More Micro-Fic Sets -- Star Wars Prequels and Sanctuary
Three more One-Sentence ficlet sets -- Two Star Wars Prequels, one Sanctuary, mostly General, one Adult. Full meta-data on AO3
At the request of
athenaborozon:
Star Wars Prequels - Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi: Swelter, Spires, Becalmed, Shimmering, Ecstasy
Swelter
The hold of the little ship taking them to Hiraeu 3 was sweltering, kept warm and humid for the comfort of the usual cargo, not the occasional human passenger, but Obi-Wan had long since ceased to notice, attention firmly focused on the sight of his Master, Qui-Gon,, doing open-hand katas among the stasis-webbed greenery, wearing only a hip-wrap and gilded with sweat.
Spires
Aspire, respire, perspire, inspire, expire, conspire, suspire, transpire…. Obi-Wan plied his stylus doggedly, dutifully listing out words as the T’kharh high-caste youths were doing, isolate in the Spire of Learning; Qui-Gon had wanted him here, had allowed the T’khaian Proctor-of-Youths to object to Obi-Wan’s unbearded presence among the negotiators and bustle him off to this out of the way place, going with the Moment. There had been no mention of this in the briefing materials: what did Qui-Gon - no, what did the Force - want him here for? He would just have to keep his eyes open and see.
Becalmed
Sometimes, Obi-Wan thought as he looked out at the vast expanse of sand that was the Dune Sea, it was as if his small house was a ship becalmed, floating in a backwater, waiting for the storm wind that Anakin’s son could not but be at the center of; sometimes, he could sense that he was not alone, and over the years he had come to trust that the warmth that stood at his shoulder was indeed Qui-Gon, and that however the storm raged, the light would prevail.
Shimmering
Coruscant shimmered, a gem from orbital, a vivid map as the transport came closer, a world-city of spires and lights and life from any point one looked once landed; Qui-Gon looked down at his new padawan: the brilliance of his light was far more wondrous than anything the planet had to offer.
Ecstasy
Impatient, Obi-Wan took matters into his own hands and rolled Qui-Gon onto his back, straddling his hips and sinking down with exquisite deliberation, taking his rigid, weeping length in fully; Qui-Gon opened eyes hot with love and need as Obi-Wan leaned down to kiss him before setting up a rhythm that would soon see them both reach the peaks of ecstasy.
Read on AO3
At the request of
morgynleri:
Star Wars Prequels - Qui-Gon Jinn: Path, Truth, Choices, Heirloom, Hidden
Path
There was a faint path running through the trees, invisible but for the glimmer of starlight on pale stone here, an eddy of whispering grasses there - no disarray of scattered leaves, no heel or hoof-prints marked soft loam, no thread of cloth or hair-wisp fluttered, caught on twig or dagger-thorn, no sign but possibility visible to outer eyes or sense at all, yet to inner-sight, the very absence was a signal, and to Qui-Gon’s keen Force-sense the swift and fiercely joyous passage of the Aeirykith was clear as a ribbon of silver-green light, fled to freedom beyond the wood.
Truth
The path to truth for a Jedi was rife with choices - did one stay close to the Temple filled with all the artifacts and heirlooms of the Order’s long and storied history, a flame hidden amongst other flames, tending the gardens, teaching those who came, watching over them as they went to and fro on business of the Order, whim of the Senate, the Will of the Force; or did one embrace that outward and visible journey, seek knowledge among the many and diverse peoples of the universe, actively work to expand the harmony and beauty of the Living Force? For Qui-Gon, that choice had never been in question: light or dark, shadow or sunlight, going or staying, fighting or loving, speaking or listening - none of those were choices, binaries, exclusive one of the other, nor even incompatible divergences, however stark the contrast between them; no, in Master Qui-Gon’s truth there were few ‘ors’ but many ‘ands’ - the Living Force was his lodestone and inspiration, guide and sustenance, and in that vast and varied plenitude true opposites or antitheses were rare indeed: even life and death were not necessarily mutually exclusive, when looked at from a certain point of view.
