OOC: Drabbles
Thingie One: Vimes-mun should never be allowed to stay up until six in the morning writing drabbles. They tend to be depressing and confusing.
Thingie Two: Probably not canon.
Thingie Three: Can't think of anything right now. Bed.
Drabbles:
At home, Vimes dreams of endless staircases, of rocking horses and baa-lambs, of empty nurseries and empty houses and empty streets. He dreams of blood soaked floorboards and patterned carpets burning into his skull, memory refusing to let go of life.
His dreams do not change in camp. Rather, they evolve. Instead of nurseries, an empty lab, light flickering overhead in a dull buzz; an empty mess hall, watchhouse, hospital. The sky is red, the lake is green and zombies shuffle in the twilight but he cannot even shout over their moans. The ground turns to soft mud beneath his boots and sucks him in and he falls, down into a pit of grasping hands and melted faces.
He runs, as only a copper can, as only a man running for his life can. He runs to safety, throws open the door to his sanctuary, his watchhouse. And screams and screams and screams until his voice is raw.
He wakes, still screaming. Rolls over and muffles his mouth and twists into a tight ball, hot tears running in shameful rivers and he prays to any deity that will listen that Robin will not wake and come and find Vimes weeping like a child.
Vimes is old. He knows this. He watches Robin perform flips that make his back ache, and sees Roslyn run from one end of the camp to the other without pausing for breath. He is well aware that Kieran could lay him out in one punch and he’d be down for the count. Yozak may be older than he is, but he is youthful and strong, and will be long after Vimes’ bones turn to dust. He feels oldest standing next to the children - bright Ronan, sweet Violet, cheerful Robin, mischievous Setsuna, even Livio, who seems more child than man in his big body; they have their whole lives ahead of him. Vimes is simply waiting for the right time to slip into the grave. He wonders if Death will make an exception in this place, and let him die permanently. He wonders who will look after the watchhouse when he’s gone, who’ll put the kettle on for people when they drop in looking for a little peace away from camp and some quiet company. Who will feed the dragons and make sure Kieran keeps his feet off the table when he comes to visit.
He wonders all this, sitting on his knees in the grass as he inspects a strange man’s box in the light of the setting sun. He is suspicious, even now, like an old dog that has lost its teeth but not its cunning, and he questions the smiling man before him, painted smile and all. But it is only when he demands to see the scales, balancing on the finger of the painted man, that he looks up and stares at eyes older than him, so much older. They are filled with secrets and laughter and danger and an almost invitation, as ageless as night and formless as smoke.
Sam feels young.
Vimes says he sleeps during the day because he spent 30 years working nights. And despite the fact that he is married, he isn’t about to change. Old habits die hard, he says.
This is a lie.
Vimes can sleep at night. He can sleep curled up against his wife, knowing his family is safe and that his men are, if not kicking ass, then at least prodding buttock, and it can probably wait until morning, because really, he’s old and needs sleep.
Vimes cannot sleep at night. He tangles up the sheets and shifts restlessly and moans and wakes up in a cold sweat, because there are some things even coppers shouldn’t have to face in their dreams.
Vimes sleeps during the day because it’s quieter in the labs. Robin is generally out training, and the other occupants have learned not to make any loud noises from 7am until 3 in the afternoon, on account that Vimes is very grumpy when he’s woken up before then, and a grumpy Vimes likes to spread the misery around with a shovel. So while they grumble, most of them go up topside and walk around for a while, or retreat further down into the labs.
Vimes sleeps during the day because at least if he has one of his many many nightmares, like the one where he finds Violet cut in half by a scythe (Kieran didn’t make it in time, Vimes didn’t make it in time,), or Robin bleeding to death (a knife wound, oh gods why won’t the blood stop?) or Kieran and Yozak smiling death grins as they hang from the rafters, tongues and eyes protruding grotesquely as someone (it changes, sometimes Vetinari, sometimes that strange Asian man who only recently arrived and smiled like a knife) sits serenely between them and laughs at Vimes’ as he rages, at least if he has them no one will hear him scream.
... I'll edit them in the morning.
Thingie Two: Probably not canon.
Thingie Three: Can't think of anything right now. Bed.
Drabbles:
At home, Vimes dreams of endless staircases, of rocking horses and baa-lambs, of empty nurseries and empty houses and empty streets. He dreams of blood soaked floorboards and patterned carpets burning into his skull, memory refusing to let go of life.
His dreams do not change in camp. Rather, they evolve. Instead of nurseries, an empty lab, light flickering overhead in a dull buzz; an empty mess hall, watchhouse, hospital. The sky is red, the lake is green and zombies shuffle in the twilight but he cannot even shout over their moans. The ground turns to soft mud beneath his boots and sucks him in and he falls, down into a pit of grasping hands and melted faces.
He runs, as only a copper can, as only a man running for his life can. He runs to safety, throws open the door to his sanctuary, his watchhouse. And screams and screams and screams until his voice is raw.
He wakes, still screaming. Rolls over and muffles his mouth and twists into a tight ball, hot tears running in shameful rivers and he prays to any deity that will listen that Robin will not wake and come and find Vimes weeping like a child.
Vimes is old. He knows this. He watches Robin perform flips that make his back ache, and sees Roslyn run from one end of the camp to the other without pausing for breath. He is well aware that Kieran could lay him out in one punch and he’d be down for the count. Yozak may be older than he is, but he is youthful and strong, and will be long after Vimes’ bones turn to dust. He feels oldest standing next to the children - bright Ronan, sweet Violet, cheerful Robin, mischievous Setsuna, even Livio, who seems more child than man in his big body; they have their whole lives ahead of him. Vimes is simply waiting for the right time to slip into the grave. He wonders if Death will make an exception in this place, and let him die permanently. He wonders who will look after the watchhouse when he’s gone, who’ll put the kettle on for people when they drop in looking for a little peace away from camp and some quiet company. Who will feed the dragons and make sure Kieran keeps his feet off the table when he comes to visit.
He wonders all this, sitting on his knees in the grass as he inspects a strange man’s box in the light of the setting sun. He is suspicious, even now, like an old dog that has lost its teeth but not its cunning, and he questions the smiling man before him, painted smile and all. But it is only when he demands to see the scales, balancing on the finger of the painted man, that he looks up and stares at eyes older than him, so much older. They are filled with secrets and laughter and danger and an almost invitation, as ageless as night and formless as smoke.
Sam feels young.
Vimes says he sleeps during the day because he spent 30 years working nights. And despite the fact that he is married, he isn’t about to change. Old habits die hard, he says.
This is a lie.
Vimes can sleep at night. He can sleep curled up against his wife, knowing his family is safe and that his men are, if not kicking ass, then at least prodding buttock, and it can probably wait until morning, because really, he’s old and needs sleep.
Vimes cannot sleep at night. He tangles up the sheets and shifts restlessly and moans and wakes up in a cold sweat, because there are some things even coppers shouldn’t have to face in their dreams.
Vimes sleeps during the day because it’s quieter in the labs. Robin is generally out training, and the other occupants have learned not to make any loud noises from 7am until 3 in the afternoon, on account that Vimes is very grumpy when he’s woken up before then, and a grumpy Vimes likes to spread the misery around with a shovel. So while they grumble, most of them go up topside and walk around for a while, or retreat further down into the labs.
Vimes sleeps during the day because at least if he has one of his many many nightmares, like the one where he finds Violet cut in half by a scythe (Kieran didn’t make it in time, Vimes didn’t make it in time,), or Robin bleeding to death (a knife wound, oh gods why won’t the blood stop?) or Kieran and Yozak smiling death grins as they hang from the rafters, tongues and eyes protruding grotesquely as someone (it changes, sometimes Vetinari, sometimes that strange Asian man who only recently arrived and smiled like a knife) sits serenely between them and laughs at Vimes’ as he rages, at least if he has them no one will hear him scream.
... I'll edit them in the morning.