Firefly/Angel Ficlet: "She's blue."
Right, so once upon a time I was a terrible friend who happens to suck at remembering birthdays, and I forgot Frédéric's. So he took me up at last on asking me to write him a little something, and what with his love for Illyria and for Firefly, guess what he asked for. Illyria on Serenity.
So, here goes, scribbled on my notepad on the flight back from England. All of them belong to Joss, obviously. I'm just having fun. Set obviously well after the Angel series finale, and after Serenity as well.
"She's blue."
"River."
River was bent in two and studying the buckles of the dark blood red leather boots. The verdigris had not forgotten the perfect copper it once was, Cu(CH 3 COO) 2, and the buckles were telling her a story - not born of matter but forced into it, and tired, but not forgetful. Never forgetful, for all there was was inside the mind, and if they forgot reality shifted. It was a story, and it was a reality.
"River."
River crouched down on the floor of Serenity's cargo bay - living, breathing - and brushed a fingertip on the metal - not cold, nor warm, but other. She leaned closer, fingers spreading on the floor, palms itching, and she gave one of the buckles a tiny lick, aware of the weight of the blue eyes on her, questioning and still.
"River."
No longer questioning, but demanding. "Why call her after a stream, mortal?"
River made a face. Bitter, sour, raw, nothing sweet but the taste of old wounds - enemies' - festering in the sun, blood washing away down the gutter, to join past worlds and horror beyond reckoning, except hers - whose?
"RIVER!"
River looked up, still on all fours, and her face said, yes Mal?
Mal looked - felt, was - on the brink of losing patience.
"River, why's there a blue lady callin' me mortal in the middle of my cargo bay?"
Slowly, River stood up - unfolded, and her albatross wings - eyes gliding on the leather as they gained height. Leather, and the long dark and blue hair, and the pointed, thin pale face, specks and tints of blue, impossible eyes.
The leather smelled like her. Ancient.
"Ancient," River echoed her own thought. Maybe.
"This one seems more evolved than the usual apes of your species. Yet she does not want me to kill. She reminds me..."
The ancient voice trailed off, but River remembered. She remembered each one of them, and the only one that had mattered. She felt the hints of something not ancient, and hot, and thought she might try to put names on it. Grief, and loss.
"Look here, lady," Mal interrupted the non-existent silence. "I ain't used to strangers settin' foot on my boat without so much as an invite, and I'm feelin' even less partial to talks of killing, so if you -"
"You weary me, mortal."
River slid in front of Mal on the last word, turned aside the blow that might have crushed their skulls. Luck, luck that it was held back, not what it could have been, or there would be brains and bone splinters on Serenity's floor.
There was surprise, hidden under the monotone. "You deflected my blow."
"Cap'n's a good man," River answered, and watched the lips curl in scorn, or a smile.
"Once I would have feasted on his insides for that."
"Alright, that's enough!" Mal shouted. "River, what in the sphincter of hell were you thinking bringing this guai dan on board?"
River turned her attention back to Mal - so simple, trustworthy, and soothing in a way few were - and smiled the smile of a little girl.
"She's blue. Can I keep her?"
So, here goes, scribbled on my notepad on the flight back from England. All of them belong to Joss, obviously. I'm just having fun. Set obviously well after the Angel series finale, and after Serenity as well.
"She's blue."
"River."
River was bent in two and studying the buckles of the dark blood red leather boots. The verdigris had not forgotten the perfect copper it once was, Cu(CH 3 COO) 2, and the buckles were telling her a story - not born of matter but forced into it, and tired, but not forgetful. Never forgetful, for all there was was inside the mind, and if they forgot reality shifted. It was a story, and it was a reality.
"River."
River crouched down on the floor of Serenity's cargo bay - living, breathing - and brushed a fingertip on the metal - not cold, nor warm, but other. She leaned closer, fingers spreading on the floor, palms itching, and she gave one of the buckles a tiny lick, aware of the weight of the blue eyes on her, questioning and still.
"River."
No longer questioning, but demanding. "Why call her after a stream, mortal?"
River made a face. Bitter, sour, raw, nothing sweet but the taste of old wounds - enemies' - festering in the sun, blood washing away down the gutter, to join past worlds and horror beyond reckoning, except hers - whose?
"RIVER!"
River looked up, still on all fours, and her face said, yes Mal?
Mal looked - felt, was - on the brink of losing patience.
"River, why's there a blue lady callin' me mortal in the middle of my cargo bay?"
Slowly, River stood up - unfolded, and her albatross wings - eyes gliding on the leather as they gained height. Leather, and the long dark and blue hair, and the pointed, thin pale face, specks and tints of blue, impossible eyes.
The leather smelled like her. Ancient.
"Ancient," River echoed her own thought. Maybe.
"This one seems more evolved than the usual apes of your species. Yet she does not want me to kill. She reminds me..."
The ancient voice trailed off, but River remembered. She remembered each one of them, and the only one that had mattered. She felt the hints of something not ancient, and hot, and thought she might try to put names on it. Grief, and loss.
"Look here, lady," Mal interrupted the non-existent silence. "I ain't used to strangers settin' foot on my boat without so much as an invite, and I'm feelin' even less partial to talks of killing, so if you -"
"You weary me, mortal."
River slid in front of Mal on the last word, turned aside the blow that might have crushed their skulls. Luck, luck that it was held back, not what it could have been, or there would be brains and bone splinters on Serenity's floor.
There was surprise, hidden under the monotone. "You deflected my blow."
"Cap'n's a good man," River answered, and watched the lips curl in scorn, or a smile.
"Once I would have feasted on his insides for that."
"Alright, that's enough!" Mal shouted. "River, what in the sphincter of hell were you thinking bringing this guai dan on board?"
River turned her attention back to Mal - so simple, trustworthy, and soothing in a way few were - and smiled the smile of a little girl.
"She's blue. Can I keep her?"