nikery's story - snippet, very rough
Apr. 3rd, 2008 10:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maderrNot sure how settled this is, I was writing more on the fly than is usual even for me. I fear it's too close in nature to Charlie's story, but we'll see. DwtD dragon verse.
Safe From All Harm
Edison let out a startled cry as he was jarred roughly from behind, which caused him to hit the curb rather than step up over it, which sent him tumbling hard to the pavement. His glasses went flying, and even as he struggled to stand up in the midst of the crowded sidewalk, he heard the ominous crunch of someone stepping on them.
Damn it.
What was he going to do now? He couldn't see, not really, everything was a horrible blur and soon he'd get a headache and he was already tired and hungry—
He let out another cry as someone knocked him over, cringing against the curses hurled at him, the demands to know if he was stupid or what.
Fighting back tears, Edison struggled to stand again, this time managing to stumble his way through the crush of people to what he thought – hoped – was a wall of some sort.
In a long list of bad days, this one had not taken long to move straight to the top. The only thing keeping him from losing his mind completely was that he was almost there, almost done. Just a little longer and he would no longer have to do this alone.
He hoped. But reminding himself for the millionth time that it was stupid to pin his hopes on a debt that was not actually his to call in was pointless. He had no other options. It was this or let them kill him – which reminded him, as if he could forget, that he had an hour left until his protective charm wore off and the bastards managed to find him.
Christ, he needed his glasses. Turning to face the fall, trembling with fear and exhaustion, he pulled out a piece of chalk and quickly drew the required circle and marks, fervently hoping he got them correct. Muttering the necessary words, he splayed his hand flat against the chalk mark – and felt his glasses.
He didn't dare cast a spell to repair them, not as tired as he was, but just having them was hopefully enough. Slipping them on, he realized it was barely enough to have them. One lens was gone completely, the other badly cracked.
Still, he could sort of see, and that was better than being blind.
Pushing away from the wall, he headed towards the twenty story apartment building that was his destination. As he reached it, he fumbled for the scrap of paper in his pocket that told him the floor and room number.
The last of his expendable energy went toward a spell that would persuade people to ignore him for a full minute, which was all he needed to get into the elevator – which, thankfully, did not require a key to activate. He'd been trusting to fickle luck on that one.
When he reached the seventeenth floor, it took him a good ten minutes to figure out the hallways and which direction he needed.
At last, at last, he stopped in front of apartment L24.
He looked a wreck, which wouldn’t help him plead his case, but he didn't have the time or the energy to clean himself up. It was a damned miracle he'd made it this far. Taking a deep breath, coming a hand through his hair in a futile effort to neaten it, he knocked on the door.
"What in the hell are you doing here?" The words were snarled as the door was yanked open by a man Edison had seen before in an old picture. It hardly did him justice. He had the look of an athlete – short, short hair, muscles that nicely filled the plain white t-shirt and faded jeans, broad shoulders and chest. Classic blonde and blue jock, except there was nothing about him that fit the thick and stupid stereotype that went with it.
"I'm not Thomas," he said quickly, anxiously, almost begging the man not to slam the door in his face.
"Try another," the man snapped.
Alex, Edison though his name was, but he wasn't sure. Thomas had only mentioned it once, and too quickly for Edison to really catch it.
"I'm not," Edison said desperately. "Thomas was my twin." He laughed, knowing he sounded more than a little hysterical. "Good twin, bad twin. He was the bad twin. Please, I swear it."
"Not sneaky," said a new voice, deep and almost…growly. A man appeared behind Alex, resting his chin on Alec's shoulder. His hair was dark brown, freckles smattered across his nose and cheeks. "Not sneaky," the stranger repeated. "Close, but not the same."
"What the fuck—"
"Please," Edison said, not caring how pathetic or desperate or needy he sounded. "I need your help, you're the only one. You are Alex, right?"
"Alec," the man corrected curtly. "Why in the fuck would I want to help anyone related to that mother fucker?"
Edison flinched. "Like or hate, you owed my brother a debt. He's dead – I'm calling it in."
Alec swore loudly, then reached out and yanked Edison inside, slamming the door shut behind him.
"Magic," said the strange man with the freckles, his nose wrinkling, and it was only now that Edison realized he must have been standing on his toes or maybe just clinging to Alec, because he was a good two inches shorter than Alec. "Magic, blood, death. Very smelly."
"Yeah," Edison agreed weakly, not able to muster the energy to be amused. "In about thirty minutes my charm of protection is going to die, and at that point some very angry, very violent men are going to come after me." He looked at Alec, wishing he could see better, that he didn't look so stupid and pathetic. "I want you to protect me."
"Go to hell," Alec snarled. "If he's dead, good-fucking riddance. I don't owe that bastard a goddamn thing. Even if I did, I don't recall saying that debt was transferable, so I don't owe you shit."
The freckled man growled – positively growled – and moved to pet and touch and nuzzle Alec, calming him down.
