Fics for 2015 #007 ~ The Seekers (written for dragonyphoenix)
Does this count as femslash? This question only occurred to me as I was about to try typing this story out.
Hit a major emotional downturn, and eventually decided to try escaping it by seeking out other paths. One is Trek-related; another Who-related.
This one is Buffy-related; no telling from my head which of my many 'verses it is set in; indeed it could be all of them. The one I can guarantee it is not set in is Canon.
(Wrote this at approximately a quarter to eight in the evening UK-Time)
This has been written for
dragonyphoenix's birthday, which was actually a couple of days ago. The first draft was written that day though, so only a tiny apology for the delay in getting this to her.
TITLE: The Seekers
AUTHOR:
kerkevik_2014 CHARACTERS: In a Hitch-hikers' Guide to the Galaxy stylee I shall just say that it is safe to say the names of the characters will reveal themselves (as will the 'ship, if it be safe to call it that) without cause to worry about undue stress being caused. Of course many will figure out the names before they are revealed in the story below (also no fair peeking at the tags).
LENGTH: (whatever figure I edited in there will have been calculated after it has been posted as one of those other stories mentioned above is knocking around trying to find an exit point).
A/N: Over time I've become aware that I did not like what canon had done to two characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer and, after fiddling with said canon a wee bit, I've come up with solutions I'm happier with, but then, as another friend of mine is fond of saying (and here I quote
elisi) "isn't that what fanfic is for?"
You know what? I believe she's right.
She imagined a tongue; female and rough, but gentle licking at her face. This was confusing; one because she'd never dreamt of a woman before, but also the tongue was very small, and rasping.
And it's owner seemed to be crying; not teary crying, but cries that spoke of hungry and thirsty, not sadness; bewilderment.
As if the voice couldn't understand what had happened to the world.
Then there was the intermittent lapping of icy-cold water; feeling like very tiny waves reaching in between the coves of her toes. The bath had been very warm and soapy; comforting, though the surroundings had been desperate and unfamiliar.
Desperate licking from a rough and rasping tongue; minature icy-cold waves and a gnawing sense of her own hunger and thirst; together with a coppery taste on her tongue and an insistent throbbing pain in her head finally woke her up.
There was a tiny black and white furred creature staring at her, between attempting to clean it's fur. It mewed again; loud and insistent. She couldn't recall a cat. She couldn't recall getting outside once the earthquake had struck either, but figured that would come back to her.
She realised she was very cold, and that her feet were wet. Looking down towards her feet, her dressing gown clothed body was covered in bruises and scratches. Her feet were indeed wet; being underwater explained that, but where had the water come from? She had a vague certainty that she'd lived, all her life, close to the sea. A sea.
Ocean?
The loud mewing began again. She turned her attention back to her companion, thinking she understood why it was complaining of thirst with so much water close at hand.
Studying her surroundings, nothing seemed familiar, except that there were the remains of any number of dwellings; vegetation and the mangled detritus of civilisation all about her. It took her a while, but it finally penetrated her awakening consciousness that she should look up.
When she did so, she saw an endless upwards vista of the same wreckage of a suburban dream gone to Hell. The sun wasn't visible from where they lay, but she could just about sense where the lip of the crater-lake-wannabe-Sunnydale was. There were noises coming near, but despite a part of her brain telling her these meant rescue, she decided to listen to the tiny creature that had found her, and hid from them.
The whirring flying machine carried on it's searching way after a couple of minutes. by whichtime she'd found warmer clothing, which also seemed to fit her. Maybe she had lived here; this though she doubted, though she also felt it was very true that, unlike virtually all her peers she had, indeed, lived in this town all her life.
Infernally Sunnydale; so aptly named for the enticingly infernal suburban hell she'd always felt trapped in and by; always, like so many others in the town, drawn towards the darknesses that had existed close to the sea, where the rest of the world lay.
