Stargate Atlantis - Elizabeth Weir
First, two that I've already written:
(Disclaimers for both are already found with the story)
Title: Eulogy
Rated: R
Word Count: Long
Prompt: Winter
Title: A Thousand Words
Rated: R
Word Count: Rather Long
Prompt: Years
And a new one (unbetaed, shh) -
Rated:R
Word Count: 786
Prompt: Red
When she first opens her eyes, she thinks that she might be dreaming.
The alien grass is cool against her cheek, vegetation so similar to her home world that, for just a moment, she almost believes that she’s back on Earth. A slight breeze whispers across her cheek, causing the brittle leaves of a nearby bush to rattle and sending a flock of some exotic species of birds into flight. It’s not necessarily cool, but not warm either; a perfect temperature that makes her think only of dozing.
A familiar scent tickles her nose, but she can’t quite place it.
It scratches at the back of her mind, this smell, but her memory is too fuzzy to comprehend it.
Overhead, a lazy sun and its twin moon challenge one another. It may be the planet’s equivalent to noon or midnight, with the two celestial bodies basically canceling out the effects of one another.
She thinks that this odd predicament may help to explain the rest of the sky, stained a bright, cheerful shade of red. Her logical side reminds her of radiation fears and she hears a ghost of a voice throwing out statistics and safety precautions. It’s a male, and irritatingly condescending, so she is almost certain that the voice is not hers.
The speaker, however, escapes her at the moment.
Her head rolls languidly to the side and she allows her eyes to slip shut, content with the warm comfort that she is finding in this place.
She should be alarmed, she realizes. But she’s not quite sure why.
The next time she opens her eyes, the sun and moon have switched places and she wonders if she missed some sort of eclipse as they passed across one another.
She finds herself disappointed.
Her hand twitches and she raises it up, fingers idly playing with the curiously wandering insect she finds there. Its hard ebony shell reflects the soft light from overhead, the red sky illuminating the similar colored streaks on the bug’s body. As she watches, the colors move, slowly dripping their way down from the insect’s body until it hits the soft skin of her raised palm.
She finds this odd.
The bug flies away, its leathery wings whirring softly, and it seems in this moment that the wings of the tiny animal shift the entire atmosphere of the world around her. The wind is frigid in an instant, her exhaled breaths forming quivering clouds
in the air as she continues to watch her raised hand.
The red pools slowly in the creases in her palm and when she moves to examine it, the liquid escapes, running in streams down her forearm.
It doesn’t hurt. But she thinks that it should.
It slowly slides down to her elbow, leaving an angry bloody brand behind. She lifts up her other hand in confusion, to run her fingers over the warm liquid, and is startled to see her other arm completely coated in it.
There is a bitter, copper taste in the back of her throat and she is suddenly terrified of what might be happening to her.
The sky has changed now, deepening to an unholy shade of crimson.
She thinks that if Death had a color, this may be it.
She sits up, eyes wide with panic.
There is no more grass. There is no nearby bush. And any hint of the animals who had been there is now gone.
She sits on the barren plane, arms tightening around herself as an evil wind snakes around her. Shivering, she closes her eyes tightly shut. It’s partly a vain attempt to make sense of this, and partly to block out the sight of the growing puddle of blood beneath her.
She senses something over her and instinctively ducks against the unknown intruder.
Opening her eyes, her surprise is almost tangible as she takes in the large bird standing in front of her.
‘An eagle’, something tells her.
And then it opens its wings, taking flight once again. The feathers are silent as they slice through the wind and the slight breeze it creates is warm as she embraces the relief from the chill.
It all comes back at once, thousands of memories slamming into her at once, and the air is knocked out of her lungs by the force of it.
Atlantis. The Tal'eesh. The treaty. The party. The smiles of their new allies. Wolves in sheeps clothing.
And she remembers falling, John's arms reaching out to cradle her, his voice calling her name even as she faded into unconsciousness.
She screams his name now without hesitation, hoping that he somehow hears even with the sharp wind blowing around her.
The departing eagle cocks its head slightly and she sees its mouth open, although she cannot actually hear his cry.
The wind dies. The sky lightens. The air warms.
And somewhere, far in the distance, she can hear him yelling her name.
