Fic: The Breaking Wave: Prologue (0/4)
"Can't you sleep?"
He shrugged, staring down at the maps and charts, and his king raised his golden eyebrows. "This will be your first time back on land in fifteen years. How are you feeling?"
He had shields against the murmur of emotions and half-thoughts, a shield like cool seawater. "It's a job, one that you have honored me with, my liege. I shall execute it to the best of my abilities."
The other man merely looked at him gravely, and after a moment he opened his mind enough to let the king see what lay underneath: fear and excitement, worry at not being up to the task, a strange hope that he couldn't possibly have expressed in words. That he had no need to express in words.
King Orin reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder. "You'll do well. It's the job you were always meant to do, and I trust you with it, my brother."
He smiled then. "Thank you, Arthur."
: : :
Superman stood on the makeshift pier in San Diego, waiting. The sky was dull and leaden, wind whipping spume off vicious waves: the aftereffects of a large chunk of the city dropping abruptly into the ocean.
Beside him, Diana shifted slightly in a liquid clash of armor. She was in full Amazonian regalia; when Superman had asked why, she had noted that she was here not only as a member of the League, but as the representative of Themyscira to another ancient civilization. The Atlanteans had been reclusive and isolationist even since they revealed themselves to the world five years ago, and only this recent crisis had prompted them to send an ambassador to the land, to offer their aid for the drowned city that people were already calling "Sub Diego."
Among the white-capped waves, a round ship emerged. It had an odd organic look to it, despite its sleek lines--like some deep-sea protozoan, glimmering under the sullen sky. It docked with the pier, a hatch in the side opening.
Kal felt spray on his face, tasted salt on his lips.
Six men and women emerged from the craft. All had dark hair, black or brown. Five of them were wearing clothes in bright colors--scarlets and corals, neon blues and purples. The last one--
Kal knew he was staring, couldn't seem to stop himself. "Who in the world is that?" he heard himself ask, surprised to hear himself say it out loud.
The sixth member of the party was dressed all in black, an ebony suit glinting with silver embroidery in strange patterns, cut in a strange style. There was a cape, also black, streaming against the wind. Kal could see the cape was held in place with two large circular crests on the shoulders: a silver wave against a golden sky, caught in the moment of breaking, a perfect curve bisecting the circle into nearly a yin-yang symbol.
The man's dark hair fell to his shoulders, blowing in the high wind. Even from this distance, Kal could see that his eyes were a dark and stormy blue. Inset in his neck, dark against the pale skin, were two matte black commas of metal.
Diana's voice beside him was vaguely amused. "Didn't you even read the briefing materials?" she asked in response to the question he hardly remembered asking, had long since moved beyond. "That's the newly-appointed Ambassador to the Land, Atlantis's first ever. He's supposedly a land-dweller like ourselves, rescued long ago by the Atlanteans and raised as a foster-brother to the king. No one seems to know what his birth name was; they gave him an Atlantean name that came close to his in sound, one they apparently felt captured his spirit."
Salt on his mouth, a kiss of spray, blowing. Diana continued explaining above the wind and the waves as if everything hadn't changed entirely.
"They call him Buruzh, which means in the Old Tongue, 'The Breaking Wave.'"
He shrugged, staring down at the maps and charts, and his king raised his golden eyebrows. "This will be your first time back on land in fifteen years. How are you feeling?"
He had shields against the murmur of emotions and half-thoughts, a shield like cool seawater. "It's a job, one that you have honored me with, my liege. I shall execute it to the best of my abilities."
The other man merely looked at him gravely, and after a moment he opened his mind enough to let the king see what lay underneath: fear and excitement, worry at not being up to the task, a strange hope that he couldn't possibly have expressed in words. That he had no need to express in words.
King Orin reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder. "You'll do well. It's the job you were always meant to do, and I trust you with it, my brother."
He smiled then. "Thank you, Arthur."
: : :
Superman stood on the makeshift pier in San Diego, waiting. The sky was dull and leaden, wind whipping spume off vicious waves: the aftereffects of a large chunk of the city dropping abruptly into the ocean.
Beside him, Diana shifted slightly in a liquid clash of armor. She was in full Amazonian regalia; when Superman had asked why, she had noted that she was here not only as a member of the League, but as the representative of Themyscira to another ancient civilization. The Atlanteans had been reclusive and isolationist even since they revealed themselves to the world five years ago, and only this recent crisis had prompted them to send an ambassador to the land, to offer their aid for the drowned city that people were already calling "Sub Diego."
Among the white-capped waves, a round ship emerged. It had an odd organic look to it, despite its sleek lines--like some deep-sea protozoan, glimmering under the sullen sky. It docked with the pier, a hatch in the side opening.
Kal felt spray on his face, tasted salt on his lips.
Six men and women emerged from the craft. All had dark hair, black or brown. Five of them were wearing clothes in bright colors--scarlets and corals, neon blues and purples. The last one--
Kal knew he was staring, couldn't seem to stop himself. "Who in the world is that?" he heard himself ask, surprised to hear himself say it out loud.
The sixth member of the party was dressed all in black, an ebony suit glinting with silver embroidery in strange patterns, cut in a strange style. There was a cape, also black, streaming against the wind. Kal could see the cape was held in place with two large circular crests on the shoulders: a silver wave against a golden sky, caught in the moment of breaking, a perfect curve bisecting the circle into nearly a yin-yang symbol.
The man's dark hair fell to his shoulders, blowing in the high wind. Even from this distance, Kal could see that his eyes were a dark and stormy blue. Inset in his neck, dark against the pale skin, were two matte black commas of metal.
Diana's voice beside him was vaguely amused. "Didn't you even read the briefing materials?" she asked in response to the question he hardly remembered asking, had long since moved beyond. "That's the newly-appointed Ambassador to the Land, Atlantis's first ever. He's supposedly a land-dweller like ourselves, rescued long ago by the Atlanteans and raised as a foster-brother to the king. No one seems to know what his birth name was; they gave him an Atlantean name that came close to his in sound, one they apparently felt captured his spirit."
Salt on his mouth, a kiss of spray, blowing. Diana continued explaining above the wind and the waves as if everything hadn't changed entirely.
"They call him Buruzh, which means in the Old Tongue, 'The Breaking Wave.'"