Choices
Finis Valorum had met Qui-Gon Jinn at a time when both had a choice before them: in some ways the same choice, in others quite different; both had chosen service over study (though certainly one never stopped learning, growing in skill and knowledge, perception and understanding, were one the least advertent), both had chosen a kind of solitude, though that singleness had never precluded companionship or even intimacy, and throughout the lives shaped by those choices they'd maintained a connection nourishing both; now Citizen Valorum stood at his oldest friend's pyre, oddly feeling still not alone -- choice, chance, change continued.
Heirloom
The cup was an heirloom of the House, hand-raised from a single sheet of green-bronze to an intricate and graceful shape, inscribed with ancient symbols and set with gems of subtle color that catch the light and glimmer in the shadows, old, storied and with a mind of it’s own, defenses that rise at threat to those of the House, or to it’s own self - it has never been stolen but that the thief returned it directly, unharmed; Qui-Gon raised it in solemn toast to mark the signing of the alliance-compact, unsurprised to see the mead within glowing faintly green.
Hidden
When one has gone entirely into the Force, one is occult, hidden, unseen, except by those one chooses to be perceived by - chosen, and the effort made to shape oneself in form, clothe thought, will and feeling in a semblance to be seen, heard, in very rare circumstances touched, sensed directly in the solid world by those with eyes to see, ears to hear, and the trained skill to use them; ‘tis no light matter (though indeed it is of the Light) to hold oneself coherent and discrete within the Unifying Force, aphysical: within the Living Force, I yet live.
Read on AO3
Sanctuary - Will Zimmerman: Cheater, Dominant, Birthday, Razor, Wealth
Cheater
It seemed to Will that Nikola Tesla had, in one way or another, been cheating Death his entire life, but to call him a cheater - no, that he was not; deceptive, yes, particularly by omission, rarely by flat out lying, sly, oh most definitely, three steps ahead all too often, not to mention positively gleeful about how clever and inventive he was (just don’t ever mention Edison) , even disconcertingly selfless on occasion, for a very small number of people, but as long as you remembered that he actually meant the seemingly nonsensical things he said, a cheater he was not.
Dominant
The wonder of it was that ‘The Five’ as they called themselves had managed to do as much together as they had, thought Will, nearly all (he didn’t have enough information on Nigel to say, and the mere thought of extrapolating from Clara was painful, entirely aside from being less than useful) clearly such idiosyncratic and dominant personalities - not necessarily domineering, though there was little doubt each one could be, when they chose, when circumstances warranted - and yet firmly tied to each other; perhaps the wonder was that most of them had succeeded in making and maintaining connections beyond themselves.
Birthday
He’d been flipping almost idly through the calendar on Helen’s desk, waiting for her to finish her discussion with Declan about some delicate point of business (he’d heard ‘unexpected intricacy having to do with James’ estate’ and decided he did not want to know, thank you), noting that she kept scrupulous note of all her people’s birthdays (or namedays or other culturally or personally important marker-days, as well as significant dates Will had no context for); when he reached the nineteenth of November he felt an unexpected wrench of sorrow: he and James had shared a birthday, 120 years apart.
Razor
Will came upon the razor unexpectedly - old-fashioned, straight blade gleaming sharp, hinge and catch still oiled smooth, true-ivory handle inlaid with silver wire wound at collar and base, lying in a fitted case with strop and whetstone, beautiful and horrifying at once, sitting in a storeroom amidst a clutter of other anonymous objects; drawn, Will raised the glass lid, reaching for it; the grip small (too small for Druitt’s hand, and those wounds had all been the work of knives) and shivered: if the Ripper, Holmes and the Invisible Man were real, might not the Demon Barber also have been?
Wealth
Every once in a while, the sheer quantity of wealth Helen had would strike Will, startling him into seeing some new aspect of the astonishing world he had fallen headlong into; it wasn’t even the big things (after discovering that Helen owned a submarine, the planes and boats and even the wide net of influential and international connections were hardly a surprise), it was realizing that all the art was original, finding a bombe in the basement, paging through affectionately inscribed first editions lying about on end-tables - such a wealth of knowledge, understanding, love, and worth far more than money.
