Fic: Medinn: The Chance
Lip update: less swelling, more bruising. I look like a have dirt in my face, or half a mustache. I think I'd look very swank with a mustache.
Stayed in bed almost all day, because I could. Transformers: Animated makes me very happy, in a silly sort of way. I think I should always watch Transformers in November/December, it makes me feel very Christmasy. ^^
Title: The Chance
Storyline: Medinn (original sort of fantasy)
Characters: Kemar and the dogs of Medinn
What: Kemar makes a new acquaintance and almost kills a military official.
Status: 1035 words, first part of a substory or something.
Warning: Eh, nothing really. Kemar is bitter. Repeated use of the word "dog". Two untranslated tribal terms.
The sun was high in the sky when the noise came, shining bright and sharp as a knife in Kemar’s eyes, and he had to hold both his hands over his brow to see across the square. At the end, where the buildings parted for the wider main road, people were moving. People always moved in the city, bustling around each other like termites on a track. He wondered, for a moment, when he’d seen termites last. Medinn was made of stone, like the hearts of dogs, no place for living things.
This movement was different, more like the confusion of startled birds. He was standing on his toes when the noise came again, a strange sound like a wounded animal, and now Kemar saw it: the Medinn standard. A tangled silhouette of black on red, rolling gently in the dry wind. The noise came from a pair of brass instruments, he wasn’t sure what they were but the people holding them to their faces were Medinn soldiers in parade uniform. Following them was a line of soldiers, then a carriage, open to the sun, holding another pair of soldiers and a woman in what had to be an officer’s uniform: the pieces of metal on her chest and shoulders glinted and sparkled in the sun.
There was a Medinn military leader coming his way, dog of dogs, completely unprotected, and here he was. Kemar. Teharaher. With the press of the crowd around the market no one would even see it coming, and then the confusion would shield him. He slipped into the narrow alley behind him, feeling his skin cool in the shade, only the leather of his karet-nak still scorching hot against his thighs.
Kemar leaned against the wall, his heart beating hard against his ribs. He took a deep breath to steady himself, then another. Then he locked his eyes on the officer and called out the Jackal’s fire. It started as a tingling at the back of his neck, traveling down his spine and out into his hands. It built in the space of his palms. His skin felt cold and far away, the air around him hot and heavy. He imagined it spreading, drew a line along his sight to the high-held head of officer, could feel the air around the woman vibrate hot-cold and thick as mud, and everything in his world was in that space. The air in his hands began to crackle softly, a harsh shudder down his spine telling him close, close now and he raised his hands slowly-
A dark blur caught only out of the very corner of his eye tackled him roughly against the wall and pushed him down, and his Jackal’s fire dwindled into a painful stinging in his hands. The dog held him down, pressing Kemar’s pounding heart into the ground. It said something in a low growl that Kemar couldn’t hear over the thunder in his ears. The haze of dust clung to his heavy breath, getting into his mouth and nose to mingle with the taste of blood. Through it, Kemar saw the parade pass by the alley, unharmed. Unharmed, while he lay with his face in the dirt, caught by the dogs of Medinn. He grit his teeth against the sting in his eyes and the hurt in his chest.
Either the dogs had seen him and brought him down simply because he was of the people, and they would do whatever amused them, or they knew and would do whatever it took to make him talk. Kemar was ready to die, but he wasn’t sure he was ready for that kind of pain.
When the last soldier had passed and the street outside filled back up with trampling feet and everyday voices, the dog sat back on its haunches. Kemar coughed up a thick mix of blood and dust, shook his hair away and turned his head to look at his captor, but didn’t quite dare sit. Sometimes the dogs liked to play. ”Resisting arrest” was only one of their favourites.
They remained like that for a while. The dog that caught him was a softer place in the shadows, lean and still. It held its head slightly tilted, its gloved hands hanging between its knees. It looked relaxed, but the dogs always did. Kemar imagined it studied him back, behind its dark glasses. Only then did he notice that it was alone. He’d never seen a dog without its pack before, and for a moment he allowed himself to hope maybe he’d only mistaken it for one, that the situation wasn’t deadly and suddenly unknown. But there was no mistaking the uniform, nor the slight bulge of a weapon beneath the coat.
Kemar considered his chances of getting up and into the crowd before the dog put a bullet in his brain, when it took its glasses off, revealing bright green eyes lined in black. They were an almost hypnotizing shock of colour among all the black, like a single spot of sunlight in a dark tent. If its intentions were to confuse him, it was certainly succeeding. Perhaps it was a new game, a new way to make them talk. He half-expected the missing dog to come out of thin air with an armful of sharp things, all meant for him, or for this one to somehow bore into his very heart with its gaze alone. Perhaps that was why they always hid their eyes.
The dog tucked the glasses into a pocket and looked around them, out onto the market and back up the alley. Then it looked back at Kemar, eyes slightly narrowed.
”You should take the alley,” it said, in a smooth Medinn voice. ”There are Academy on their way to the square.”
Kemar just stared.
”Well, break’s over.” It stood and stretched, and if Kemar hadn’t known much, much better he’d say it sounded casual, friendly. ”You stay out of trouble now.”
And then it walked away, pulling the glasses back out as it stepped into the market.
