Vision (1/1)
Title: Vision
Part: 1 of 1.
Author: ninamazing, or Nina
Fandom: Legend of the Seeker
Word Count: 225.
Rating: PG-13.
Spoilers: Do you know what they say about Confessors? Okay then, you're good.
Characters: Kahlan, Richard - go ahead and read it as Richard/Kahlan if you want. I certainly would.
Excerpt: "Command me, Confessor," he says, his voice clear, and Kahlan thinks about all that is now at her disposal: the strength of his sword arm, the decisive cut of his jaw, a heart full of loyalty.
Author's Note: This is my first Seeker fic, and I'm hoping it won't be my last. hollywoodgrrl prompted me with Hugh Cook's lines On his knees he is an avalanche still falling, / But is dead by the time / He bucks to the earth and rolls. / The echo of his cry / Lives half a moment after Achilles.
I freaking love comments, but I also freaking love when people just read my fic even if they are too tired to comment. To that end: I have installed a poll at the bottom so all you have to do is click a button. FEEL FREE TO ALSO LEAVE A COMMENT. I live for your thoughts.
+
There are some days she can't stop seeing it. Her Seeker drops to his knees, and clasps his hands before her. The chestnut of his eyes is somehow brighter now, the pigment intensified and swirling with the colour of his trust.
"Command me, Confessor," he says, his voice clear, and Kahlan thinks about all that is now at her disposal: the strength of his sword arm, the decisive cut of his jaw, a heart full of loyalty. She searches his face for those qualities, for the Richard in whom she once believed. She doesn't find them.
There is only the wash of his blank pupils; a vacant gaze; the shallowness of that shining, devoted brown. He is like a daisy in the field - gorgeous under the sun, withered and broken once it's in her fingers. His power crumbles at her feet.
Kahlan is so weary of carrying destruction.
"Kahlan," he says. She snaps out of it, meets his gaze so sharply that the hilt of her hidden back-knife digs into the base of her neck. Around them the sun is spearing patches of grass through the trees, making fallen leaves sparkle as if gilded.
"Where were you just then?" Richard asks.
She meets his bewildered smile with a half-hearted grin of her own, and shakes her head.
"Nowhere," she tells him. "Let's keep moving."
+
Poll Vision
Part: 1 of 1.
Author: ninamazing, or Nina
Fandom: Legend of the Seeker
Word Count: 225.
Rating: PG-13.
Spoilers: Do you know what they say about Confessors? Okay then, you're good.
Characters: Kahlan, Richard - go ahead and read it as Richard/Kahlan if you want. I certainly would.
Excerpt: "Command me, Confessor," he says, his voice clear, and Kahlan thinks about all that is now at her disposal: the strength of his sword arm, the decisive cut of his jaw, a heart full of loyalty.
Author's Note: This is my first Seeker fic, and I'm hoping it won't be my last. hollywoodgrrl prompted me with Hugh Cook's lines On his knees he is an avalanche still falling, / But is dead by the time / He bucks to the earth and rolls. / The echo of his cry / Lives half a moment after Achilles.
I freaking love comments, but I also freaking love when people just read my fic even if they are too tired to comment. To that end: I have installed a poll at the bottom so all you have to do is click a button. FEEL FREE TO ALSO LEAVE A COMMENT. I live for your thoughts.
+
There are some days she can't stop seeing it. Her Seeker drops to his knees, and clasps his hands before her. The chestnut of his eyes is somehow brighter now, the pigment intensified and swirling with the colour of his trust.
"Command me, Confessor," he says, his voice clear, and Kahlan thinks about all that is now at her disposal: the strength of his sword arm, the decisive cut of his jaw, a heart full of loyalty. She searches his face for those qualities, for the Richard in whom she once believed. She doesn't find them.
There is only the wash of his blank pupils; a vacant gaze; the shallowness of that shining, devoted brown. He is like a daisy in the field - gorgeous under the sun, withered and broken once it's in her fingers. His power crumbles at her feet.
Kahlan is so weary of carrying destruction.
"Kahlan," he says. She snaps out of it, meets his gaze so sharply that the hilt of her hidden back-knife digs into the base of her neck. Around them the sun is spearing patches of grass through the trees, making fallen leaves sparkle as if gilded.
"Where were you just then?" Richard asks.
She meets his bewildered smile with a half-hearted grin of her own, and shakes her head.
"Nowhere," she tells him. "Let's keep moving."
+
Poll Vision