Fic: This Stronghold
Fandom: Firefly
Characters: River, Simon.
Continuity/Spoilers: Pre-movie, set during the series.
Author's notes: Written For jamjar, betad by petronelle and askmehow. Title from Mother Goose, here.
Summary: "It's a box," says Simon, in the way that means she's crazy.
"No, River--"
Simon thinks it's about conformity, uniformity, monoculture, rows of corn like soldiers. She can see his frustration and feels her own rise. "Feel it, Simon, like a grass!"
But Simon snatches it away from her. "River, you can't-- River, we just need some new clothes for you, a fur collar isn't--" He sighs, poor brother, like a lonely wind. "Yes, it's very soft."
This place is full of pasts, each thing with its own story, its own hopes. She wants to touch the shears that once denuded lambs, tell them that they'll be held again, put to the use they long for. She pets the wooden spoon, worn smooth by love, but Simon takes it away from her before she can lick it to see what tastes it remembers.
"River, that's not sanitary!" he squeaks, and she wonders what she can do to get him to make that noise again. "Just-- here. What do you think of this one?" Simon holds up a red dress.
Simon's very pretty. "It looks good on you," she tells him, and he sighs again.
Suddenly, River finds the egg that's been calling her name so softly since they came to the shop. "Look, Simon, an egg!"
"It's a box," says Simon, in the way that means she's crazy.
"It's not my brain," she assures him, "It's really a white house with the sun inside."
"If'n you actually make a purchase, I'll throw that one in complementary-like," says the shop keeper. His mind is like a hen: peck, peck, peck. "It's broke and don't open."
Simon softens before her smile. She's the sun, and he's good butter. Or maybe a milch cow, which she would lead to good pasture, and keep as a pet. "Please, Bessie?" River asks him.
"We'll be taking the shoes," says Simon, and the man stops pecking and gives them the shoes tied up with string.
They walk back to their sky-home. Simon says, "Well, at least we got you some shoes. And a puzzle-box that doesn't open."
River pets it just right, and it opens. "Look, Simon," she shows him, "gold!"
Simon stares. "My god... River, this is Yunwu! Real tea!" He carefully takes her egg from her, and smells its treasure. He smiles like a golden apple still on the tree. She used to be able to make his face do that whenever she wanted. It's harder now.
But sometimes, she still gets it right. Sorry, egg. We're going to drown your treasure.
Characters: River, Simon.
Continuity/Spoilers: Pre-movie, set during the series.
Author's notes: Written For jamjar, betad by petronelle and askmehow. Title from Mother Goose, here.
Summary: "It's a box," says Simon, in the way that means she's crazy.
"No, River--"
Simon thinks it's about conformity, uniformity, monoculture, rows of corn like soldiers. She can see his frustration and feels her own rise. "Feel it, Simon, like a grass!"
But Simon snatches it away from her. "River, you can't-- River, we just need some new clothes for you, a fur collar isn't--" He sighs, poor brother, like a lonely wind. "Yes, it's very soft."
This place is full of pasts, each thing with its own story, its own hopes. She wants to touch the shears that once denuded lambs, tell them that they'll be held again, put to the use they long for. She pets the wooden spoon, worn smooth by love, but Simon takes it away from her before she can lick it to see what tastes it remembers.
"River, that's not sanitary!" he squeaks, and she wonders what she can do to get him to make that noise again. "Just-- here. What do you think of this one?" Simon holds up a red dress.
Simon's very pretty. "It looks good on you," she tells him, and he sighs again.
Suddenly, River finds the egg that's been calling her name so softly since they came to the shop. "Look, Simon, an egg!"
"It's a box," says Simon, in the way that means she's crazy.
"It's not my brain," she assures him, "It's really a white house with the sun inside."
"If'n you actually make a purchase, I'll throw that one in complementary-like," says the shop keeper. His mind is like a hen: peck, peck, peck. "It's broke and don't open."
Simon softens before her smile. She's the sun, and he's good butter. Or maybe a milch cow, which she would lead to good pasture, and keep as a pet. "Please, Bessie?" River asks him.
"We'll be taking the shoes," says Simon, and the man stops pecking and gives them the shoes tied up with string.
They walk back to their sky-home. Simon says, "Well, at least we got you some shoes. And a puzzle-box that doesn't open."
River pets it just right, and it opens. "Look, Simon," she shows him, "gold!"
Simon stares. "My god... River, this is Yunwu! Real tea!" He carefully takes her egg from her, and smells its treasure. He smiles like a golden apple still on the tree. She used to be able to make his face do that whenever she wanted. It's harder now.
But sometimes, she still gets it right. Sorry, egg. We're going to drown your treasure.