Past-Part Fills Post 1 -- CLOSED
Thanks to anon's suggestions we are now enforcing a past-part fills post
Fresh past-part fills post HERE
Comments and Suggestions go here
Don't forget to link your new fill at the fill index over here.
Remember though that you need not post your updates unless you posted in a new part
Keep yourself up to date -- check out the NEWS HERE
Gold.
His breathe hitched and he tugged the hood of his parka down, ears stinging in the cold air. More gold, lots of it. He shivered and ran his fingers through it, feeling sick. It couldn’t, wouldn't be real. He stared wide eyed at the ice-mirror, cold purple where warm brown should be, warm gold where raven black should be. He touched his face, feeling the strange sharper features and feeling terror set in. He smelt leather and rabbit fur, his mitts, and stared at them. He couldn't smell in his dreams. This was real, sickening, disgustingly real.
He tore off both his gloves, staring at them, mouth open. White, white like snow, like strangers. They didn't belong, they, weren't his. They weren't, they weren't, played in his head like an anthem.
He tore the knife from his belt and sliced a line across his arm, before he could cut the arm off Father had his wrist, holding the knife above his head and twisting until Matt let go with a cry of pain. Then he screamed, kicking and screaming, struggling to get away, to change things. One boot slammed against the ice, knocking it away and breaking his snow shoe, his fingers dug into the snow and the river, punching and clawing at everything and beating them against the ground.
He cried and screamed as Father wrapped both arms around him, trying to hug him, hold him down and he turned it all on him, beating his little fists against his chest and sobbing and crying and screaming until his eyelids froze to his face and was numb and frozen, shaking with silent sobs.
"Ssh, little one. Ssh." Whispered Father, untangling one arm from the ball Matt had curled in and running a finger over the wound. Matthew glanced up, blinking and having to wrench open his eyes. He rubbed his eyes with one hand, letting the warmth melt the lashes apart and looked down at the little specks of gold eyelashes on his palm. Father kissed the cut and let it freeze over, a layer of ice to keep it safe for now. It stung but the sting faded away into numbness with the rest of Matthew's feelings.
The walk east was silent, broken only by the occasional sob and a quiet request to put his mitts back on. Eventually Matt feel asleep, slowly rocked asleep but his father, murmured words in a language older then time in his ear. "You are safe, I will always love you." Sweet little things Matthew knew were lies but clung to anyways.
Reply
Silence.
"Were are they?" A demand, loud and powerful without the childish pouting this time. "What did you do?" A whisper, begging and half to tears. He was still a child after all.
"Time changes everything..."
There was a little scoff from his side, "Everything but you..." Winter's lips curled up in a sad mockery of a smile, oh how true that was.
"They are gone, little one."
"What did you do!"
"Nothing." His breath hitched. "That's why their gone." The snow crunched and Winter kept walking, turning his back on the boy. "You remember the first ones? You told me to protect them, that the cold would kill them?" Matthew nodded, biting his bottom lip. "And then?"
"... red."
He nodded, "You remember the people. They are gone, just like them." Matthew gulped, horrible memories of people, his own and the others being hacked apart. The dying gasps of people sounded the same in every language, they all begged for the same things; Mercy, family, home. He remembered the corpses, eyes glazed over, tossed across the ground. Red blood on the dirt, staining the land. Red on red skin, white skin. Red blood on his face.
"G-gone?" He got a sad nod.
"The Europeans will take, take and change." He ran his fingers through Matthews hair, pulling the gold back from over his eyes. "You need to change your self, you are young, you can. The other nations they..."
"They're all gone?"
"They will be soon." He sighed, feeling the cold places in his heart his children had left. Very little kept him warm, expect a small place locked away from the world filled with little flickering flames, sputtering and choking to death. He sighed and carried on, "The Europeans will love you, you look like them. They will take care of you till you grow. Be safe, my Mathew."
"Wait, where are you going?"
He pointed to the trees, a few drops of water ever slowly sliding off as the sun melted the snow and ice. "No, no! You can't go!" Matt clung to him, balling his fists against the oilskin parka.
"Winter doesn't last forever."
"Nu-uh! Don't go! I don't want you too!" Winter sighed and picked him up, rocking the child in his arms as Matt buried his face against his neck, wrapping his arms around and pleading in a way that cut his soul. "Please! Don't leave me all alone!" He tightened his grip, never wanting to let go.
And when night fell, somewhere in the dark, silent dance of snowflakes Matt's grip loosened. Winter sighed and sat down in the snow, rocking Matthew like a cranky baby. He ran his fingers through his hair and memorized every rise and fall of his last son's chest, the mummers as he squirmed when the hood of his parka fell. He whispered every loving song and story he could remember in his long life, filling his head with warmth and history, then kissed his forehead sealing it all under a sheet of ice in Matthew’s soul. Leaving the memories safe and hidden so he could grown up a happy golden child, but there for the one day he realized who he truly was, when he could melt the ice and remember.
When Francis found him he was a tiny ball of white skin and gold hair, buried in a nest of warm furs, little kisses of snowflakes melting on his face to hide the tears. One for being left alone in the old, and one for losing his favourite son. Ice in both their hearts.
Reply
OH. MY. GOD.
Anon- ...holy shit anon. This is- this is just beautiful! Wonderful! Fantastic!
native-taaaannnsss /makes grabby hands
Reply
Astounding fill~~ <3
Reply
This is so damn good, I feel very inadequate as a writer now.
Reply
I love the whole thing, and I love the end, and I have visions tumbling through my head of modern, grown-up Canada coming face to face with General Winter again. This one is going to stay with me a while.
Reply
@ grabby hands anon.
As if! You like, totally don't. Your not nearly as like, like-y right?
*Hugs.* Nah, you are wonderful. Seriously, put a smile on my face seeing your response right after I posted. And made me check for everyone else's. Their breasts do not belong to you Korea. Iroquois Confederacy alone was like six nations, so I assume baby Matt had a heck of alot of siblings, even if most must have lived very far off / been Alfred's siblings too. But I'm happy it didn't come off as insulting not really touching on them. I didn't want to do the research to go more in depth. ^^'
@ only anon who didn't swear.
Your making me blush. Last paragraph, and the last of part two were basically written in at the last minute to attempt to tie up everything, so I'm glad it didn't come off as jarring. You get a hug too, *Squeezes.* For making me extremely happy, I was worried the metaphors broke up the flow and slowed down the piece, I'm glad someone likes my style.
@ not-inadequate anon
D: I'm sure your an amazing writer anon! And actually on time instead of me. Don't get scared off just cause someone else wrote something you think is better, besides I think this is a flowery piece of shit, get really pissed and determined to write something better to make the other anons suffer. So basically pull a Russia. Besides, I'm sure OPer's are just happy to see their ideas come to life.
@ incoherent anon.
Your rubbing off on me, since I'm not sure what to say expect thanks! I'm glad it had such an effect on you. And now you set off the same vision in my head, stop making me want to write things. I have other fills saved to write. *Hugs.*
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment