Fic - "Like A Stone"
Title: Like A Stone
Author: skybound2
Characters: Kolyat and Thane
Word Count: 500
Rating: K
Summary: A young Kolyat comes across one of his father's weapons.
Author's Note: Just a short character introspective piece told from Kolyat's POV when he was a child. Not sure where this came from. Title from the song of the same name by Audioslave. Fic can also be found on FFN and Ao3.
Like A Stone
The metal is warm, and heavy, against his palm. The weight is balanced, but hard to manage with his small fingers, and he nearly drops it before he can adjust his grip low enough to hold it between his two youth-sized hands.
It feels... different. Foreign. But powerful as well; and that is an emotion he is unaccustomed to experiencing. So often relegated to the role of observer. Child.
He imagines what it would be like to fire, to feel the kick-back throw his body backwards, and slides his fingers down along the column of the gun, until one has settled on the trigger - careful to keep from pressing down.
A tingle works its way up from the soles of his feet, along the lines of his legs and back, and ends in a shiver that causes his shoulders to shake. The effect is amplified by the rumble of his father's voice speaking his name from beyond the walls of the room.
He freezes in place as the door to his father's store room is pushed open. Running would be useless, as there is no other exit. It's his own fault for not locking the door behind him, and he will have to pay penance for that.
"Kolyat, what -" His father's voice cuts off, whatever question he was going to voice forgotten as dark eyes lock on the weapon in Kolyat's hand.
Three even paces bring his father to his side. Five seconds pass before the gun is gently tugged from his grip and into his father's. Ten beats of his heart fill the silence as his father returns the weapon to its normal resting place.
"Kolyat..." He waits, breath stilted, for his reprimand. Curious as to what his father will say, what he will do. A thin tendril of thrill weaves its way around him at the thought of being scolded. Punished.
He waits, but it does not come. Instead, a heavy hand lays itself upon his shoulder, warmth radiating out through the cloth of his shirt. His father's voice is even, cool as morning mist, as he tells him that dinner is ready. With a gentle squeeze he releases Kolyat from his grip. "Go. Your mother is waiting."
He watches as his father turns from him and towards the shelves that fill the wall, the line of his back relaxed. Any evidence of agitation, of anger at his son's actions, seemingly absent from his stance. Kolyat knows that his father will not mention the incident again.
Kolyat tells himself that he is thankful, happy to have escaped a lecture, or worse. But it is disappointment that sinks in him like a stone. The urge to shake his father's unflappable demeanor, to coax any kind of emotional response - negative or otherwise - from him, is strong.
As he exits the room - barely registering his father's quick exhale of breath, and the sound of a lock clicking into place - he wonders just what it would take.
~End