[✐fanfic] yugioh: last words
So I have touzoku_kakumei now! And she's the best thing ever and I love her AU and her attitude and especially her Diabound who sometimes takes on the guise of an AU she-Ryou. I don't know how much headway I'll make on any of my challenges anymore in part because of RL being a pain and in part because I love these girls so much I just want to write their lives and everyone's lives their AU in ridiculous quirky detail. ;A;
Anyway, I'm in a prompts comm for her! Here's a crappy melodramatic fic!
Whether it is lightning, static, the kind between two people or the kind that lives inside your wall, give us a short short on electricity.
The execution would not be a public matter. The officer had decided to see to that. Let him be expelled from the Pharaoh's service, let him receive punishment from the stick like a common criminal, the common criminals he'd dedicated his life to eliminating. He was prepared, unlike the men he'd rounded up for a living, to face the consequences of his actions.
But like the men he'd grown so adept at snaring, he'd finally discovered something more important than the law.
The monkey the officer kept on a leash bit and snapped at its harness, more unruly than the prisoner marching out into the desert at its insistence. It didn't like this, didn't like being taken from its pen and dragged along: but the officer needed the animal to ensure his human on a leash behaved. Or so he'd thought, but the young woman he led before him seemed resigned, almost willing. Dull, implacable. A far cry from the whirlwind it'd taken the entire company to subdue.
Learned her lesson, perhaps, the officer mused. Or else, just making her peace with the fate her actions had allotted her. Even if anyone prayed for her, wrote the magical assertions against crimes to blot away her sins, the officer doubted this criminal would pass Ammut's jaws unscathed. Whose heart would weigh equal to Ma'at's feather when she'd denounced the very name of Ma'at itself?
The sun peeked over the horizon as the town faded from sight; the officer brought his stick down across the young woman's back, perhaps a bit harder than necessary, to get her attention. "Stop here," he ordered; she stumbled, but obeyed, head hung low, a mess of shockingly light hair obscuring her face.
"Doin' this personally, huh?" she drawled through loose lips, sounding almost disinterested; the officer almost struck her again, but refrained. "So you figured it out."
"She was happy with me," the officer replied, almost against his will; his fist clenched around his stick, his instrument of the law, and he reminded himself this criminal, this thief, who believed everything she lay her eyes on was hers for the taking, excelled at forcing her opponents to make the first move. "She would not have gone with you willingly."
The thief spat on the ground - or rather, simply opened her lips and dropped some spittle out. Sluggish, the officer wondered - distracted? The promise of death would do that, he supposed.
"It wasn't personal," the thief mumbled. "And last I checked, no law against making a lady happy--"
The officer's stick caught her between the shoulderblades and she gasped, staggered; the monkey lunged forward and the officer risked receiving a bite himself to rein it in. What did this thief know of anything? Of coming home to find his wife distressed, his children crying, yet the look on his beloved's face so strangely distant? Guilty - she'd looked guilty, so confused, his beautiful, serene beloved, usually so certain of herself. Even she hadn't exactly understood what had happened, hadn't imagined it possible, and certainly not from a woman --
His coworkers might have laughed, had they known. Was he not man enough to satisfy his wife, that she needed another woman for comfort and guidance? How could such a thing be, however - how could a woman, of all people, entice his wife, offer her all the things the officer knew he'd never been able to offer…burial riches, his home had been stained...
By his wife, in the gold of a queen. For scarce minutes spent with a woman who'd yelled obscenities in the face of the law. His wife had submitted to the offer. He, as her protector, had failed.
But he would see justice done.
"Kneel", the officer ordered the woman, who shrugged and did as she was told. The officer freed the monkey, drawing his sword with both hands; he had never attempted a decapitation before, didn't know if his weapon would be keen enough for it. But that was all right, he reasoned. The longer it took, in some ways, the better.
The monkey chattered, darting uncertainly back and forth, but chose freedom over attacking and scampered away. Another loss the police would suffer at this officer's hands. But he was prepared for the consequences. He would very likely lose everything he had, for this trespass - yet to let another man claim his right would cost him far more.
"Last words, thief?" he asked the woman, fingers adjusting on the hilt of his sword. This would be a clumsy execution, indeed. He hadn't thought this through enough. But, as long as he could forget the look on his wife's face - as long as this woman's face hit the ground, bloodied and silent ---
The thief's shoulders shook in a shrug - but then the officer realized it was more than that. The thief was laughing.
"Last words, eh?" The thief sighed, chuckling, and the officer fought a chilled feeling spreading across his own back, a stabbing of concern at his own gut. She's done this before, he realized suddenly: the dullness dampening her every step, her movements up to this point, hadn't been exhaustion.
The thief had been bored. She'd been following a script long learned by rote. A script she, master entertainer, had devised herself years ago…
The officer started forward to finish the matter as quickly as possible, but the thief fixed him suddenly with her eyes and he froze on the spot. Her face, seeing his fear - and it was fear, he realized with shame, the officer was afraid of a thief bound and prostrate on the ground, of a woman - split into a viper's grin.
"My last words, huh?" she repeated lightly; the officer heard the monkey yelp, somewhere in the dunes, then fall suddenly silent. "Speak for yourself."
The ground erupted; lightning lanced across the officer's stomach and he gasped, clutched his middle, toppled: his torso before his legs, separate, split, sprawling on the ground. As his eyes rolled forward he caught sight of the same flashing, white lightning -- no, a figure - a -- a…
The thief was standing now, freed; the lightning had vanished, sucked down into the ground like some hideous inversion of thunderbolts dropping from the sky. The day was breaking, but the officer's sight grew dim: yet still he focused, still he trained all his energy on the hateful woman before him. He would -- he had -- he'd brought her all this way out here, given up everything, just to...
"I warned you, didn't I?" the woman asked; the officer blinked up, blearily, barely comprehending over the haze of pain, over the terror of feeling his life leaking away. "Here's the value of your justice."
Raising her foot, the thief brought it down on the officer's head with all her might; he grunted, felt another crack of lightning through his skull, heard the harsh grunt of her exertion, and then the world grew silent and black.
And the thief, now joined by a small girl with hair even paler than her own, a girl picking brown fur out from between her teeth, scooped up the officer's sword, shrugged again, and continued out across the desert. The day had dawned, and soon it would grow too hot for travel. The two of them still had a ways to go.
Anyway, I'm in a prompts comm for her! Here's a crappy melodramatic fic!
Whether it is lightning, static, the kind between two people or the kind that lives inside your wall, give us a short short on electricity.
The execution would not be a public matter. The officer had decided to see to that. Let him be expelled from the Pharaoh's service, let him receive punishment from the stick like a common criminal, the common criminals he'd dedicated his life to eliminating. He was prepared, unlike the men he'd rounded up for a living, to face the consequences of his actions.
But like the men he'd grown so adept at snaring, he'd finally discovered something more important than the law.
The monkey the officer kept on a leash bit and snapped at its harness, more unruly than the prisoner marching out into the desert at its insistence. It didn't like this, didn't like being taken from its pen and dragged along: but the officer needed the animal to ensure his human on a leash behaved. Or so he'd thought, but the young woman he led before him seemed resigned, almost willing. Dull, implacable. A far cry from the whirlwind it'd taken the entire company to subdue.
Learned her lesson, perhaps, the officer mused. Or else, just making her peace with the fate her actions had allotted her. Even if anyone prayed for her, wrote the magical assertions against crimes to blot away her sins, the officer doubted this criminal would pass Ammut's jaws unscathed. Whose heart would weigh equal to Ma'at's feather when she'd denounced the very name of Ma'at itself?
The sun peeked over the horizon as the town faded from sight; the officer brought his stick down across the young woman's back, perhaps a bit harder than necessary, to get her attention. "Stop here," he ordered; she stumbled, but obeyed, head hung low, a mess of shockingly light hair obscuring her face.
"Doin' this personally, huh?" she drawled through loose lips, sounding almost disinterested; the officer almost struck her again, but refrained. "So you figured it out."
"She was happy with me," the officer replied, almost against his will; his fist clenched around his stick, his instrument of the law, and he reminded himself this criminal, this thief, who believed everything she lay her eyes on was hers for the taking, excelled at forcing her opponents to make the first move. "She would not have gone with you willingly."