Read on AO3
This entry was originally posted at http://lferion.dreamwidth.org/220593.html, where there are currently
comments. Please comment there using OpenID.
At the request of
athenaborozon:
Star Wars Prequels - Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi: Swelter, Spires, Becalmed, Shimmering, Ecstasy
Swelter
The hold of the little ship taking them to Hiraeu 3 was sweltering, kept warm and humid for the comfort of the usual cargo, not the occasional human passenger, but Obi-Wan had long since ceased to notice, attention firmly focused on the sight of his Master, Qui-Gon,, doing open-hand katas among the stasis-webbed greenery, wearing only a hip-wrap and gilded with sweat.
Spires
Aspire, respire, perspire, inspire, expire, conspire, suspire, transpire…. Obi-Wan plied his stylus doggedly, dutifully listing out words as the T’kharh high-caste youths were doing, isolate in the Spire of Learning; Qui-Gon had wanted him here, had allowed the T’khaian Proctor-of-Youths to object to Obi-Wan’s unbearded presence among the negotiators and bustle him off to this out of the way place, going with the Moment. There had been no mention of this in the briefing materials: what did Qui-Gon - no, what did the Force - want him here for? He would just have to keep his eyes open and see.
Becalmed
Sometimes, Obi-Wan thought as he looked out at the vast expanse of sand that was the Dune Sea, it was as if his small house was a ship becalmed, floating in a backwater, waiting for the storm wind that Anakin’s son could not but be at the center of; sometimes, he could sense that he was not alone, and over the years he had come to trust that the warmth that stood at his shoulder was indeed Qui-Gon, and that however the storm raged, the light would prevail.
Shimmering
Coruscant shimmered, a gem from orbital, a vivid map as the transport came closer, a world-city of spires and lights and life from any point one looked once landed; Qui-Gon looked down at his new padawan: the brilliance of his light was far more wondrous than anything the planet had to offer.
Ecstasy
Impatient, Obi-Wan took matters into his own hands and rolled Qui-Gon onto his back, straddling his hips and sinking down with exquisite deliberation, taking his rigid, weeping length in fully; Qui-Gon opened eyes hot with love and need as Obi-Wan leaned down to kiss him before setting up a rhythm that would soon see them both reach the peaks of ecstasy.
Read on AO3
At the request of
morgynleri:
Star Wars Prequels - Qui-Gon Jinn: Path, Truth, Choices, Heirloom, Hidden
Path
There was a faint path running through the trees, invisible but for the glimmer of starlight on pale stone here, an eddy of whispering grasses there - no disarray of scattered leaves, no heel or hoof-prints marked soft loam, no thread of cloth or hair-wisp fluttered, caught on twig or dagger-thorn, no sign but possibility visible to outer eyes or sense at all, yet to inner-sight, the very absence was a signal, and to Qui-Gon’s keen Force-sense the swift and fiercely joyous passage of the Aeirykith was clear as a ribbon of silver-green light, fled to freedom beyond the wood.
Truth
The path to truth for a Jedi was rife with choices - did one stay close to the Temple filled with all the artifacts and heirlooms of the Order’s long and storied history, a flame hidden amongst other flames, tending the gardens, teaching those who came, watching over them as they went to and fro on business of the Order, whim of the Senate, the Will of the Force; or did one embrace that outward and visible journey, seek knowledge among the many and diverse peoples of the universe, actively work to expand the harmony and beauty of the Living Force? For Qui-Gon, that choice had never been in question: light or dark, shadow or sunlight, going or staying, fighting or loving, speaking or listening - none of those were choices, binaries, exclusive one of the other, nor even incompatible divergences, however stark the contrast between them; no, in Master Qui-Gon’s truth there were few ‘ors’ but many ‘ands’ - the Living Force was his lodestone and inspiration, guide and sustenance, and in that vast and varied plenitude true opposites or antitheses were rare indeed: even life and death were not necessarily mutually exclusive, when looked at from a certain point of view.
