"That's it," Einn declared. "No more alcohol for you. Ever."
"Agreed," Faller and Karmikel muttered together.
Taunting Karmikel
"What is that?" Karmikel stared suspiciously at the dark red flower in Lark's hands.
"What's what?" Lark asked, sparing the Draconis a glance before returning to whatever was flicking through his In-lens.
Karmikel motioned impatiently at the flower, "The plant life."
"This?" Lark finished reading the data on In-lens and made his way toward the wide window that spanned the majority of the bridge. "It's a rose. Haven't you seen one before?"
"I have better things to do than study obscure plant life."
Lark shook his head, "Roses are hardly obscure. It's how several of the colonies on Mars make money. Especially during Lover's Week."
"Lover's week?" Karmikel frowned.
"Yeah," Lark smirked. "Lover's week. It's an old tradition to give red roses to either your lover or someone you wish was your lover."
Karmikel narrowed his eyes and stood, work forgotten. "Who gave you a rose?"
"Jealous?" An amused chuckle.
"Annoyed," Karmikel snapped, standing in front of Lark, violence in his eyes.
Lark snickered, "Jealous."
"Who gave you the rose?"
"What are you going to do?"
"Give it back," Karmikel said darkly.
Lark laughed again, "Why don't you just kiss me instead, since it was a free hand out at one of the shops, and Lover's Week isn't until next month?"
"I hate you." Karmikel spun away, muttering curses, but didn't resist when Lark dragged him back for a kiss.
key_phrase_fics, and the other two were written for mailechan. Was looking for them to finally save to my computer, and thought a few of you might be entertained. Back to writing I go (and I actually am writing. wonders never cease).Tied
He was tied to this life no matter what he did. As hard as he tried to get out of it, he was hog-tied and bound.
Xavier sighed, blocking out the laughs and shouts and catcalls outside the window. For a brief moment he let the bitterness consume him, and wondered why why why he couldn't have fun like all the rest. Why couldn't he have friends? A lover?
And shit he'd better not go down that road tonight or he'd never get his homework done. His term paper was done by the end of next week, not to mention his final project for IB&M.
Which was why he definitely did not have time to go to the bars on Friday night. Or to the movies, or even to go hang out in the student recreational center and shoot some pool. He'd been asked, more than once.
But they were token requests at best. Or attempts to befriend Xavier Lord.
Never Ex though. No one wanted to know Ex.
Not that he was dumb enough to give them the chance. Forget it - he'd almost made that mistake more than once in high school.
But it would be nice to have someone to talk to.
He hunched his shoulders as more shouts and laughs came through his window with the cool spring breeze. Shoving back his dark brown hair, he sternly told himself to stop moping.
He was good at what he did, or would be doing. Everyone told him that. The secretaries at headquarters, the people on the island. Everyone. Even his father would occasionally grunt an acknowledgement of his abilities.
Of course it was promptly followed by ways in which he could do even better, but Ex had long ago stopped listening to his father more than was absolutely necessary.
So he was tied to this life. Of business, of suits and ties and plenty of enemies but few friends. And someday of a wife whom he tolerated and looked good with, but probably didn't love.
He wasn't going there, he just couldn't. It hurt too much, to think about what he wanted and would never, ever have.
Against his will, his head turned to stare at the photograph he treasured above and beyond all things. It was an image of him right before starting his freshmen year of high school. He stood with the only person he had ever considered a friend. Who had vanished the very year the picture was taken.
No letter, no email, no phone call. Nothing.
It stung. A lot. Ex missed him constantly, though he thought perhaps that he should have gotten over it a long time ago. People moved all the time. It was the way things were. And as a Lord, the best relationships were the transient ones.
How many times had his father beaten him over the head with it - that the moment you let someone not only get close but stay close, that's when they let you down.
His dad was an asshole. But he was also smart, and assertive, and competent. It was hard - impossible - to live up to that image.
Especially since he didn't want to live up to the damn thing.
Xavier gave up on his homework, knowing that now that he was in full Mope, there would be no getting it done.
He was twenty, currently at college where they said you spent the best years of your life.
Except it wasn't the school he wanted. He wasn't studying what he wanted. It wasn't going to lead to the life he wanted.
But there wasn't an alternative. He was the only one fit to live it, the only one molded and shaped for it. Law and Charlotte couldn't do it...and Sebastion? Ex would never ask that of his youngest brother.
