Seven sentences
Sorry about the delay, I wasn't expecting I'd be working what feels like non-stop this past week. But here are the sentences, for PotC, Labyrinth, Firefly, Ivanhoe, a little Alice in Wonderland and Greek mythology. It was rather interesting trying to switch between that many fandoms, and I do hope you'll like the result. With thanks to geekmama for looking them over for me.
For outinthestorm, Mal/River, “tiara”.
“Ain’t gettin’ me to put the thing on, and that’s that,” he states, and she tuts at him, settles the plastic toy tiara on her own head instead, saying, “Whoever wears it must be obeyed,” and his brows rise, so she continues, instructing him, “It’s mine now, you missed your opportunity,” and he snorts, eyeing her with suspicion, something tingly like calculation, then replies, “I could just take it, you know,” and she’s smiling with the words, “You can try.”
For thimble_kiss, Brian/Rebecca, “sunrise”.
She woke before sunrise, her heart in her throat, and when, at first light, he arrived to continue their game of chess, she flushed unwillingly at his greeting, earning a sharp glance that made her stomach knot with the memory: how he had come to her with the battle behind him and wounds she could heal, and how she, in her dream, had not denied him, but had taken him to her as he knelt, her hands on his shoulders and his face pressed to her breast.
For shyaway, Persephone, “bloom”.
He woos her with white-blossomed asphodel, his pride set aside like helmet and shield after war, and she thinks not of crocuses or daffodils, but of the long stems of these offered flowers, heavy with a mourning bloom, and she takes them, not because she has no choice, as the world above her would have it, as her mother would claim, but the world and Demeter are not here, and it is her choice.
For luxuria_oceanus, Jareth/Sarah, “illusion”.
“How far,” he says, “would you take this?” and there’s no illusion between them, no glamour, but he’s no less fey without it, she can taste the danger like blood in her mouth, the crackle of wild, uncanny magic, but he’s here because she wished it, she’s kissed him, it’s a little late for regret; she catches her breath to reply, “How far will you let me?” and his face stills, his hand comes up to slip, gloved, into her hair, against her skin, along with his whispered, “Test me.”
For jenthegypsy, Jack Sparrow and the Hatter, “hats”.
“Looking for someone, mate?” he hears, and the sea is vast and wide and Alice-less, he tears his gaze from it to face the speaker, a man with hair a-clutter, topped by a serviceable hat, but Hatter’s fingers itch with possibilities, the shapes and forms that could match; then he sighs, recalling the when he's mislaid, saying, “I’m too early,” and the man’s smile is quicksilver, his response amused: “Time enough for a drink then, eh, and you can tell me where you got that hat.”
For honorat, Anamaria and Elizabeth, “truce”.
“Would you have done it?” Elizabeth asked, and Ana thought her daft, still, but the girl had fought with the crew and it counted for something; so she didn’t lie, said, “Maybe,” watching those eyes grow round in the gloom below ship, but added, “Maybe not, now,” because she’d seen them, the undead, felt the push and grab of greedy hands, and the governor's daughter hesitated, then nodded, accepting that as truce.
For geekmama, Jack/Elizabeth, “reluctant”. Set in my AU 'verse.
“No worries,” he comments, impossibly cheerful, peering down to the sea where Gibbs and the longboat await, “those rocks are tiny, trifling-nigh invisible,” and she glares at him, snapping, “That’s cold comfort!” but the sound of voices and the baying of hounds sends a shiver of fear down her spine, greater than her reluctance, so she steps up to the brink of the cliff and mutters, “Bloody pirate,” and he chuckles, his gold-edged grin daring her as they jump.
For outinthestorm, Mal/River, “tiara”.
“Ain’t gettin’ me to put the thing on, and that’s that,” he states, and she tuts at him, settles the plastic toy tiara on her own head instead, saying, “Whoever wears it must be obeyed,” and his brows rise, so she continues, instructing him, “It’s mine now, you missed your opportunity,” and he snorts, eyeing her with suspicion, something tingly like calculation, then replies, “I could just take it, you know,” and she’s smiling with the words, “You can try.”
For thimble_kiss, Brian/Rebecca, “sunrise”.
She woke before sunrise, her heart in her throat, and when, at first light, he arrived to continue their game of chess, she flushed unwillingly at his greeting, earning a sharp glance that made her stomach knot with the memory: how he had come to her with the battle behind him and wounds she could heal, and how she, in her dream, had not denied him, but had taken him to her as he knelt, her hands on his shoulders and his face pressed to her breast.
For shyaway, Persephone, “bloom”.
He woos her with white-blossomed asphodel, his pride set aside like helmet and shield after war, and she thinks not of crocuses or daffodils, but of the long stems of these offered flowers, heavy with a mourning bloom, and she takes them, not because she has no choice, as the world above her would have it, as her mother would claim, but the world and Demeter are not here, and it is her choice.
For luxuria_oceanus, Jareth/Sarah, “illusion”.
“How far,” he says, “would you take this?” and there’s no illusion between them, no glamour, but he’s no less fey without it, she can taste the danger like blood in her mouth, the crackle of wild, uncanny magic, but he’s here because she wished it, she’s kissed him, it’s a little late for regret; she catches her breath to reply, “How far will you let me?” and his face stills, his hand comes up to slip, gloved, into her hair, against her skin, along with his whispered, “Test me.”
For jenthegypsy, Jack Sparrow and the Hatter, “hats”.
“Looking for someone, mate?” he hears, and the sea is vast and wide and Alice-less, he tears his gaze from it to face the speaker, a man with hair a-clutter, topped by a serviceable hat, but Hatter’s fingers itch with possibilities, the shapes and forms that could match; then he sighs, recalling the when he's mislaid, saying, “I’m too early,” and the man’s smile is quicksilver, his response amused: “Time enough for a drink then, eh, and you can tell me where you got that hat.”
For honorat, Anamaria and Elizabeth, “truce”.
“Would you have done it?” Elizabeth asked, and Ana thought her daft, still, but the girl had fought with the crew and it counted for something; so she didn’t lie, said, “Maybe,” watching those eyes grow round in the gloom below ship, but added, “Maybe not, now,” because she’d seen them, the undead, felt the push and grab of greedy hands, and the governor's daughter hesitated, then nodded, accepting that as truce.
For geekmama, Jack/Elizabeth, “reluctant”. Set in my AU 'verse.
“No worries,” he comments, impossibly cheerful, peering down to the sea where Gibbs and the longboat await, “those rocks are tiny, trifling-nigh invisible,” and she glares at him, snapping, “That’s cold comfort!” but the sound of voices and the baying of hounds sends a shiver of fear down her spine, greater than her reluctance, so she steps up to the brink of the cliff and mutters, “Bloody pirate,” and he chuckles, his gold-edged grin daring her as they jump.