She closes her eyes again, blindly stumbling her way back to him.
(Disclaimers for both are already found with the story)
Title: Eulogy
Rated: R
Word Count: Long
Prompt: Winter
Title: A Thousand Words
Rated: R
Word Count: Rather Long
Prompt: Years
And a new one (unbetaed, shh) -
Rated:R
Word Count: 786
Prompt: Red
When she first opens her eyes, she thinks that she might be dreaming.
The alien grass is cool against her cheek, vegetation so similar to her home world that, for just a moment, she almost believes that she’s back on Earth. A slight breeze whispers across her cheek, causing the brittle leaves of a nearby bush to rattle and sending a flock of some exotic species of birds into flight. It’s not necessarily cool, but not warm either; a perfect temperature that makes her think only of dozing.
A familiar scent tickles her nose, but she can’t quite place it.
It scratches at the back of her mind, this smell, but her memory is too fuzzy to comprehend it.
Overhead, a lazy sun and its twin moon challenge one another. It may be the planet’s equivalent to noon or midnight, with the two celestial bodies basically canceling out the effects of one another.
She thinks that this odd predicament may help to explain the rest of the sky, stained a bright, cheerful shade of red. Her logical side reminds her of radiation fears and she hears a ghost of a voice throwing out statistics and safety precautions. It’s a male, and irritatingly condescending, so she is almost certain that the voice is not hers.
The speaker, however, escapes her at the moment.
Her head rolls languidly to the side and she allows her eyes to slip shut, content with the warm comfort that she is finding in this place.
She should be alarmed, she realizes. But she’s not quite sure why.
The next time she opens her eyes, the sun and moon have switched places and she wonders if she missed some sort of eclipse as they passed across one another.
She finds herself disappointed.
Her hand twitches and she raises it up, fingers idly playing with the curiously wandering insect she finds there. Its hard ebony shell reflects the soft light from overhead, the red sky illuminating the similar colored streaks on the bug’s body. As she watches, the colors move, slowly dripping their way down from the insect’s body until it hits the soft skin of her raised palm.
She finds this odd.
The bug flies away, its leathery wings whirring softly, and it seems in this moment that the wings of the tiny animal shift the entire atmosphere of the world around her. The wind is frigid in an instant, her exhaled breaths forming quivering clouds
in the air as she continues to watch her raised hand.
The red pools slowly in the creases in her palm and when she moves to examine it, the liquid escapes, running in streams down her forearm.
It doesn’t hurt. But she thinks that it should.
It slowly slides down to her elbow, leaving an angry bloody brand behind. She lifts up her other hand in confusion, to run her fingers over the warm liquid, and is startled to see her other arm completely coated in it.
There is a bitter, copper taste in the back of her throat and she is suddenly terrified of what might be happening to her.
The sky has changed now, deepening to an unholy shade of crimson.
She thinks that if Death had a color, this may be it.
She sits up, eyes wide with panic.
There is no more grass. There is no nearby bush. And any hint of the animals who had been there is now gone.
She sits on the barren plane, arms tightening around herself as an evil wind snakes around her. Shivering, she closes her eyes tightly shut. It’s partly a vain attempt to make sense of this, and partly to block out the sight of the growing puddle of blood beneath her.
She senses something over her and instinctively ducks against the unknown intruder.
Opening her eyes, her surprise is almost tangible as she takes in the large bird standing in front of her.
‘An eagle’, something tells her.
And then it opens its wings, taking flight once again. The feathers are silent as they slice through the wind and the slight breeze it creates is warm as she embraces the relief from the chill.
It all comes back at once, thousands of memories slamming into her at once, and the air is knocked out of her lungs by the force of it.
Atlantis. The Tal'eesh. The treaty. The party. The smiles of their new allies. Wolves in sheeps clothing.
And she remembers falling, John's arms reaching out to cradle her, his voice calling her name even as she faded into unconsciousness.
She screams his name now without hesitation, hoping that he somehow hears even with the sharp wind blowing around her.
The departing eagle cocks its head slightly and she sees its mouth open, although she cannot actually hear his cry.
The wind dies. The sky lightens. The air warms.
And somewhere, far in the distance, she can hear him yelling her name.
She closes her eyes again, blindly stumbling her way back to him.