031 epic kara/leoben fate fic!!!! 4/7
Title: The Trumpet Child
Fandoms: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Words: 695
Pairing: Kara/Leoben (and like thismuch Kara/Lee. Thismuch.)
Rating: ... More like a strong PG-13. God, why have I been failing so hard at the smut?
Summary: Written for bsg_pornbattle; prompt was 'ancestors.' Which... I'm pretty sure was my prompt. Lol. Not in the spirit of the battle. ESPECIALLY CAUSE THERE IS LIKE .5% PORN. JEEZ.
Some doubt him. The distrust is raw- at best, they think him mad, at worst, a saboteur of their futures. The doubters think that his prophecies are self-fulfilling, that he deludes himself into believing and in doing so causes his visions to come true. In his darkest hours, he is not sure that they are wrong. But the steel of faith is tempered in the fires of doubt, and he always returns from them a stronger man and knows the truth before it glimpses the light of day.
He sees it before it happens.
Kara stands on the floorboards of a weatherworn, bowing porch, her arms crossed thoughtfully as the wind musses her white-golden hair. She watches a boy play off in the field that sprawls in front of the small house. The child chases a bullfrog that kicks and jumps higher than his head. He shrieks and falls back, and breaks into laughter. It is the beautiful mystery of life.
He knows more than this. In his dream, his vision, his projection, his augury, Kara allows Lee Adama to take her hand and help her off of the Raptor. She looks around at the simple beauty of the planet, and he has his eyes fixed on the sky from which they have just descended. Their eyes meet and the look they exchange is wistful but resolved, one full of inexpressibly artful sadness. Kara’s hand slips to press against the side of her stomach, round with promises and possibilities. Inside, the person-to-be stirs and kicks.
That day is a long way off. Details are still hazy. A few words are exchanged, and Leoben cannot quite hear them, but he will. God will make all things clear to him.
“What’s my destiny, you frakker,” Kara says the words as if they are distasteful to her. Leoben knows she has only disdain for the prophetic visions he receives, but it is not his purpose to cull a flock of the faithful, but merely shepherd souls to their written ends.
He looks at her sagely, his blood singing loudly in his ears. “You are the harbinger of death, Kara Thrace.” She hits him- she considers his a non-answer, and it frustrates her. For that he is sorry, but he welcomes the blow because it feels more real than the dozens of times he has seen this in his mind. He tells her the future when he knows that she will not listen. “Life and death are strange but common bedfellows, Kara.”
Kara’s son grows into a man. He has children, and they have children, and those children have children. Tens of thousands of years pass. The son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son (and so on; even Leoben’s fathomless mind cannot count the generations) of Kara’s son splits an atom in a laboratory.
She takes a Raptor on an illicit trip to the Baseship, likely having requisitioned it for any purpose but this. Leoben chooses to meet her when she disembarks her transport. He moves to speak, offer some platitude neither needs. Kara does not want that, and she grabs him by the collar, pins him against the wall. He is not frightened, for each finds their way to God through a different path. “It’s not mine, do you hear me? That frakking shit, it’s not on my head, it’s not my destiny. Frak.”
He is sympathetic, but cannot breathe. She is so close. Leoben reaches up and places his hand on the side of her face. Her face is full of fury and agonized questions. She hopes for answers that no one can give her, and so she has come to him. A seeker, a pilgrim. He loves her more now than he ever has.
In an instant, she slaps his hand away and kisses him. Her mouth covers his, and he turns their bodies without hesitation. Her hips press up, drawing her body away from the wall and towards his. He grips her thigh, presses his wide palm against her round breast. Their union is blessed by God. He is kind to the arbiters of his Plans.
Fandoms: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Words: 695
Pairing: Kara/Leoben (and like thismuch Kara/Lee. Thismuch.)
Rating: ... More like a strong PG-13. God, why have I been failing so hard at the smut?
Summary: Written for bsg_pornbattle; prompt was 'ancestors.' Which... I'm pretty sure was my prompt. Lol. Not in the spirit of the battle. ESPECIALLY CAUSE THERE IS LIKE .5% PORN. JEEZ.
Some doubt him. The distrust is raw- at best, they think him mad, at worst, a saboteur of their futures. The doubters think that his prophecies are self-fulfilling, that he deludes himself into believing and in doing so causes his visions to come true. In his darkest hours, he is not sure that they are wrong. But the steel of faith is tempered in the fires of doubt, and he always returns from them a stronger man and knows the truth before it glimpses the light of day.
He sees it before it happens.
Kara stands on the floorboards of a weatherworn, bowing porch, her arms crossed thoughtfully as the wind musses her white-golden hair. She watches a boy play off in the field that sprawls in front of the small house. The child chases a bullfrog that kicks and jumps higher than his head. He shrieks and falls back, and breaks into laughter. It is the beautiful mystery of life.
He knows more than this. In his dream, his vision, his projection, his augury, Kara allows Lee Adama to take her hand and help her off of the Raptor. She looks around at the simple beauty of the planet, and he has his eyes fixed on the sky from which they have just descended. Their eyes meet and the look they exchange is wistful but resolved, one full of inexpressibly artful sadness. Kara’s hand slips to press against the side of her stomach, round with promises and possibilities. Inside, the person-to-be stirs and kicks.
That day is a long way off. Details are still hazy. A few words are exchanged, and Leoben cannot quite hear them, but he will. God will make all things clear to him.
“What’s my destiny, you frakker,” Kara says the words as if they are distasteful to her. Leoben knows she has only disdain for the prophetic visions he receives, but it is not his purpose to cull a flock of the faithful, but merely shepherd souls to their written ends.
He looks at her sagely, his blood singing loudly in his ears. “You are the harbinger of death, Kara Thrace.” She hits him- she considers his a non-answer, and it frustrates her. For that he is sorry, but he welcomes the blow because it feels more real than the dozens of times he has seen this in his mind. He tells her the future when he knows that she will not listen. “Life and death are strange but common bedfellows, Kara.”
Kara’s son grows into a man. He has children, and they have children, and those children have children. Tens of thousands of years pass. The son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son (and so on; even Leoben’s fathomless mind cannot count the generations) of Kara’s son splits an atom in a laboratory.
She takes a Raptor on an illicit trip to the Baseship, likely having requisitioned it for any purpose but this. Leoben chooses to meet her when she disembarks her transport. He moves to speak, offer some platitude neither needs. Kara does not want that, and she grabs him by the collar, pins him against the wall. He is not frightened, for each finds their way to God through a different path. “It’s not mine, do you hear me? That frakking shit, it’s not on my head, it’s not my destiny. Frak.”
He is sympathetic, but cannot breathe. She is so close. Leoben reaches up and places his hand on the side of her face. Her face is full of fury and agonized questions. She hopes for answers that no one can give her, and so she has come to him. A seeker, a pilgrim. He loves her more now than he ever has.
In an instant, she slaps his hand away and kisses him. Her mouth covers his, and he turns their bodies without hesitation. Her hips press up, drawing her body away from the wall and towards his. He grips her thigh, presses his wide palm against her round breast. Their union is blessed by God. He is kind to the arbiters of his Plans.