She felt a few brief moments of mourning for the loss of that home she had always known; not stopping to ponder on not recallng much beyond a few recent moments of that life she had lived here. Even as she was mourning; she had started to climb, following the sensible reasoning of her feline companion who had begun to move upwards as the waters began to rise up the wrecked slope she'd awoken on.
Not that she had any real way of knowing how long she'd been unconscious; only that it had been early morning, and it was obviously so not that anymore. She could feel her mind trying to figure all this out, somewhere inside her brain, but couldn't quite seem to find the answers.
In any case she was concentrating on figuring out where food and water, and fresh changes of clothing might be found as she climbed upwards.
However long she'd been out of it, she'd woken up a lot closer to nightfall than she'd first imagined. The temperature dropped radically as lights began appearing around the lips of the crater-like basin of what had once been Sunnydale. A supply of drinking water was the first problem to be solved as, after a couple of minutes of searching for her; the mewings of her companion led to what may have been the back storage room of a survivalist, that now lay on one of the lower lips of the basin.
Whoever they'd been, they'd left a good supply of bottled water behind when they'd fled town. No edible food though, or none that could be reached safely.
No clothes that she could see either, though there were medical supplies, which she used to treat her own messed up body; after the cat had allowed her to tend the wound on it's back leg, as well as the bloodied fur on it's head, though that was not the cat's she felt relieved to find.
Probably her own, she reasoned.
Whatever, there were a few blankets that gave them something to keep the cold out as they tried to get some proper sleep.
She was awoken by the same rough tongue as before just before dawn proper began. Instinct drawing her away from the same potential rescuers as her furry saviour, she began to climb again, after stocking what water she could into a makeshift backpack she made from the blankets.
Sometime after noon they came across food; raw as it was. Not that the cat minded the fish it found, though she would have preferred her vegetables to have been fresher; or cooked at least.
Still food it was and, after a brief rest to consume it, Human and Feline, refreshed a little began to climb again.
It was, she thought, almost another full day before they reached the very uppermost lip of the crater; allowing for having to wait until they could safely avoid being rescued (the closer to the top they'd gotten, she became ever-more certain she wanted none of their safety.
Though she was less resistant to purloining supplies from them; especially clothes (the underwear had been the most welcome of all; even if it had been designed for less than feminine body types.
Larger too, but she was able to figure out ways around that; creating supply belts that bulked her out a bit, and allowed ways of attaching the underwear more securely. Thus, by the time nightfall came again and, after a brief period wondering whether her companion had abandoned her, they were ready to head away, and inland, from the rescuers.
Not that she'd been aware of any others in what observations she'd been able to make. Must have been some though, she reasoned. She'd also reasoned that there were a lot of unmilitary-looking military vehicles and equipment; manned by a great number of unmilitary-seeming military types around; far too organised and willing to be ordered, and obey the orders, about by very military looking types.
She also spotted a couple of corpses; not looking very human, even given the fact that they were dead and a bit mangled. She could not recognise any of the military types guarding them, but something said to her that these were to be avoided for reasons of her own.
Not that she gave much thought to the feelings; just instintually decided to head inland, and away, from all of them.
They must have gone south she remembered thinking; stopped too to wonder who they were, before heading in a northerly direction once a smaller highway had been reached; vaguely easterly at first, then on a more westerly tilt until, about four days after she'd been awoken by her companion, and morning after a night stolen in a motel room, she recognised a landmarlk that told her that directly north would be a transit point that could take her to San Francisco.
Stolen cash from a family camping roadside gave her the means to legitmately get a room; guiltily having to hide her rescuer from the owners and/or employees.
Three nights there and they were en route again, though now tending to the east of where San Francisco lay.
After two more days and nights of walking they found themselves near a small rail stop with an abandoned, an very old-fashioned, water tower from the days of steam. That was as far as they walked because, after being woken by a small goods train stopping to unload some supplies, a few of which she managed to filch before hiding them both on the rearmost of the three lonely wagons.
In the end it was likely the fact that it was heading eastwards that made her decide to hobo aboard.
