Fic: Purpose (S&S)
Two S&S ficlets coming up (forgive the slight spammage) - they've been sitting around for a while, lacking only titles, which was silly.
Title: Purpose
Author: lost_spook
Rating: All ages
Word Count: 405
Characters/Pairings: Jet, Steel
Warnings None. Pre-canon.
Summary: She is aware of darkness and of threads of light running through it…
Prompt 3: jet - Amnesia & Chromatic recasting (The second half of the prompt being redundant; take that, random generator.)
***
She is aware of darkness and of threads of light running through it. They mean something - she is following them and absorbing sensations - information - along the way. She feels the space around her shifting between warmth and cold and she hears snatches of sound. It’s not quite music, but there’s a pattern in it.
Where she is, she doesn’t know; she is lost inside something, but a clear sense of purpose remains though everything else has left her. She follows the thread and pays attention to the patterns, because the other thing she knows is this: lurking within them is something malign and other that she must ward away.
She reaches inside herself to draw on all she has. She has strength that surprises her: metal and wood and more besides. She hunts down that pattern, that sound - it’s an instrument, though it’s only random notes and not a tune she hears. As it goes on, it’s opening up a way in for something that screams in her mind and wants only to devour.
That’s what she’s doing here, she knows now. She’s standing between it and its path out into the world - and there’s something else, a supporting strength beyond her. She is enough (they are enough); she is sure of that. She lets herself expand out, the power of her mind, of herself silencing the notes and the screeches.
She stands against such malignant forces, she always has. She is many things: hard mineral and softer organic matter; black as night and warm as the daylight. She owns beauty, power, sorrow; she is all this by turns and more.
“Jet,” she says, finding her full self again and she smiles. Then she blinks and reality reasserts itself around her: she is standing in an empty village hall. Empty, that is, but for Jet and the man who is holding onto her shoulders, grounding her here.
Steel.
All he says, however, is: “It’s done?”
Jet moves away from him and looks down at the violin she’s holding. It’s empty of the disturbance she had tracked to its source. It’s now no more or less than it should be. “Yes. Of course. What did you expect?”
She puts the instrument down and runs her long fingers over it one last time. She remembers how she felt chasing down its hidden darkness and smiles again to herself. Yes, she is all those things; she is Jet.
***
Crossposted from Dreamwidth -- Comments there:
Title: Purpose
Author: lost_spook
Rating: All ages
Word Count: 405
Characters/Pairings: Jet, Steel
Warnings None. Pre-canon.
Summary: She is aware of darkness and of threads of light running through it…
Prompt 3: jet - Amnesia & Chromatic recasting (The second half of the prompt being redundant; take that, random generator.)
***
She is aware of darkness and of threads of light running through it. They mean something - she is following them and absorbing sensations - information - along the way. She feels the space around her shifting between warmth and cold and she hears snatches of sound. It’s not quite music, but there’s a pattern in it.
Where she is, she doesn’t know; she is lost inside something, but a clear sense of purpose remains though everything else has left her. She follows the thread and pays attention to the patterns, because the other thing she knows is this: lurking within them is something malign and other that she must ward away.
She reaches inside herself to draw on all she has. She has strength that surprises her: metal and wood and more besides. She hunts down that pattern, that sound - it’s an instrument, though it’s only random notes and not a tune she hears. As it goes on, it’s opening up a way in for something that screams in her mind and wants only to devour.
That’s what she’s doing here, she knows now. She’s standing between it and its path out into the world - and there’s something else, a supporting strength beyond her. She is enough (they are enough); she is sure of that. She lets herself expand out, the power of her mind, of herself silencing the notes and the screeches.
She stands against such malignant forces, she always has. She is many things: hard mineral and softer organic matter; black as night and warm as the daylight. She owns beauty, power, sorrow; she is all this by turns and more.
“Jet,” she says, finding her full self again and she smiles. Then she blinks and reality reasserts itself around her: she is standing in an empty village hall. Empty, that is, but for Jet and the man who is holding onto her shoulders, grounding her here.
Steel.
All he says, however, is: “It’s done?”
Jet moves away from him and looks down at the violin she’s holding. It’s empty of the disturbance she had tracked to its source. It’s now no more or less than it should be. “Yes. Of course. What did you expect?”
She puts the instrument down and runs her long fingers over it one last time. She remembers how she felt chasing down its hidden darkness and smiles again to herself. Yes, she is all those things; she is Jet.
***
Crossposted from Dreamwidth -- Comments there: