Rabbits and writing
There is a very nice article about Tir Ysgithr and the SCA here in Tucson, and one of the pictures has me in it :-). Thank you semy_of_pearls for pointing that out to me!
Ben & Jerry's has a new flavor in honor of our new president: Yes Pecan :-)
Today is Down the Rabbit-Hole Day (Lewis Carroll's birthday). It explains so much! I am in a sufficiently discombobulating hole of half-access with the restart of work that I don't think actively invoking such a thing right here in my own space is a particularly good idea, though.
Methos, however....
Methos decided to talk to me by way of the flashslash prompts from last week. I was going to do something light (and still hope to, using the *other* set of prompts) but then the prompts for the first set might as well have been taken directly from "Tantalus" and this is the result. It may even be the beginning of the next part.
Flashslash 90 prompt #2
27 Jan 09
Title: Rabbit Hole
Author: Lferion
Fandom: Highlander
Character|Pairing: Methos
Rating|Genre: G - Gen
Wordcount: 321
Prompts: dash echo poison/ous submission/submit
Note - this belongs with/is possibly the beginning of what follows Tantalus.
Tantalus - part 1/2
Tantalus - part 2/2
*** *** ***
He remembered running, the poison in his veins only an echo of the poisonous presence of the man who called himself Beli and less insidious than his words. He remembered dashing his whole body (bone and breath and will - hardly enough flesh to count) against the one board in the wall of the shed that had given just the tiniest bit under his cheek as he pressed vainly against it, trying to avoid the unavoidable lash, the prick and probe and horrible slide of the metal under his skin. Remembered the jolt of the needle hitting bone, breaking, and the acid spill of whatever that shit was they gave him burning down the furrows in his back. Something in him had revolted, refused to submit for even one more moment. Remembered the sickening crash of the weighted handle against the side of his head and a long, dim agony of fire and darkness punctuated with intolerable light and the iron clangor of bells.
When he found himself once more in the damp, musty chill of the shed he'd been astonished, and when the board flexed under the pressure of his shoulder he had moved into some state well past amazement and into determination. He remembered the crack of the board, the seam of light that glimmered and winked as he flinched away from the noise and the expectation of discovery. But the light drew him, proving to be the beginnings of a bonfire. (Bonefire, pyre, altar of sacrifice, and oh, he remembered the smoke and the smell and the screams. Remembered burning, remembered breathing flame and dying in fire.) Wood splintered under his hands as he threw himself against the thread of light and the board broke, tumbling him into the brittle mess of dead weeds that filled the space between the shed and the low wall that divided yard from court, profane from sacred.
With a shuddering start, Methos woke.
Ben & Jerry's has a new flavor in honor of our new president: Yes Pecan :-)
Today is Down the Rabbit-Hole Day (Lewis Carroll's birthday). It explains so much! I am in a sufficiently discombobulating hole of half-access with the restart of work that I don't think actively invoking such a thing right here in my own space is a particularly good idea, though.
Methos, however....
Methos decided to talk to me by way of the flashslash prompts from last week. I was going to do something light (and still hope to, using the *other* set of prompts) but then the prompts for the first set might as well have been taken directly from "Tantalus" and this is the result. It may even be the beginning of the next part.
Flashslash 90 prompt #2
27 Jan 09
Title: Rabbit Hole
Author: Lferion
Fandom: Highlander
Character|Pairing: Methos
Rating|Genre: G - Gen
Wordcount: 321
Prompts: dash echo poison/ous submission/submit
Note - this belongs with/is possibly the beginning of what follows Tantalus.
Tantalus - part 1/2
Tantalus - part 2/2
*** *** ***
He remembered running, the poison in his veins only an echo of the poisonous presence of the man who called himself Beli and less insidious than his words. He remembered dashing his whole body (bone and breath and will - hardly enough flesh to count) against the one board in the wall of the shed that had given just the tiniest bit under his cheek as he pressed vainly against it, trying to avoid the unavoidable lash, the prick and probe and horrible slide of the metal under his skin. Remembered the jolt of the needle hitting bone, breaking, and the acid spill of whatever that shit was they gave him burning down the furrows in his back. Something in him had revolted, refused to submit for even one more moment. Remembered the sickening crash of the weighted handle against the side of his head and a long, dim agony of fire and darkness punctuated with intolerable light and the iron clangor of bells.
When he found himself once more in the damp, musty chill of the shed he'd been astonished, and when the board flexed under the pressure of his shoulder he had moved into some state well past amazement and into determination. He remembered the crack of the board, the seam of light that glimmered and winked as he flinched away from the noise and the expectation of discovery. But the light drew him, proving to be the beginnings of a bonfire. (Bonefire, pyre, altar of sacrifice, and oh, he remembered the smoke and the smell and the screams. Remembered burning, remembered breathing flame and dying in fire.) Wood splintered under his hands as he threw himself against the thread of light and the board broke, tumbling him into the brittle mess of dead weeds that filled the space between the shed and the low wall that divided yard from court, profane from sacred.
With a shuddering start, Methos woke.