East her brain had decided was the direction they needed to be going.
A full two weeks after escaping the crater/basin/lake that Sunnydale had been, or was becoming, they reached the a small town by an equally small river, where she decided to decamp from another train; they'd also travelled via truck and foot, and start southwards towards where, a vague sense of direction told her lay a big river.
It was about then she started to ponder on why she could only remember the names of places that lay behind her, in a manner of speaking. Miss-something, or other, was the name of the river, though she was uncertain of that; certain she was that she could recall the names of none of the towns or cities that lay in the direction she was headed.
It was about then she realised that she could not; had not in fact, recalled her own name once since she'd woken all that time back. Her feline companion though was a different matter.
In the back, empty, of one of the trucks they'd hidden aboard, she'd suddenly started calling her, female it had also suddenly occurred to her; explaining, perhaps, the confused lesbian imaginings just before she had awoken, companion and rescuer by the name she felt certain belonged to it.
So, from that day on, at least one of the pair knew their name. Miss Kitty, she mused, had naturally known her own name all along. Unfairly, for which she apologised by stealing some treats from a small store, she accused Miss Kitty of knowing her name and refusing to tell her.
She was certain however that wherever; whatever, or whoever it was they were seeking between them, they'd been heading to the same place all the time.
Briefly, before they boarded a train to Kansas City; with stolen money of course, Amy decided (that that would be her name from here on in; after seeing a torn movie poster), that she really wished she knew how to fly, though her apparent natural ability to steal whatever means they needed would also be useful to explain.
For now, Amy was content to watch the moon in the sky through the sleeper train window, watching Miss Kitty eat the cat food she had pleasingly persuaded the guard to provide.
She also felt confident that whatever was drawing them east would be revealed; even if it came with a sense of unease, a little for her own safety, but mostly that she feared Miss Kitty might part from her if they found what they were seeking.
Too tired, though contented in a way she had, or could not recall, ever being, to wonder about it too much, Amy fell asleep as the train left the station.
Goddess watch over us all,
Kerk TehKek
Hit a major emotional downturn, and eventually decided to try escaping it by seeking out other paths. One is Trek-related; another Who-related.
This one is Buffy-related; no telling from my head which of my many 'verses it is set in; indeed it could be all of them. The one I can guarantee it is not set in is Canon.
(Wrote this at approximately a quarter to eight in the evening UK-Time)
This has been written for
dragonyphoenix's birthday, which was actually a couple of days ago. The first draft was written that day though, so only a tiny apology for the delay in getting this to her.
TITLE: The Seekers
AUTHOR:
kerkevik_2014 CHARACTERS: In a Hitch-hikers' Guide to the Galaxy stylee I shall just say that it is safe to say the names of the characters will reveal themselves (as will the 'ship, if it be safe to call it that) without cause to worry about undue stress being caused. Of course many will figure out the names before they are revealed in the story below (also no fair peeking at the tags).
LENGTH: (whatever figure I edited in there will have been calculated after it has been posted as one of those other stories mentioned above is knocking around trying to find an exit point).
A/N: Over time I've become aware that I did not like what canon had done to two characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer and, after fiddling with said canon a wee bit, I've come up with solutions I'm happier with, but then, as another friend of mine is fond of saying (and here I quote
elisi) "isn't that what fanfic is for?"
You know what? I believe she's right.
She imagined a tongue; female and rough, but gentle licking at her face. This was confusing; one because she'd never dreamt of a woman before, but also the tongue was very small, and rasping.
And it's owner seemed to be crying; not teary crying, but cries that spoke of hungry and thirsty, not sadness; bewilderment.
As if the voice couldn't understand what had happened to the world.
Then there was the intermittent lapping of icy-cold water; feeling like very tiny waves reaching in between the coves of her toes. The bath had been very warm and soapy; comforting, though the surroundings had been desperate and unfamiliar.
