4/4 - Anders, Death, and how there's no Justice (it's just him)
anonymous
April 27 2011, 11:37:37 UTC
--- He's heard nothing else but the sound of his own breathing for however long it's been since that last disastrous attempt at speech that he half suspects he's going mad again when he realises that something else is moving out in the desert. Anders knows he's not so tired that he should stop just yet, so he slogs on.
Only to stop dead in his tracks when he hears something that's too familiar for his liking.
"You bastard," he says, "you wouldn't."
Breaking into a run, he heads for an outcrop of rubble that's a short distance away. There'd always been items inside such small piles, he'd cracked a joke once that whoever was who kept leaving valuable amulets and belts around in rocks ought to have their heads and wallets checked by him but this time he simply crouches down before even reaching them and digs about in a pouch he hadn't realised he was carrying until now and takes out what's inside.
"Come on, you," Anders calls, his voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. "Come on, I know you're there. This is your favourite, isn't it? And you must be hungry for a treat, you always were --"
There's a second meow, before Ser Pounce-a-lot comes out, gingerly accepts the offering of smoked fish from his fingers and then crawls into his lap.
The weight of the cat is a constant, heavy presence on his legs and Anders can't help but think about how real this all seems as he reaches out to stroke down its back. "You got bigger," he says. "You got bigger, but since I got older I think that's fair. Maker's breath..."
For all he's saying, though, Ser Pounce-a-lot seems as oblivious to his words as ever, turning to sniff at his hand and then at the pouch on his belt that Anders knows is filled with all sorts of treats that he won't be running out of any time soon. It's all going far too well, except --
"Kitty," he asks, "are you dead?"
If this is what a dead cat looks like, though, then he has to say he's impressed. Then again, he's a dead human with no sign of a knife in his back, his coat and boots still both in good condition. Given all the walking he's been doing, that's also fairly impressive.
It's also a shame that cats can't talk back, but from the way Ser Pounce-a-lot has sunk claws into his legs while trying to open the pouch with his teeth and how it hurts in a manner that's completely different from how tiredness hurts, or memories hurt, Anders figures out quickly enough that this question is fairly irrelevant. The cat may or may not be dead, but it is still a cat and it is also, apparently, hungry for snacks.
"I suppose it's enough that you're here," he says, smiling and scooping the cat into his arms before standing up. "You know, I can remember everything now, and I can certainly remember that you didn't use to be so heavy. You've been conning food out of the nice Warden Commander with that cute face of yours, haven't you? Sneaky fat thing."
The only reply to that is a meow, and this is also something he remembers, talking idiotically to the one pet that had meant so much to him. Only it's not a memory, any more, this is old and new again.
"Do you know, kitty," Anders starts, "I thought --"
I'd lost you, is what he wants to say, but obviously he was wrong, so it's something that doesn't need saying any more. Doing its part to contribute to the conversation, though, Ser Pounce-a-lot clambers onto his shoulder and while Anders can't quite catch the expression on his face, he's willing to bet that it radiates smugness.
This would not, in itself, be an unreasonable bet, given the tendency of cats to radiate only a number of different emotions, of which smugness is an unbearably common one.
He catches himself laughing and stops, listening to the sound fade off into the desert, every bit as wide as the first time he saw it.
"I still don't know if there's even another side, you know" he says, "but there must be something else out there. And if you're sticking around, kitty, then... who knows what we might find? There could be anything out there! Hurloks, mabari, adventure..."
And maybe, he thinks, just maybe --
If he walks for long enough and far enough, he might even find himself.
Re: 4/4 - Anders, Death, and how there's no Justice (it's just him)
anonymous
April 28 2011, 03:56:16 UTC
Haha, I'm glad(?) to hear that? Not that making someone tear up ought to be good...
If I could by any chance interest you in Discworld, or if this depiction of the afterlife might've caught your fancy, I'd like to suggest that you check out Small Gods. It's a good one, and pretty standalone.
Re: 4/4 - Anders, Death, and how there's no Justice (it's just him)
anonymous
April 29 2011, 05:06:53 UTC
It's a good thing. :) That one isn't available locally, so is the BBC radio serial (http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/smallgods/) a good adaptation? Otherwise i'll have to see if the Kindle version is available in my region.
Re: 4/4 - Anders, Death, and how there's no Justice (it's just him)
anonymous
April 27 2011, 14:39:00 UTC
This anon is familiar with Discworld and thought of Death's "There's no justice, just us," but didn't feel up to running with it. I am so, so, so happy that you did. This was lovely.
Re: 4/4 - Anders, Death, and how there's no Justice (it's just him)
anonymous
April 28 2011, 03:58:00 UTC
Haha, I was just kind of surprised no one else had done the whole 'DEAD PERSON MEETS DEATH THEY HAVE A CHAT OVER TEA' thing yet. I actually wasn't going to write this, seeing as how the prompt already had several other great fills, but it seemed like an interesting idea...
Ahaha, I'm glad that it worked, I guess! I was honestly a little surprised no one else had done it before me, since there would've been so many opportunities. Random Lowtown Dog Lord + Death, Random Blood Mage + Death, Meredith or Orsino + Death, I actually considered all of those before finally settling on Anders, whom I felt cheated me out of a boss fight by just sitting there and taking it. ): What kind of resolution was that...
