City of Bridges
Title: City of Bridges
Author: possibly_thrice
Rating: PG-13 for mentions of murder and corpse disposal...?
Characters: Erik Lensherr and an anonymous Nazi.
Warnings: Mentions of murder and corpse disposal. :'I
Challenge: "travel"
Word Count: 200
Once, Erik went to Venice.
When he had done what he came there to do, he took the body to a canal. The water closed, dark but clear, over what was left of her head, and her hair pulled away from her face in a startling moment of unplanned-for motion, spreading fine and pale around the ruined roundness of her skull.
She had grown old, in the time it had taken him to find her. He hadn't, quite, expected that.
He had wrapped her legs in chickenwire. Now he sent her to the bottom with a snap of his wrist.
The water moved in strange ways, forcibly displaced within itself, and then went still. The city lights, reflected in unlikely millions on its scummy surface, seemed to shiver long past the point when they should have stilled, but Erik didn't mind. It was turning out to be a nice evening. The anger had stayed to keep him company in the dark.
He crouched down by the edge; his fingers left bloody smears on the blue tile. If he had thought to bring wine or oil, he would have poured it into the water, then, and watched it bloom like hair.
Author: possibly_thrice
Rating: PG-13 for mentions of murder and corpse disposal...?
Characters: Erik Lensherr and an anonymous Nazi.
Warnings: Mentions of murder and corpse disposal. :'I
Challenge: "travel"
Word Count: 200
Once, Erik went to Venice.
When he had done what he came there to do, he took the body to a canal. The water closed, dark but clear, over what was left of her head, and her hair pulled away from her face in a startling moment of unplanned-for motion, spreading fine and pale around the ruined roundness of her skull.
She had grown old, in the time it had taken him to find her. He hadn't, quite, expected that.
He had wrapped her legs in chickenwire. Now he sent her to the bottom with a snap of his wrist.
The water moved in strange ways, forcibly displaced within itself, and then went still. The city lights, reflected in unlikely millions on its scummy surface, seemed to shiver long past the point when they should have stilled, but Erik didn't mind. It was turning out to be a nice evening. The anger had stayed to keep him company in the dark.
He crouched down by the edge; his fingers left bloody smears on the blue tile. If he had thought to bring wine or oil, he would have poured it into the water, then, and watched it bloom like hair.