Desperate licking from a rough and rasping tongue; minature icy-cold waves and a gnawing sense of her own hunger and thirst; together with a coppery taste on her tongue and an insistent throbbing pain in her head finally woke her up.
There was a tiny black and white furred creature staring at her, between attempting to clean it's fur. It mewed again; loud and insistent. She couldn't recall a cat. She couldn't recall getting outside once the earthquake had struck either, but figured that would come back to her.
She realised she was very cold, and that her feet were wet. Looking down towards her feet, her dressing gown clothed body was covered in bruises and scratches. Her feet were indeed wet; being underwater explained that, but where had the water come from? She had a vague certainty that she'd lived, all her life, close to the sea. A sea.
Ocean?
The loud mewing began again. She turned her attention back to her companion, thinking she understood why it was complaining of thirst with so much water close at hand.
Studying her surroundings, nothing seemed familiar, except that there were the remains of any number of dwellings; vegetation and the mangled detritus of civilisation all about her. It took her a while, but it finally penetrated her awakening consciousness that she should look up.
When she did so, she saw an endless upwards vista of the same wreckage of a suburban dream gone to Hell. The sun wasn't visible from where they lay, but she could just about sense where the lip of the crater-lake-wannabe-Sunnydale was. There were noises coming near, but despite a part of her brain telling her these meant rescue, she decided to listen to the tiny creature that had found her, and hid from them.
The whirring flying machine carried on it's searching way after a couple of minutes. by whichtime she'd found warmer clothing, which also seemed to fit her. Maybe she had lived here; this though she doubted, though she also felt it was very true that, unlike virtually all her peers she had, indeed, lived in this town all her life.
Infernally Sunnydale; so aptly named for the enticingly infernal suburban hell she'd always felt trapped in and by; always, like so many others in the town, drawn towards the darknesses that had existed close to the sea, where the rest of the world lay.
She felt a few brief moments of mourning for the loss of that home she had always known; not stopping to ponder on not recallng much beyond a few recent moments of that life she had lived here. Even as she was mourning; she had started to climb, following the sensible reasoning of her feline companion who had begun to move upwards as the waters began to rise up the wrecked slope she'd awoken on.
Not that she had any real way of knowing how long she'd been unconscious; only that it had been early morning, and it was obviously so not that anymore. She could feel her mind trying to figure all this out, somewhere inside her brain, but couldn't quite seem to find the answers.
In any case she was concentrating on figuring out where food and water, and fresh changes of clothing might be found as she climbed upwards.
However long she'd been out of it, she'd woken up a lot closer to nightfall than she'd first imagined. The temperature dropped radically as lights began appearing around the lips of the crater-like basin of what had once been Sunnydale. A supply of drinking water was the first problem to be solved as, after a couple of minutes of searching for her; the mewings of her companion led to what may have been the back storage room of a survivalist, that now lay on one of the lower lips of the basin.
Whoever they'd been, they'd left a good supply of bottled water behind when they'd fled town. No edible food though, or none that could be reached safely.
No clothes that she could see either, though there were medical supplies, which she used to treat her own messed up body; after the cat had allowed her to tend the wound on it's back leg, as well as the bloodied fur on it's head, though that was not the cat's she felt relieved to find.
Probably her own, she reasoned.
Whatever, there were a few blankets that gave them something to keep the cold out as they tried to get some proper sleep.
She was awoken by the same rough tongue as before just before dawn proper began. Instinct drawing her away from the same potential rescuers as her furry saviour, she began to climb again, after stocking what water she could into a makeshift backpack she made from the blankets.
Sometime after noon they came across food; raw as it was. Not that the cat minded the fish it found, though she would have preferred her vegetables to have been fresher; or cooked at least.
Still food it was and, after a brief rest to consume it, Human and Feline, refreshed a little began to climb again.
It was, she thought, almost another full day before they reached the very uppermost lip of the crater; allowing for having to wait until they could safely avoid being rescued (the closer to the top they'd gotten, she became ever-more certain she wanted none of their safety.