Choices
Finis Valorum had met Qui-Gon Jinn at a time when both had a choice before them: in some ways the same choice, in others quite different; both had chosen service over study (though certainly one never stopped learning, growing in skill and knowledge, perception and understanding, were one the least advertent), both had chosen a kind of solitude, though that singleness had never precluded companionship or even intimacy, and throughout the lives shaped by those choices they'd maintained a connection nourishing both; now Citizen Valorum stood at his oldest friend's pyre, oddly feeling still not alone -- choice, chance, change continued.
Heirloom
The cup was an heirloom of the House, hand-raised from a single sheet of green-bronze to an intricate and graceful shape, inscribed with ancient symbols and set with gems of subtle color that catch the light and glimmer in the shadows, old, storied and with a mind of it’s own, defenses that rise at threat to those of the House, or to it’s own self - it has never been stolen but that the thief returned it directly, unharmed; Qui-Gon raised it in solemn toast to mark the signing of the alliance-compact, unsurprised to see the mead within glowing faintly green.
Hidden
When one has gone entirely into the Force, one is occult, hidden, unseen, except by those one chooses to be perceived by - chosen, and the effort made to shape oneself in form, clothe thought, will and feeling in a semblance to be seen, heard, in very rare circumstances touched, sensed directly in the solid world by those with eyes to see, ears to hear, and the trained skill to use them; ‘tis no light matter (though indeed it is of the Light) to hold oneself coherent and discrete within the Unifying Force, aphysical: within the Living Force, I yet live.
Read on AO3
Sanctuary - Will Zimmerman: Cheater, Dominant, Birthday, Razor, Wealth
Cheater
It seemed to Will that Nikola Tesla had, in one way or another, been cheating Death his entire life, but to call him a cheater - no, that he was not; deceptive, yes, particularly by omission, rarely by flat out lying, sly, oh most definitely, three steps ahead all too often, not to mention positively gleeful about how clever and inventive he was (just don’t ever mention Edison) , even disconcertingly selfless on occasion, for a very small number of people, but as long as you remembered that he actually meant the seemingly nonsensical things he said, a cheater he was not.
Dominant
The wonder of it was that ‘The Five’ as they called themselves had managed to do as much together as they had, thought Will, nearly all (he didn’t have enough information on Nigel to say, and the mere thought of extrapolating from Clara was painful, entirely aside from being less than useful) clearly such idiosyncratic and dominant personalities - not necessarily domineering, though there was little doubt each one could be, when they chose, when circumstances warranted - and yet firmly tied to each other; perhaps the wonder was that most of them had succeeded in making and maintaining connections beyond themselves.
Birthday
He’d been flipping almost idly through the calendar on Helen’s desk, waiting for her to finish her discussion with Declan about some delicate point of business (he’d heard ‘unexpected intricacy having to do with James’ estate’ and decided he did not want to know, thank you), noting that she kept scrupulous note of all her people’s birthdays (or namedays or other culturally or personally important marker-days, as well as significant dates Will had no context for); when he reached the nineteenth of November he felt an unexpected wrench of sorrow: he and James had shared a birthday, 120 years apart.
Razor
Will came upon the razor unexpectedly - old-fashioned, straight blade gleaming sharp, hinge and catch still oiled smooth, true-ivory handle inlaid with silver wire wound at collar and base, lying in a fitted case with strop and whetstone, beautiful and horrifying at once, sitting in a storeroom amidst a clutter of other anonymous objects; drawn, Will raised the glass lid, reaching for it; the grip small (too small for Druitt’s hand, and those wounds had all been the work of knives) and shivered: if the Ripper, Holmes and the Invisible Man were real, might not the Demon Barber also have been?
Wealth
Every once in a while, the sheer quantity of wealth Helen had would strike Will, startling him into seeing some new aspect of the astonishing world he had fallen headlong into; it wasn’t even the big things (after discovering that Helen owned a submarine, the planes and boats and even the wide net of influential and international connections were hardly a surprise), it was realizing that all the art was original, finding a bombe in the basement, paging through affectionately inscribed first editions lying about on end-tables - such a wealth of knowledge, understanding, love, and worth far more than money.
Read on AO3
This entry was originally posted at http://lferion.dreamwidth.org/220593.html, where there are currently
comments. Please comment there using OpenID.