[drabble] Suzerain
Challenge Name and Number: #053, Miracle
Drabble Title: Suzerain
Word Count: 497
Warnings (if applicable): None
Pairings (if applicable): Clovershipping (Noa x Kisara)
Summary: He can give her wings, but he will not show her where to fly.
Author’s Notes: Abstract, post-canon. The true miracle is that I actually got something written for this! xD
Suzerain
He stands on the edge of the tower’s window, staring down hundreds of feet to the ground. It’s morning, always morning, the time passing so slowly that it’s a wonder they’re both not crazy yet.
Kisara sits nearby in a chair of wicker, draped in white chiffon. A nice touch of the programming, he thinks, to fill their static, drab little world with such colors and textures. Restless, he jumps inside and walks past her, wondering if today she’ll speak to him again. She smells fresh and clean; they both do, it is impossible for a virtual construct to sweat. He knows that’s what he is, he knows his purpose and his definitions. He knows that when he awoke so long ago, hoping his data had been preserved somewhere, it was with her leaning over him, a shocked, almost hopeful look on her face. He knows he is trapped by the programming.
He made the mistake once of telling her he used to be a programmer. Then you can save us, she told him, you understand such things, you can build wings for us to fly on, as far away from here as we can!
It is useless! There is no escape! We are stuck! He had shouted at her then, and had hurled a lamp out the window to prove his point, watching it fall and sparkle into nothingness. And where would they fly? She made no secret about her knowledge of the ancient duel monsters and her lack of knowledge of anything contemporary. He made no secret that even if he could find a way out, he would do it for himself and not for her. He hates the way she looks at him for guidance, sometimes, so beseeching and dependent. If she were more like him they would not have these problems.
He sees snatches of code flash before his eyes when he blinks; she used to ask him to interpret. Instead she asks him with her eyes to take her with him, to let her follow him from their digital prison to another pocket on the server, working their way to some greater form of authenticity.
“I could fly, once,” she speaks up then, drawing her knees close together and looping her arms over both. “I was a dragon-if I wanted to, I could fly and never touch the earth.”
“I’ve never flown,” he admits. Not even on planes, and it’s not regret that fills him now, but anger. It is the perfect motivation, to acknowledge superiority in something he has never before done. He blinks rapidly, his eyes stinging, and studies the programming.
As what passes for nighttime falls over the sky, she wakes to see him standing on the edge of the tower’s window. He spreads his arms, and she watches as black feathers seem to sprout from his arms and he falls.
She smiles, then, and returns to sleep, searching for him in the data behind her closed eyes.
Drabble Title: Suzerain
Word Count: 497
Warnings (if applicable): None
Pairings (if applicable): Clovershipping (Noa x Kisara)
Summary: He can give her wings, but he will not show her where to fly.
Author’s Notes: Abstract, post-canon. The true miracle is that I actually got something written for this! xD
Suzerain
He stands on the edge of the tower’s window, staring down hundreds of feet to the ground. It’s morning, always morning, the time passing so slowly that it’s a wonder they’re both not crazy yet.
Kisara sits nearby in a chair of wicker, draped in white chiffon. A nice touch of the programming, he thinks, to fill their static, drab little world with such colors and textures. Restless, he jumps inside and walks past her, wondering if today she’ll speak to him again. She smells fresh and clean; they both do, it is impossible for a virtual construct to sweat. He knows that’s what he is, he knows his purpose and his definitions. He knows that when he awoke so long ago, hoping his data had been preserved somewhere, it was with her leaning over him, a shocked, almost hopeful look on her face. He knows he is trapped by the programming.
He made the mistake once of telling her he used to be a programmer. Then you can save us, she told him, you understand such things, you can build wings for us to fly on, as far away from here as we can!
It is useless! There is no escape! We are stuck! He had shouted at her then, and had hurled a lamp out the window to prove his point, watching it fall and sparkle into nothingness. And where would they fly? She made no secret about her knowledge of the ancient duel monsters and her lack of knowledge of anything contemporary. He made no secret that even if he could find a way out, he would do it for himself and not for her. He hates the way she looks at him for guidance, sometimes, so beseeching and dependent. If she were more like him they would not have these problems.
He sees snatches of code flash before his eyes when he blinks; she used to ask him to interpret. Instead she asks him with her eyes to take her with him, to let her follow him from their digital prison to another pocket on the server, working their way to some greater form of authenticity.
“I could fly, once,” she speaks up then, drawing her knees close together and looping her arms over both. “I was a dragon-if I wanted to, I could fly and never touch the earth.”
“I’ve never flown,” he admits. Not even on planes, and it’s not regret that fills him now, but anger. It is the perfect motivation, to acknowledge superiority in something he has never before done. He blinks rapidly, his eyes stinging, and studies the programming.
As what passes for nighttime falls over the sky, she wakes to see him standing on the edge of the tower’s window. He spreads his arms, and she watches as black feathers seem to sprout from his arms and he falls.
She smiles, then, and returns to sleep, searching for him in the data behind her closed eyes.