Fic: A Funeral Scene (Richard/Alex, Richard/Claire, LOST)
Title: A Funeral Scene
Fandom: LOST
Rating: 15
Word Count: 373
Warning: Dark subject matter
Characters: Richard-centric, Richard/Alex, Richard/Claire
Disclaimer: I own nuthin'!
Authors Note: No beta, all mistakes are my own! Written as a sequel to A Lovers Scene. It's been sat on my computer for a while because I feel like there is something missing I can't quite put my finger on. After sitting on it for about 6 months I've decided to post it, albeit it tentatively.
I hope you like. Remember comments are ♥
Summary: This is a funeral scene. It is an ending and a beginning.
Thick, blunt fingers curl against his palm; sticky and warm, the unmistakable metallic tang of her blood permeates the air. Dark eyebrows knit together above swollen eyes that dart to those treacherous hands only to find them clean and white knuckled as he clings to the torch.
She was as strong as steel wrapped in spider silk. Her flesh so soft and easily broken but her spirit, her spirit clings to life still. Fear traces a finger down his spine but he does not fear the tiny, broken body but her inner fire that clings around him like a second skin.
His lips part and he tastes salt as a single droplet of moisture runs from his top lip. Is it sweat or tears that run down his face?
Richard touches the torch to the wooden raft and the flames spring to life like a twisted parody of a childhood dance. A sob catches in his throat while a frayed and faded smile graces his lips.
She is consumed in fire but feels nothing. He is stood in the shallow water but he feels flames licking at his heels. He will pay.
The sweep of the lashes so many women want but rarely have is the only indication of the movement in his eyes as he watches himself disappear along with the her spider silk body.
This is a funeral scene. It is an ending and a beginning.
The scent of his skin as it warms in the morning heat stirs him on. The morning sun is warm and nurturing as he heads home. He feels a weight lift from him allowing his face to split into a genuine, contented smile. The glint of her spun gold hair lets him know he has arrived; he is home.
Kind, gentle arms wrap around him; welcoming him. Unblemished fingers stroke the fine hair at the base of his neck while her pink, ripe lips press against a cheek that is rough and weather beaten.
His thick, blunt fingers, with a gentleness that is surprising, stroke the rounded curve of the baby’s cheek. Its new blue eyes breathe life into dull, brown ones.
This is a funeral scene. It is an ending and a beginning.
Fandom: LOST
Rating: 15
Word Count: 373
Warning: Dark subject matter
Characters: Richard-centric, Richard/Alex, Richard/Claire
Disclaimer: I own nuthin'!
Authors Note: No beta, all mistakes are my own! Written as a sequel to A Lovers Scene. It's been sat on my computer for a while because I feel like there is something missing I can't quite put my finger on. After sitting on it for about 6 months I've decided to post it, albeit it tentatively.
I hope you like. Remember comments are ♥
Summary: This is a funeral scene. It is an ending and a beginning.
Thick, blunt fingers curl against his palm; sticky and warm, the unmistakable metallic tang of her blood permeates the air. Dark eyebrows knit together above swollen eyes that dart to those treacherous hands only to find them clean and white knuckled as he clings to the torch.
She was as strong as steel wrapped in spider silk. Her flesh so soft and easily broken but her spirit, her spirit clings to life still. Fear traces a finger down his spine but he does not fear the tiny, broken body but her inner fire that clings around him like a second skin.
His lips part and he tastes salt as a single droplet of moisture runs from his top lip. Is it sweat or tears that run down his face?
Richard touches the torch to the wooden raft and the flames spring to life like a twisted parody of a childhood dance. A sob catches in his throat while a frayed and faded smile graces his lips.
She is consumed in fire but feels nothing. He is stood in the shallow water but he feels flames licking at his heels. He will pay.
The sweep of the lashes so many women want but rarely have is the only indication of the movement in his eyes as he watches himself disappear along with the her spider silk body.
This is a funeral scene. It is an ending and a beginning.
The scent of his skin as it warms in the morning heat stirs him on. The morning sun is warm and nurturing as he heads home. He feels a weight lift from him allowing his face to split into a genuine, contented smile. The glint of her spun gold hair lets him know he has arrived; he is home.
Kind, gentle arms wrap around him; welcoming him. Unblemished fingers stroke the fine hair at the base of his neck while her pink, ripe lips press against a cheek that is rough and weather beaten.
His thick, blunt fingers, with a gentleness that is surprising, stroke the rounded curve of the baby’s cheek. Its new blue eyes breathe life into dull, brown ones.
This is a funeral scene. It is an ending and a beginning.