Edison fought tears, feeling about a hundred different kinds of stupid.
Safe From All Harm
Edison let out a startled cry as he was jarred roughly from behind, which caused him to hit the curb rather than step up over it, which sent him tumbling hard to the pavement. His glasses went flying, and even as he struggled to stand up in the midst of the crowded sidewalk, he heard the ominous crunch of someone stepping on them.
Damn it.
What was he going to do now? He couldn't see, not really, everything was a horrible blur and soon he'd get a headache and he was already tired and hungry—
He let out another cry as someone knocked him over, cringing against the curses hurled at him, the demands to know if he was stupid or what.
Fighting back tears, Edison struggled to stand again, this time managing to stumble his way through the crush of people to what he thought – hoped – was a wall of some sort.
In a long list of bad days, this one had not taken long to move straight to the top. The only thing keeping him from losing his mind completely was that he was almost there, almost done. Just a little longer and he would no longer have to do this alone.
He hoped. But reminding himself for the millionth time that it was stupid to pin his hopes on a debt that was not actually his to call in was pointless. He had no other options. It was this or let them kill him – which reminded him, as if he could forget, that he had an hour left until his protective charm wore off and the bastards managed to find him.
Christ, he needed his glasses. Turning to face the fall, trembling with fear and exhaustion, he pulled out a piece of chalk and quickly drew the required circle and marks, fervently hoping he got them correct. Muttering the necessary words, he splayed his hand flat against the chalk mark – and felt his glasses.
He didn't dare cast a spell to repair them, not as tired as he was, but just having them was hopefully enough. Slipping them on, he realized it was barely enough to have them. One lens was gone completely, the other badly cracked.
Still, he could sort of see, and that was better than being blind.
Pushing away from the wall, he headed towards the twenty story apartment building that was his destination. As he reached it, he fumbled for the scrap of paper in his pocket that told him the floor and room number.
The last of his expendable energy went toward a spell that would persuade people to ignore him for a full minute, which was all he needed to get into the elevator – which, thankfully, did not require a key to activate. He'd been trusting to fickle luck on that one.
When he reached the seventeenth floor, it took him a good ten minutes to figure out the hallways and which direction he needed.
At last, at last, he stopped in front of apartment L24.
He looked a wreck, which wouldn’t help him plead his case, but he didn't have the time or the energy to clean himself up. It was a damned miracle he'd made it this far. Taking a deep breath, coming a hand through his hair in a futile effort to neaten it, he knocked on the door.
"What in the hell are you doing here?" The words were snarled as the door was yanked open by a man Edison had seen before in an old picture. It hardly did him justice. He had the look of an athlete – short, short hair, muscles that nicely filled the plain white t-shirt and faded jeans, broad shoulders and chest. Classic blonde and blue jock, except there was nothing about him that fit the thick and stupid stereotype that went with it.
"I'm not Thomas," he said quickly, anxiously, almost begging the man not to slam the door in his face.
"Try another," the man snapped.
Alex, Edison though his name was, but he wasn't sure. Thomas had only mentioned it once, and too quickly for Edison to really catch it.
"I'm not," Edison said desperately. "Thomas was my twin." He laughed, knowing he sounded more than a little hysterical. "Good twin, bad twin. He was the bad twin. Please, I swear it."
"Not sneaky," said a new voice, deep and almost…growly. A man appeared behind Alex, resting his chin on Alec's shoulder. His hair was dark brown, freckles smattered across his nose and cheeks. "Not sneaky," the stranger repeated. "Close, but not the same."
"What the fuck—"
"Please," Edison said, not caring how pathetic or desperate or needy he sounded. "I need your help, you're the only one. You are Alex, right?"
"Alec," the man corrected curtly. "Why in the fuck would I want to help anyone related to that mother fucker?"
Edison flinched. "Like or hate, you owed my brother a debt. He's dead – I'm calling it in."
Alec swore loudly, then reached out and yanked Edison inside, slamming the door shut behind him.
"Magic," said the strange man with the freckles, his nose wrinkling, and it was only now that Edison realized he must have been standing on his toes or maybe just clinging to Alec, because he was a good two inches shorter than Alec. "Magic, blood, death. Very smelly."
"Yeah," Edison agreed weakly, not able to muster the energy to be amused. "In about thirty minutes my charm of protection is going to die, and at that point some very angry, very violent men are going to come after me." He looked at Alec, wishing he could see better, that he didn't look so stupid and pathetic. "I want you to protect me."
"Go to hell," Alec snarled. "If he's dead, good-fucking riddance. I don't owe that bastard a goddamn thing. Even if I did, I don't recall saying that debt was transferable, so I don't owe you shit."
The freckled man growled – positively growled – and moved to pet and touch and nuzzle Alec, calming him down.
Edison fought tears, feeling about a hundred different kinds of stupid.
no subject
Date: 2008-04-04 02:47 am (UTC)So can we hope for a threesome? 'Cause Edison would deserve the lovin :(