[twilight] Statues: Volume XIII
Title: To Die Today
Fandom: Twilight
Pairing: Tanya/Irina
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The more you know, the smaller the world becomes, until it all fits comfortably into the chest of one other person. [for the twilight uncanon drabble request meme at pinkceptional!]
Everything dies. Alaska becomes a country unto itself, but it’s useless. North America is a wasteland populated in sparing clusters. Somehow, somehow, they find themselves in the New British Empire, recent conqueror of Volterra.
Their race is loud now. Hunted. Months back, Carmen was seized straight from Eleazar’s arms and torn apart by the Traitors. Eleazar gladly followed. Kate fought viciously, refusing to flee with Tanya and Irina. And so they crouch together, alone, in the shadow of a brownstone. Their skin is streaked from the bars above, separating their sewer from the world outside. It’s crowded and full of toxic little heartbeats that are slowly driving the two of them insane.
Days pass, knee-deep in the gutter. Water creeps up cotton, turning all Irina’s dresses a sickly off-white. It’s the color of teeth pulled from their faulty roots and strewn about a skull. The filth wears away at Tanya, as well. At her shell, shearing the enamel in soggy strips. Now she doesn’t mind wrapping her arms around Irina when she shivers - and her fear is just like a child’s, just as raw, the only part she’s managed to preserve.
But even the rats perish as the world is brought into a new era of sunlight. They notice as less and less trash floats along the water, until it runs nearly clear around their ankles. And then the Traitors come, torchless with their perfect vision. Even the shadows can no longer protect the last of the Denali.
They won’t go like that. They’ve lived too long and loved too little. Irina, always brash and newly honest, rips her heart out first. The Traitors pause, watching curiously - Demetri, a former lover, halts a newborn soldier and awaits Tanya’s response. Without thinking, she plucks the silent sliver of humanity from her chest. Removing it doesn’t feel like anything, not even an itch, but to see it… Tanya’s in Irina’s hand, Irina’s in Tanya’s, and the water reflecting off them both… It’s almost like they’re beating. Together, it doesn't hurt for them to stop.
Title: Il Mio Cantante Di Pietra
Fandom: Twilight
Pairing: Edward Cullen/Tanya
Rating: PG
Summary: They bathe in the ashes - because when you never sleep, how do you rise? [for the twilight uncanon drabble request meme at pinkceptional!]
Years of humans, heartbeats, and singers spark the fire in her ribcage. It licks and flares and dies. The bone has burned away and it’s all a fluttery pile of nothing now, waiting to be blown by the humblest breeze.
Humans get in the way, she thinks, alighting in his lap. He doesn’t move; it’s like being cradled by a statue, implacable and eroded. Tanya curls up and burrows into the hollow of his throat, smelling that same stench: stoked coals, whitened wood. They’re not forever.
As though a bolt of lightning has struck him, he breaks from his bonds of stone. His hands tangle in her hair, pulling at the spidersilk strands. His lips are cold and raw and they match hers to insufferable perfection.
Inside, she feels it stirring. The feathered flame, the phoenix. Its slashed throat stretches and noises tumble off its tongue. There’s no song, but between them perhaps they can muster a tear.
Fandom: Twilight
Pairing: Tanya/Irina
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The more you know, the smaller the world becomes, until it all fits comfortably into the chest of one other person. [for the twilight uncanon drabble request meme at pinkceptional!]
Everything dies. Alaska becomes a country unto itself, but it’s useless. North America is a wasteland populated in sparing clusters. Somehow, somehow, they find themselves in the New British Empire, recent conqueror of Volterra.
Their race is loud now. Hunted. Months back, Carmen was seized straight from Eleazar’s arms and torn apart by the Traitors. Eleazar gladly followed. Kate fought viciously, refusing to flee with Tanya and Irina. And so they crouch together, alone, in the shadow of a brownstone. Their skin is streaked from the bars above, separating their sewer from the world outside. It’s crowded and full of toxic little heartbeats that are slowly driving the two of them insane.
Days pass, knee-deep in the gutter. Water creeps up cotton, turning all Irina’s dresses a sickly off-white. It’s the color of teeth pulled from their faulty roots and strewn about a skull. The filth wears away at Tanya, as well. At her shell, shearing the enamel in soggy strips. Now she doesn’t mind wrapping her arms around Irina when she shivers - and her fear is just like a child’s, just as raw, the only part she’s managed to preserve.
But even the rats perish as the world is brought into a new era of sunlight. They notice as less and less trash floats along the water, until it runs nearly clear around their ankles. And then the Traitors come, torchless with their perfect vision. Even the shadows can no longer protect the last of the Denali.
They won’t go like that. They’ve lived too long and loved too little. Irina, always brash and newly honest, rips her heart out first. The Traitors pause, watching curiously - Demetri, a former lover, halts a newborn soldier and awaits Tanya’s response. Without thinking, she plucks the silent sliver of humanity from her chest. Removing it doesn’t feel like anything, not even an itch, but to see it… Tanya’s in Irina’s hand, Irina’s in Tanya’s, and the water reflecting off them both… It’s almost like they’re beating. Together, it doesn't hurt for them to stop.
Title: Il Mio Cantante Di Pietra
Fandom: Twilight
Pairing: Edward Cullen/Tanya
Rating: PG
Summary: They bathe in the ashes - because when you never sleep, how do you rise? [for the twilight uncanon drabble request meme at pinkceptional!]
Years of humans, heartbeats, and singers spark the fire in her ribcage. It licks and flares and dies. The bone has burned away and it’s all a fluttery pile of nothing now, waiting to be blown by the humblest breeze.
Humans get in the way, she thinks, alighting in his lap. He doesn’t move; it’s like being cradled by a statue, implacable and eroded. Tanya curls up and burrows into the hollow of his throat, smelling that same stench: stoked coals, whitened wood. They’re not forever.
As though a bolt of lightning has struck him, he breaks from his bonds of stone. His hands tangle in her hair, pulling at the spidersilk strands. His lips are cold and raw and they match hers to insufferable perfection.
Inside, she feels it stirring. The feathered flame, the phoenix. Its slashed throat stretches and noises tumble off its tongue. There’s no song, but between them perhaps they can muster a tear.