april showers: prompt 1 - after the rains
Title: After the Rains
Author: eclecticmum
Prompt: Prompt #1
April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
(T.S. Eliot, "The Waste Land")
Fandom: Horatio Hornblower
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Archie Kennedy, Horatio Hornblower
Genre: Historical, Angst
Rating & Warnings: Teen, brief non-graphic reference to torture
Word Count: 330 words
Summary: Takes place during “The Duchess and the Devil”, Archie contemplates that most dangerous of emotions, hope.
The dappled sunshine woke him, light brightening then fading as the clouds contended with the sun. He had fallen asleep facing the barred window of the dull cell. His red rimmed eyes squinted as a flash of light broke through the racing billows and streamed into room. Flinching away, his muddled mind tried to remember why the sun should bother him now, after all this time. In all the months he had occupied this bare Spanish cell, the sun had never impinged on his fretful sleep. A light step at the door, and a familiar voice spoke.
“Good Morning Archie, it is good to see you awake.”
Then it came rushing back. Last night, instead of curling up against the wall, he had lain stretched out on his back, feigning sleep, and listened to Horatio’s mad plans for escape mixed with the pounding of the torrent. It was no use to tell Horatio that no one had ever successfully escaped from the Don’s prison, that those who were caught attempting it ended up in a little hole in the exercise yard with no room to either sit down or stand up until the Don was assured that their spirit was broken. Archie shuddered at the thought of that dank oubliette waiting just outside. Horatio leaned against the sill of the barred window, dark head turned toward a fresh burst of sunlight.
“The storm has ended.”
A ceramic clank came from the spindle legged table between the two bunks. Horatio had brought breakfast.
“Eat, you will need your strength.”
The look in his eyes reminded Archie of his first few days in the Don’s custody. Before he was taught his own folly. Before the fits began again. Before he broke. But Horatio, Horatio was different. Horatio had faced down Simpson and the fire ships. Pushing his lank blond hair away from his eyes, Archie thought that perhaps, just perhaps, it was time to face the sunlight that came after the rains.
Author: eclecticmum
Prompt: Prompt #1
April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
(T.S. Eliot, "The Waste Land")
Fandom: Horatio Hornblower
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Archie Kennedy, Horatio Hornblower
Genre: Historical, Angst
Rating & Warnings: Teen, brief non-graphic reference to torture
Word Count: 330 words
Summary: Takes place during “The Duchess and the Devil”, Archie contemplates that most dangerous of emotions, hope.
The dappled sunshine woke him, light brightening then fading as the clouds contended with the sun. He had fallen asleep facing the barred window of the dull cell. His red rimmed eyes squinted as a flash of light broke through the racing billows and streamed into room. Flinching away, his muddled mind tried to remember why the sun should bother him now, after all this time. In all the months he had occupied this bare Spanish cell, the sun had never impinged on his fretful sleep. A light step at the door, and a familiar voice spoke.
“Good Morning Archie, it is good to see you awake.”
Then it came rushing back. Last night, instead of curling up against the wall, he had lain stretched out on his back, feigning sleep, and listened to Horatio’s mad plans for escape mixed with the pounding of the torrent. It was no use to tell Horatio that no one had ever successfully escaped from the Don’s prison, that those who were caught attempting it ended up in a little hole in the exercise yard with no room to either sit down or stand up until the Don was assured that their spirit was broken. Archie shuddered at the thought of that dank oubliette waiting just outside. Horatio leaned against the sill of the barred window, dark head turned toward a fresh burst of sunlight.
“The storm has ended.”
A ceramic clank came from the spindle legged table between the two bunks. Horatio had brought breakfast.
“Eat, you will need your strength.”
The look in his eyes reminded Archie of his first few days in the Don’s custody. Before he was taught his own folly. Before the fits began again. Before he broke. But Horatio, Horatio was different. Horatio had faced down Simpson and the fire ships. Pushing his lank blond hair away from his eyes, Archie thought that perhaps, just perhaps, it was time to face the sunlight that came after the rains.