Wee little GO fic
Title: Driven
Rating: PG for mild suggestiveness and mild (very mild) violence
Genre: Angst/Romance
Characters/Pairing: War/Famine
Length: 498
Summary: War is driven ultimately by passion
Author’s Notes: My first GO fic. I've no idea what possessed me to write this, but once I had the idea I had to. Completely and utterly un-beta’d, so feel free to criticize. Comments are love.
***
No war is ever waged on the foundation of bloodlust alone. There are always very strong, very real feelings in the motivations. People go to war out of a strong hate for another country or a strong love of their own. People go to war out of a compassion for the suffering of others or a love of making another group suffer. People go to war for defense, for revenge, for hate and love, and in short… war is driven ultimately by passion.
The same must be therefore said of the sleek-figured redhead currently seated at the counter of the seedy biker café. She is seductively beautiful and yet ancient and deadly. She is what she is. Therefore, being what she is, she is vicious, cruel, indiscriminating in her cruelty… and passionate. Amongst her colleagues she is alone in this. She is the only one who really feels.
She smiles when she sees the cold familiar face come to join her and she smiles. She, too, begins to starve with his very presence; only, she starves for him. The greeting and the conversation is all too formal, too down-to-business for her liking. It’s been almost a hundred years since they last met; she doesn’t want to make small talk about the job, she wants to throw herself at him. It’s only her nature to be so driven.
It’s his nature to be empty, though. He may smile and he may speak like he’s pleased to see her. She knows better. She knows there’s nothing behind it, nothing at all. She would torch a thousand cities just to make him know how much she cares*. They were only made to do their jobs, though, and she hates the depth of feeling of her nature. If she could give it up or trade it away, she would without hesitation. She wishes she was as apathetic as people think she is. She’s apathetic towards the mortals, she knows they’re doomed in the end, their lives mean nothing to her. She feels strongly for the one just as ancient as she, the one who has been there all along and didn’t intimidate her but felt truly equal.
*And she would torch another thousand cities just to cheer her up if he didn’t reciprocate.
She knows better, knows that he will never feel for her the way she feels for him, solely because he does not feel at all. The boy shows up now, pale and eager eyed. The one in black leaves her side, leaves her alone, and orders up some fresh tea for the lot of them. Choking down the last of her first cup, she swallows up her feelings with it. It’s time to be cold and merciless like she’s supposed to be. It won’t be long now. The end is coming and when it does, maybe she can finally take out these pent up emotions on the unsuspecting world. At least she’s got something burning inside to drive her.
Rating: PG for mild suggestiveness and mild (very mild) violence
Genre: Angst/Romance
Characters/Pairing: War/Famine
Length: 498
Summary: War is driven ultimately by passion
Author’s Notes: My first GO fic. I've no idea what possessed me to write this, but once I had the idea I had to. Completely and utterly un-beta’d, so feel free to criticize. Comments are love.
***
No war is ever waged on the foundation of bloodlust alone. There are always very strong, very real feelings in the motivations. People go to war out of a strong hate for another country or a strong love of their own. People go to war out of a compassion for the suffering of others or a love of making another group suffer. People go to war for defense, for revenge, for hate and love, and in short… war is driven ultimately by passion.
The same must be therefore said of the sleek-figured redhead currently seated at the counter of the seedy biker café. She is seductively beautiful and yet ancient and deadly. She is what she is. Therefore, being what she is, she is vicious, cruel, indiscriminating in her cruelty… and passionate. Amongst her colleagues she is alone in this. She is the only one who really feels.
She smiles when she sees the cold familiar face come to join her and she smiles. She, too, begins to starve with his very presence; only, she starves for him. The greeting and the conversation is all too formal, too down-to-business for her liking. It’s been almost a hundred years since they last met; she doesn’t want to make small talk about the job, she wants to throw herself at him. It’s only her nature to be so driven.
It’s his nature to be empty, though. He may smile and he may speak like he’s pleased to see her. She knows better. She knows there’s nothing behind it, nothing at all. She would torch a thousand cities just to make him know how much she cares*. They were only made to do their jobs, though, and she hates the depth of feeling of her nature. If she could give it up or trade it away, she would without hesitation. She wishes she was as apathetic as people think she is. She’s apathetic towards the mortals, she knows they’re doomed in the end, their lives mean nothing to her. She feels strongly for the one just as ancient as she, the one who has been there all along and didn’t intimidate her but felt truly equal.
*And she would torch another thousand cities just to cheer her up if he didn’t reciprocate.
She knows better, knows that he will never feel for her the way she feels for him, solely because he does not feel at all. The boy shows up now, pale and eager eyed. The one in black leaves her side, leaves her alone, and orders up some fresh tea for the lot of them. Choking down the last of her first cup, she swallows up her feelings with it. It’s time to be cold and merciless like she’s supposed to be. It won’t be long now. The end is coming and when it does, maybe she can finally take out these pent up emotions on the unsuspecting world. At least she’s got something burning inside to drive her.