He hoped, listening to his mother's stories and reading the letters his father sent, that Sebastion would be what Xavier never managed to be.
Brave enough, strong enough, to tell their father no and make his own way. Ex saw a lot of himself in Sebastion - and all the fire he himself was missing.
Picturing Sebastion, and gazing once more at the old photograph of two friends beaming at a camera that little brother had held, dragged away from a movie to take it at Ex's orders, Xavier picked up his pen and forced himself to get back to work.
He was tied to this life, there was no escaping that. But maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to retie those knots to his liking. It was doubtful, but it was better than wishing for things he would never have.
The Azura
Find your center, that's what they tell you to do in all that meditative crap they're always yammering about. Breathe in, breathe out, relax, find your center.
Whatever.
Most days, there was too much noise, too much on the schedule, too many people demanding your attention. No way to find anything in the chaos, let alone some damn "center"
All you really needed to find it was to have someone piss you off beyond all reason.
Patrick stared down the gun in his hand at the man on the unpleasant end of it.
His father's former secretary. Former both because his father was dead now and because he'd just told everyone assembled in the room that a youngster like Patrick wasn't fit to lead.
Fuck that.
So maybe he was skinny and pale and not so good - yet - at speaking. But he had the blue eyes, which Crowler didn't. And he had his name is his father's will, and on all relevant business documents, which Crowler didn't.
And he had the gun. Crowler didn't.
He didn't want to be here. He wanted to be back on the roof of the Academy, smiling and joking with Ex. He wanted to be a goddamned kid, and do stupid shit and get bitched out by his father.
But his father was dead, and that made Patrick the Azura. Which meant that there were people counting on him, and people itching to kill him, replace him, take the Corporation from him.
No fucking way. They'd killed his father, and ruined more lives than just Patrick's. His father had trusted Crowler, and now Patrick didn't know who he could trust, and wasn't that a fine way to begin his life as the Azura?
It made him so. Damn. Mad.
But calm at the same time, like everything was slowed down and made brighter just for him, so he could figure everything out. Rage was useful - how many times had his dad said that? Seemed the old man had known what he was talking about. But Patrick had always known that.
Trick tightened his grip on the gun, one he hadn't held since he'd been sent away for schooling, and spoke in a voice that - unbeknownst to him - sounded just like his father's had when the late Azura was pissed. "So Crowler, do you want to live or die?"
"I'd prefer to live," Crowler replied flippantly.
He always thought he'd be too terrified to do this, to live his father's life. But the rage and the calm drove it all away somehow. Patrick clung to it desperately, knowing that if he showed any weakness, he would lose his place as the Azura. "Then I suggest you sound a little more polite when you start begging for it, because convincing me of your worth is the only way you'll live and so far I'm convinced of nothing except that you're a traitorous murderer."
Crowler scoffed, "That might mean something from your father, but from you the words are laughable."
Rage. Calm. Trick's finger tightened on the trigger.
Drinking
"I'm not certain there should be that many empty bottles in front of him."
Einn frowned at Lark, "What's the problem? They're empty aren't they?"
"He's the reason they're empty! Unless your Rehab is a better drinker than he appears."
"No. I'm pretty done," Cyan managed, speaking slowly, as if he had trouble figuring out what words to use. "Sean's always telling me I should give up drinking."
"Ridiculous," Einn grinned at his drunk lover. "It's the Eve of a new Term. Everyone gets completely drunk on the Eve."
Lark lazily poured and then downed a shot of some dark red liquor, popular on Zero and one of his favorites. He looked at Einn across the table they'd set up on the bridge of the Brilliant, strewn with bottles of every shape, size and color and a dozen or so shot and drinking glasses. "You're not drunk."
"Neither are you," the two old friends shared a smirk, and clinked their just-refilled shot glasses, this time with a thick, amber liquid.
Karmikel looked at them both in disgust. "You're both more drunk than you realize. You're all idiots."
"You should get drunk," Einn said pleasantly. "It would probably sweeten your demeanor. If that's possible."
"Shut up and have more to drink," Karmikel said irritably, his own glass filled with harmless water. "Maybe it will shut you up."
"I doubt it," Lark replied, pouring an almost black liquor into a drinking glass. "Sleep and kissing Cyan are about the only things that shut Einn up."
"Do I need to shut him up?" Cyan asked, looking up from his shot glass, half-filled with something bright blue.
"Shut them both up," Karmikel replied.
"M'kay," Cyan leaned forward and to the left, where Lark sat, latching onto his shoulder for balance as he reached up to kiss him soundly. Lark let out a muffled curse, eyes wide with shock and panic, but as he tried to pull away he upset Cyan's precarious balance and instinctively moved to catch him - which resulted in Cyan all but in his lap, and still kissing him quite happily.
Lark gave up, knowing full well he was going to die in a few more seconds anyway, and returned Cyan's kiss, searching deep and tasting all the different flavors of alcohol the former Guard had been sampling all night.
He broke away, with slight reluctance, when the curses and threats from the opposite side of the table finally penetrated. He looked hazily at the balefully glaring Einn. "Wow, no wonder you keep him around."
"The minute I'm sober, I'm killing both of you."
Cyan was slowly figuring out what it was he'd done. "Sorry," he sat back down heavily in his own seat - but was immediately hauled out of it by Einn. "S'why Sean says I shouldn't drink. He says I turn." he frowned in thought. "Generous with my kisses."
"That's it," Einn declared. "No more alcohol for you. Ever."
"Agreed," Faller and Karmikel muttered together.
Taunting Karmikel
"What is that?" Karmikel stared suspiciously at the dark red flower in Lark's hands.
"What's what?" Lark asked, sparing the Draconis a glance before returning to whatever was flicking through his In-lens.
Karmikel motioned impatiently at the flower, "The plant life."
"This?" Lark finished reading the data on In-lens and made his way toward the wide window that spanned the majority of the bridge. "It's a rose. Haven't you seen one before?"
"I have better things to do than study obscure plant life."
Lark shook his head, "Roses are hardly obscure. It's how several of the colonies on Mars make money. Especially during Lover's Week."
"Lover's week?" Karmikel frowned.
"Yeah," Lark smirked. "Lover's week. It's an old tradition to give red roses to either your lover or someone you wish was your lover."
Karmikel narrowed his eyes and stood, work forgotten. "Who gave you a rose?"
"Jealous?" An amused chuckle.
"Annoyed," Karmikel snapped, standing in front of Lark, violence in his eyes.
Lark snickered, "Jealous."
"Who gave you the rose?"
"What are you going to do?"
"Give it back," Karmikel said darkly.
Lark laughed again, "Why don't you just kiss me instead, since it was a free hand out at one of the shops, and Lover's Week isn't until next month?"
"I hate you." Karmikel spun away, muttering curses, but didn't resist when Lark dragged him back for a kiss.
no subject
Date: 2005-01-09 11:04 pm (UTC)Anyway, very nice!
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Date: 2005-01-10 03:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-10 03:39 am (UTC)btw, just checking, lark and fallar are the same right? ^^ got a little thrown off by the narrative using both names.... sheepish
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Date: 2005-01-10 03:53 am (UTC)btw, just checking, lark and fallar are the same right? ^^ got a little thrown off by the narrative using both names.... sheepish
Heh, my fault entirely. Yes, they're the same - Lark Faller. I figured in this setting his first name would be more fitting ^^;
no subject
Date: 2005-01-10 03:55 am (UTC)^_^ *loves the ki-chan*
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Date: 2005-01-10 04:10 am (UTC)*grin* Funny you should ask, I'm four pages into chapter three.
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Date: 2005-01-10 04:40 am (UTC)Ex just makes me want to HUG him and feed him cookies!
Momiji: Me! Me! I volunteer to feed him cookies!
No, Momiji. You have enough followers.
And as to the Kidnapped crew? I love these fics more every time I read them! *more love, love, love*
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Date: 2005-01-10 04:44 am (UTC)*snuggles momiji* You can feed him a cookie ^_^
Heh, the Kidnapped crew is always amusing.
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Date: 2005-01-10 04:45 am (UTC)And the hints at Karmikel/Faller? <<<3333!!! I love it. I love it so much. :3 That last one was wonderful wonderful!! *tackle glomps* I love your writing. So, so much.
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Date: 2005-01-10 06:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-10 12:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-10 08:03 pm (UTC)Heh. Karmikel and Faller are always good for a laugh.
I'm only as good as the readers who keep me going. Thanks, Sky ^_^
no subject
Date: 2005-01-10 08:04 pm (UTC)I aim to please. Glad you liked them ^_^
no subject
Date: 2005-01-11 03:42 am (UTC)