HARR: Out of Ashes
Fandom: Hills and Rivers Remain
Main characters: Alan, Viola
Referenced characters: Zelgius
Pairings: None
Contains: N/a
Rating: G
Summary: A man and a woman stand alone in the midst of destruction, ready to begin again. For
overlooked.
"There are almost no supplies remaining," Viola says. Her face is still pale, and Alan wonders if her death-wound still somehow pains her, even though she is somehow restored to him. He can smell fire, on the wind, and tries not to imagine what it might be: funeral pyres, perhaps, or some destruction of the cannons.
"We will have to march to the nearest fort."
Viola nods, although she must know, as well as he does, that there's little chance. Zelgius knew what he was condemning them to. None better.
"There must be others still alive."
She nods again. "We had best take weapons," she says. He looks down at the sword on his hip, knowing that if he draws it there will be red-brown blood drying on the blade, even now. It pains him to think of Viola's own sword, surely just as stained -- of her bright-eyed idealism, drowned in blood.
"No," he says, drawing his sword and letting it fall. "If we fight, then we please Zelgius. We prove to him that he is right."
Slowly, Viola lets her own sword fall. It rings on the stone, bright and hard. "I will follow you," she says.
I will not be disabling comments on this journal during Three Weeks for Dreamwidth, but if you have a Dreamwidth account, you're welcome to follow me and comment there. The original post for this entry is here.
Main characters: Alan, Viola
Referenced characters: Zelgius
Pairings: None
Contains: N/a
Rating: G
Summary: A man and a woman stand alone in the midst of destruction, ready to begin again. For
overlooked.
"There are almost no supplies remaining," Viola says. Her face is still pale, and Alan wonders if her death-wound still somehow pains her, even though she is somehow restored to him. He can smell fire, on the wind, and tries not to imagine what it might be: funeral pyres, perhaps, or some destruction of the cannons.
"We will have to march to the nearest fort."
Viola nods, although she must know, as well as he does, that there's little chance. Zelgius knew what he was condemning them to. None better.
"There must be others still alive."
She nods again. "We had best take weapons," she says. He looks down at the sword on his hip, knowing that if he draws it there will be red-brown blood drying on the blade, even now. It pains him to think of Viola's own sword, surely just as stained -- of her bright-eyed idealism, drowned in blood.
"No," he says, drawing his sword and letting it fall. "If we fight, then we please Zelgius. We prove to him that he is right."
Slowly, Viola lets her own sword fall. It rings on the stone, bright and hard. "I will follow you," she says.
I will not be disabling comments on this journal during Three Weeks for Dreamwidth, but if you have a Dreamwidth account, you're welcome to follow me and comment there. The original post for this entry is here.