Re: 4/4 - Anders, Death, and how there's no Justice (it's just him)
anonymous
April 29 2011, 09:09:09 UTC
derp, failauthor here.
I wanted to make Death speak in smallcaps, actually, as per the books. What I tried to do was to take advantage of the span style font-variant:small-caps thing, which... apparently worked in the comment preview but didn't actually work on the actual posted comment.
Weirdly enough, it ends up working again if you click the 'reply to comment' button- and I tried copying out the original thing to an LJ post (http://nostrum-ago.livejournal.com/12851.html#cutid1 if you're interested), where it actually shows up properly.
Long story short I have no idea why it doesn't work in comments and I am sad that I didn't realise it sooner. ):
He's heard nothing else but the sound of his own breathing for however long it's been since that last disastrous attempt at speech that he half suspects he's going mad again when he realises that something else is moving out in the desert. Anders knows he's not so tired that he should stop just yet, so he slogs on.
Only to stop dead in his tracks when he hears something that's too familiar for his liking.
"You bastard," he says, "you wouldn't."
Breaking into a run, he heads for an outcrop of rubble that's a short distance away. There'd always been items inside such small piles, he'd cracked a joke once that whoever was who kept leaving valuable amulets and belts around in rocks ought to have their heads and wallets checked by him but this time he simply crouches down before even reaching them and digs about in a pouch he hadn't realised he was carrying until now and takes out what's inside.
"Come on, you," Anders calls, his voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. "Come on, I know you're there. This is your favourite, isn't it? And you must be hungry for a treat, you always were --"
There's a second meow, before Ser Pounce-a-lot comes out, gingerly accepts the offering of smoked fish from his fingers and then crawls into his lap.
The weight of the cat is a constant, heavy presence on his legs and Anders can't help but think about how real this all seems as he reaches out to stroke down its back. "You got bigger," he says. "You got bigger, but since I got older I think that's fair. Maker's breath..."
For all he's saying, though, Ser Pounce-a-lot seems as oblivious to his words as ever, turning to sniff at his hand and then at the pouch on his belt that Anders knows is filled with all sorts of treats that he won't be running out of any time soon. It's all going far too well, except --
"Kitty," he asks, "are you dead?"
If this is what a dead cat looks like, though, then he has to say he's impressed. Then again, he's a dead human with no sign of a knife in his back, his coat and boots still both in good condition. Given all the walking he's been doing, that's also fairly impressive.
It's also a shame that cats can't talk back, but from the way Ser Pounce-a-lot has sunk claws into his legs while trying to open the pouch with his teeth and how it hurts in a manner that's completely different from how tiredness hurts, or memories hurt, Anders figures out quickly enough that this question is fairly irrelevant. The cat may or may not be dead, but it is still a cat and it is also, apparently, hungry for snacks.
"I suppose it's enough that you're here," he says, smiling and scooping the cat into his arms before standing up. "You know, I can remember everything now, and I can certainly remember that you didn't use to be so heavy. You've been conning food out of the nice Warden Commander with that cute face of yours, haven't you? Sneaky fat thing."
The only reply to that is a meow, and this is also something he remembers, talking idiotically to the one pet that had meant so much to him. Only it's not a memory, any more, this is old and new again.
"Do you know, kitty," Anders starts, "I thought --"
I'd lost you, is what he wants to say, but obviously he was wrong, so it's something that doesn't need saying any more. Doing its part to contribute to the conversation, though, Ser Pounce-a-lot clambers onto his shoulder and while Anders can't quite catch the expression on his face, he's willing to bet that it radiates smugness.
This would not, in itself, be an unreasonable bet, given the tendency of cats to radiate only a number of different emotions, of which smugness is an unbearably common one.
He catches himself laughing and stops, listening to the sound fade off into the desert, every bit as wide as the first time he saw it.
"I still don't know if there's even another side, you know" he says, "but there must be something else out there. And if you're sticking around, kitty, then... who knows what we might find? There could be anything out there! Hurloks, mabari, adventure..."
And maybe, he thinks, just maybe --
If he walks for long enough and far enough, he might even find himself.
Reply
I'm not familiar with Discworld, but the fills for this prompt made me curious, and yours sealed it. Thank you. :)
Reply
If I could by any chance interest you in Discworld, or if this depiction of the afterlife might've caught your fancy, I'd like to suggest that you check out Small Gods. It's a good one, and pretty standalone.
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
I will love you forever and ever, anon. Forever and ever.
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
I wanted to make Death speak in smallcaps, actually, as per the books. What I tried to do was to take advantage of the span style font-variant:small-caps thing, which... apparently worked in the comment preview but didn't actually work on the actual posted comment.
Weirdly enough, it ends up working again if you click the 'reply to comment' button- and I tried copying out the original thing to an LJ post (http://nostrum-ago.livejournal.com/12851.html#cutid1 if you're interested), where it actually shows up properly.
Long story short I have no idea why it doesn't work in comments and I am sad that I didn't realise it sooner. ):
Reply
This anon is a Discworld fan, and really, really loved this. Anders finding Pounce-a-lot was PERFECT.
Reply
Leave a comment