Prompt: Clear
Title: Clear
Series: Finding
Sub-Series: Firefly 100 series that follow Aftermath
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Post-BDM
Characters: Jayne/River
Disclaimer: Firefly owns me, I own words
Notes: As always
razycrandomgirl supports and nourishes the muse and
bookaddict43 nudges me to try harder. May their love and support be rewarded! The opening line must be credited to the writers of The Year of Living Dangerously as delivered by Linda Hunt as the inimitable Billy Kwan. I have adored that line since I first heard it.
Concrit is like air....amazing how you miss it when it is not there.
All Jayne/River stories are in the same storyline...
Previously: Firefly100 Org post
Clear
All is clouded by desire; as a fire by smoke. Voices filled her empty spaces, pressed in to fill every crevice.
Desperate, she pushed back, rebelled against the inrush of feelings and desires. Drew around her the cloak of dust, soot and smoke that was him. No softness soothed scarred nerves. Words exchanged hid their true meanings in disguised attacks.
She peered through hazy darkness, followed serpentine paths to find where he had gone. There was nothing. Grasping fog to decipher its content.
“Stop followin’ me around Crazy-Girl.”
“Not following… being led.”
“I ain’t leadin’ ya nowhere.”
“Cannot help it.”
~*~ ~*~
Focus, line held against vibrations of motion. Slow breaths conceal adrenaline coursing.
Time contracts, all vanishes except targets in the distance. Voices murmur nearby. He hears only tones, feels emotions. Shrill undertone of betrayal cascades over him.
He tightens his attention to weapon reflections. Catalogs dangers automatically. Clears the distractions from his thinking.
A hoarse laugh, slide of steel on leather betrays intent. He responds, gaze narrowed closely. Sharp bark of recoil, bellow of gunpowder sings in his ears. Thin lips purse as he concentrates on eliminating weapons ranged against them.
Acrid smoke clears, betrayers gone. He feels her cry.
~*~ ~*~
Cradled harshly to his chest, sun-scorched air drawn past parched lips. Blurring boundaries of man and beast. Scent of oil, smoke, bitter darkness; him.
He runs, limp girl held tightly, barely safe in his rigid grasp. Surge of death still filling his senses, barely reined in. Barely restrained from crushing the last of the flickering life.
She whimpers, jostled by painful hold, angry torrents flowing over her. Moment of clarity before unconsciousness. Desires what is hidden to the eye; him.
Growl of defiance, releasing her to cool touch of care. Retreats. Nurses own wounds. Painting black clear desire. For her.
Series: Finding
Sub-Series: Firefly 100 series that follow Aftermath
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Post-BDM
Characters: Jayne/River
Disclaimer: Firefly owns me, I own words
Notes: As always
razycrandomgirl supports and nourishes the muse and
bookaddict43 nudges me to try harder. May their love and support be rewarded! The opening line must be credited to the writers of The Year of Living Dangerously as delivered by Linda Hunt as the inimitable Billy Kwan. I have adored that line since I first heard it.
Concrit is like air....amazing how you miss it when it is not there.
All Jayne/River stories are in the same storyline...
Previously: Firefly100 Org post
Clear
All is clouded by desire; as a fire by smoke. Voices filled her empty spaces, pressed in to fill every crevice.
Desperate, she pushed back, rebelled against the inrush of feelings and desires. Drew around her the cloak of dust, soot and smoke that was him. No softness soothed scarred nerves. Words exchanged hid their true meanings in disguised attacks.
She peered through hazy darkness, followed serpentine paths to find where he had gone. There was nothing. Grasping fog to decipher its content.
“Stop followin’ me around Crazy-Girl.”
“Not following… being led.”
“I ain’t leadin’ ya nowhere.”
“Cannot help it.”
~*~ ~*~
Focus, line held against vibrations of motion. Slow breaths conceal adrenaline coursing.
Time contracts, all vanishes except targets in the distance. Voices murmur nearby. He hears only tones, feels emotions. Shrill undertone of betrayal cascades over him.
He tightens his attention to weapon reflections. Catalogs dangers automatically. Clears the distractions from his thinking.
A hoarse laugh, slide of steel on leather betrays intent. He responds, gaze narrowed closely. Sharp bark of recoil, bellow of gunpowder sings in his ears. Thin lips purse as he concentrates on eliminating weapons ranged against them.
Acrid smoke clears, betrayers gone. He feels her cry.
~*~ ~*~
Cradled harshly to his chest, sun-scorched air drawn past parched lips. Blurring boundaries of man and beast. Scent of oil, smoke, bitter darkness; him.
He runs, limp girl held tightly, barely safe in his rigid grasp. Surge of death still filling his senses, barely reined in. Barely restrained from crushing the last of the flickering life.
She whimpers, jostled by painful hold, angry torrents flowing over her. Moment of clarity before unconsciousness. Desires what is hidden to the eye; him.
Growl of defiance, releasing her to cool touch of care. Retreats. Nurses own wounds. Painting black clear desire. For her.