Though she was less resistant to purloining supplies from them; especially clothes (the underwear had been the most welcome of all; even if it had been designed for less than feminine body types.
Larger too, but she was able to figure out ways around that; creating supply belts that bulked her out a bit, and allowed ways of attaching the underwear more securely. Thus, by the time nightfall came again and, after a brief period wondering whether her companion had abandoned her, they were ready to head away, and inland, from the rescuers.
Not that she'd been aware of any others in what observations she'd been able to make. Must have been some though, she reasoned. She'd also reasoned that there were a lot of unmilitary-looking military vehicles and equipment; manned by a great number of unmilitary-seeming military types around; far too organised and willing to be ordered, and obey the orders, about by very military looking types.
She also spotted a couple of corpses; not looking very human, even given the fact that they were dead and a bit mangled. She could not recognise any of the military types guarding them, but something said to her that these were to be avoided for reasons of her own.
Not that she gave much thought to the feelings; just instintually decided to head inland, and away, from all of them.
They must have gone south she remembered thinking; stopped too to wonder who they were, before heading in a northerly direction once a smaller highway had been reached; vaguely easterly at first, then on a more westerly tilt until, about four days after she'd been awoken by her companion, and morning after a night stolen in a motel room, she recognised a landmarlk that told her that directly north would be a transit point that could take her to San Francisco.
Stolen cash from a family camping roadside gave her the means to legitmately get a room; guiltily having to hide her rescuer from the owners and/or employees.
Three nights there and they were en route again, though now tending to the east of where San Francisco lay.
After two more days and nights of walking they found themselves near a small rail stop with an abandoned, an very old-fashioned, water tower from the days of steam. That was as far as they walked because, after being woken by a small goods train stopping to unload some supplies, a few of which she managed to filch before hiding them both on the rearmost of the three lonely wagons.
In the end it was likely the fact that it was heading eastwards that made her decide to hobo aboard.
East her brain had decided was the direction they needed to be going.
A full two weeks after escaping the crater/basin/lake that Sunnydale had been, or was becoming, they reached the a small town by an equally small river, where she decided to decamp from another train; they'd also travelled via truck and foot, and start southwards towards where, a vague sense of direction told her lay a big river.
It was about then she started to ponder on why she could only remember the names of places that lay behind her, in a manner of speaking. Miss-something, or other, was the name of the river, though she was uncertain of that; certain she was that she could recall the names of none of the towns or cities that lay in the direction she was headed.
It was about then she realised that she could not; had not in fact, recalled her own name once since she'd woken all that time back. Her feline companion though was a different matter.
In the back, empty, of one of the trucks they'd hidden aboard, she'd suddenly started calling her, female it had also suddenly occurred to her; explaining, perhaps, the confused lesbian imaginings just before she had awoken, companion and rescuer by the name she felt certain belonged to it.
So, from that day on, at least one of the pair knew their name. Miss Kitty, she mused, had naturally known her own name all along. Unfairly, for which she apologised by stealing some treats from a small store, she accused Miss Kitty of knowing her name and refusing to tell her.
She was certain however that wherever; whatever, or whoever it was they were seeking between them, they'd been heading to the same place all the time.
Briefly, before they boarded a train to Kansas City; with stolen money of course, Amy decided (that that would be her name from here on in; after seeing a torn movie poster), that she really wished she knew how to fly, though her apparent natural ability to steal whatever means they needed would also be useful to explain.
For now, Amy was content to watch the moon in the sky through the sleeper train window, watching Miss Kitty eat the cat food she had pleasingly persuaded the guard to provide.
She also felt confident that whatever was drawing them east would be revealed; even if it came with a sense of unease, a little for her own safety, but mostly that she feared Miss Kitty might part from her if they found what they were seeking.
Too tired, though contented in a way she had, or could not recall, ever being, to wonder about it too much, Amy fell asleep as the train left the station.
Goddess watch over us all,
Kerk TehKek