Kemar fought to stop shaking and start breathing again.
Stayed in bed almost all day, because I could. Transformers: Animated makes me very happy, in a silly sort of way. I think I should always watch Transformers in November/December, it makes me feel very Christmasy. ^^
Title: The Chance
Storyline: Medinn (original sort of fantasy)
Characters: Kemar and the dogs of Medinn
What: Kemar makes a new acquaintance and almost kills a military official.
Status: 1035 words, first part of a substory or something.
Warning: Eh, nothing really. Kemar is bitter. Repeated use of the word "dog". Two untranslated tribal terms.
The sun was high in the sky when the noise came, shining bright and sharp as a knife in Kemar’s eyes, and he had to hold both his hands over his brow to see across the square. At the end, where the buildings parted for the wider main road, people were moving. People always moved in the city, bustling around each other like termites on a track. He wondered, for a moment, when he’d seen termites last. Medinn was made of stone, like the hearts of dogs, no place for living things.
This movement was different, more like the confusion of startled birds. He was standing on his toes when the noise came again, a strange sound like a wounded animal, and now Kemar saw it: the Medinn standard. A tangled silhouette of black on red, rolling gently in the dry wind. The noise came from a pair of brass instruments, he wasn’t sure what they were but the people holding them to their faces were Medinn soldiers in parade uniform. Following them was a line of soldiers, then a carriage, open to the sun, holding another pair of soldiers and a woman in what had to be an officer’s uniform: the pieces of metal on her chest and shoulders glinted and sparkled in the sun.
There was a Medinn military leader coming his way, dog of dogs, completely unprotected, and here he was. Kemar. Teharaher. With the press of the crowd around the market no one would even see it coming, and then the confusion would shield him. He slipped into the narrow alley behind him, feeling his skin cool in the shade, only the leather of his karet-nak still scorching hot against his thighs.
Kemar leaned against the wall, his heart beating hard against his ribs. He took a deep breath to steady himself, then another. Then he locked his eyes on the officer and called out the Jackal’s fire. It started as a tingling at the back of his neck, traveling down his spine and out into his hands. It built in the space of his palms. His skin felt cold and far away, the air around him hot and heavy. He imagined it spreading, drew a line along his sight to the high-held head of officer, could feel the air around the woman vibrate hot-cold and thick as mud, and everything in his world was in that space. The air in his hands began to crackle softly, a harsh shudder down his spine telling him close, close now and he raised his hands slowly-
A dark blur caught only out of the very corner of his eye tackled him roughly against the wall and pushed him down, and his Jackal’s fire dwindled into a painful stinging in his hands. The dog held him down, pressing Kemar’s pounding heart into the ground. It said something in a low growl that Kemar couldn’t hear over the thunder in his ears. The haze of dust clung to his heavy breath, getting into his mouth and nose to mingle with the taste of blood. Through it, Kemar saw the parade pass by the alley, unharmed. Unharmed, while he lay with his face in the dirt, caught by the dogs of Medinn. He grit his teeth against the sting in his eyes and the hurt in his chest.
Either the dogs had seen him and brought him down simply because he was of the people, and they would do whatever amused them, or they knew and would do whatever it took to make him talk. Kemar was ready to die, but he wasn’t sure he was ready for that kind of pain.
When the last soldier had passed and the street outside filled back up with trampling feet and everyday voices, the dog sat back on its haunches. Kemar coughed up a thick mix of blood and dust, shook his hair away and turned his head to look at his captor, but didn’t quite dare sit. Sometimes the dogs liked to play. ”Resisting arrest” was only one of their favourites.
They remained like that for a while. The dog that caught him was a softer place in the shadows, lean and still. It held its head slightly tilted, its gloved hands hanging between its knees. It looked relaxed, but the dogs always did. Kemar imagined it studied him back, behind its dark glasses. Only then did he notice that it was alone. He’d never seen a dog without its pack before, and for a moment he allowed himself to hope maybe he’d only mistaken it for one, that the situation wasn’t deadly and suddenly unknown. But there was no mistaking the uniform, nor the slight bulge of a weapon beneath the coat.
Kemar considered his chances of getting up and into the crowd before the dog put a bullet in his brain, when it took its glasses off, revealing bright green eyes lined in black. They were an almost hypnotizing shock of colour among all the black, like a single spot of sunlight in a dark tent. If its intentions were to confuse him, it was certainly succeeding. Perhaps it was a new game, a new way to make them talk. He half-expected the missing dog to come out of thin air with an armful of sharp things, all meant for him, or for this one to somehow bore into his very heart with its gaze alone. Perhaps that was why they always hid their eyes.
The dog tucked the glasses into a pocket and looked around them, out onto the market and back up the alley. Then it looked back at Kemar, eyes slightly narrowed.
”You should take the alley,” it said, in a smooth Medinn voice. ”There are Academy on their way to the square.”
Kemar just stared.
”Well, break’s over.” It stood and stretched, and if Kemar hadn’t known much, much better he’d say it sounded casual, friendly. ”You stay out of trouble now.”
And then it walked away, pulling the glasses back out as it stepped into the market.
Kemar fought to stop shaking and start breathing again.