The thief spat on the ground - or rather, simply opened her lips and dropped some spittle out. Sluggish, the officer wondered - distracted? The promise of death would do that, he supposed.
"It wasn't personal," the thief mumbled. "And last I checked, no law against making a lady happy--"
The officer's stick caught her between the shoulderblades and she gasped, staggered; the monkey lunged forward and the officer risked receiving a bite himself to rein it in. What did this thief know of anything? Of coming home to find his wife distressed, his children crying, yet the look on his beloved's face so strangely distant? Guilty - she'd looked guilty, so confused, his beautiful, serene beloved, usually so certain of herself. Even she hadn't exactly understood what had happened, hadn't imagined it possible, and certainly not from a woman --
His coworkers might have laughed, had they known. Was he not man enough to satisfy his wife, that she needed another woman for comfort and guidance? How could such a thing be, however - how could a woman, of all people, entice his wife, offer her all the things the officer knew he'd never been able to offer…burial riches, his home had been stained...
By his wife, in the gold of a queen. For scarce minutes spent with a woman who'd yelled obscenities in the face of the law. His wife had submitted to the offer. He, as her protector, had failed.
But he would see justice done.
"Kneel", the officer ordered the woman, who shrugged and did as she was told. The officer freed the monkey, drawing his sword with both hands; he had never attempted a decapitation before, didn't know if his weapon would be keen enough for it. But that was all right, he reasoned. The longer it took, in some ways, the better.
The monkey chattered, darting uncertainly back and forth, but chose freedom over attacking and scampered away. Another loss the police would suffer at this officer's hands. But he was prepared for the consequences. He would very likely lose everything he had, for this trespass - yet to let another man claim his right would cost him far more.
"Last words, thief?" he asked the woman, fingers adjusting on the hilt of his sword. This would be a clumsy execution, indeed. He hadn't thought this through enough. But, as long as he could forget the look on his wife's face - as long as this woman's face hit the ground, bloodied and silent ---
The thief's shoulders shook in a shrug - but then the officer realized it was more than that. The thief was laughing.
"Last words, eh?" The thief sighed, chuckling, and the officer fought a chilled feeling spreading across his own back, a stabbing of concern at his own gut. She's done this before, he realized suddenly: the dullness dampening her every step, her movements up to this point, hadn't been exhaustion.
The thief had been bored. She'd been following a script long learned by rote. A script she, master entertainer, had devised herself years ago…
The officer started forward to finish the matter as quickly as possible, but the thief fixed him suddenly with her eyes and he froze on the spot. Her face, seeing his fear - and it was fear, he realized with shame, the officer was afraid of a thief bound and prostrate on the ground, of a woman - split into a viper's grin.
"My last words, huh?" she repeated lightly; the officer heard the monkey yelp, somewhere in the dunes, then fall suddenly silent. "Speak for yourself."
The ground erupted; lightning lanced across the officer's stomach and he gasped, clutched his middle, toppled: his torso before his legs, separate, split, sprawling on the ground. As his eyes rolled forward he caught sight of the same flashing, white lightning -- no, a figure - a -- a…
The thief was standing now, freed; the lightning had vanished, sucked down into the ground like some hideous inversion of thunderbolts dropping from the sky. The day was breaking, but the officer's sight grew dim: yet still he focused, still he trained all his energy on the hateful woman before him. He would -- he had -- he'd brought her all this way out here, given up everything, just to...
"I warned you, didn't I?" the woman asked; the officer blinked up, blearily, barely comprehending over the haze of pain, over the terror of feeling his life leaking away. "Here's the value of your justice."
Raising her foot, the thief brought it down on the officer's head with all her might; he grunted, felt another crack of lightning through his skull, heard the harsh grunt of her exertion, and then the world grew silent and black.
And the thief, now joined by a small girl with hair even paler than her own, a girl picking brown fur out from between her teeth, scooped up the officer's sword, shrugged again, and continued out across the desert. The day had dawned, and soon it would grow too hot for travel. The two of them still had a ways to go.