Help Haiti drabbles for frolicndetour
1. BSG, Kara
Surrounded by stinking, slimy Cylon guts in a space so small she was forced to lay flat on her stomach, Kara Thrace had never felt so free.
Oddly enough, she was anything but free. The remnants of the human race, if she believed Roslin, depended on her to find some mythical arrow and return safely to embark on a search for yet another dumbass myth.
But that was okay. Because right this minute, she was flying. Not just flying, but soaring through space in this Cylon shell faster than she’d ever imagined.
It was a good day to be alive.
2. BSG, Kara/Helo, post ILiaSoS
He laid his hand on her shoulder and Kara reached up, covered his hand with hers. The Hybrid droned on, saying nothing noticeably meaningful.
“How is he?” Helo asked and pulled his hand away so he could drag a chair beside Kara.
“He’s on vacation for the foreseeable future.” She sounded bitter, but couldn’t bring herself to care.
Helo nudged her knee with his foot. “He’s still alive, Kara, that has to count for something.” She looked at Helo, his open, friendly face; he still believed in hope after all he’d been through, all he’d seen.
The Hybrid’s voice changed and suddenly it was Sam’s. “A symphony of stars to peace the harbinger will lead. Two six eight carom final mark three …”
Kara turned back toward Sam, shifted in her chair until she could lean against Helo’s chest. As they sat together in silence, her bitterness slowly transformed into hope.
3. BSG, Kara/Sam
Sam lazed in bed, watching his wife. After she’d had her way with him, she was still restless, still in need of some kind of release, something she couldn’t get through sex.
At the moment, she rummaged, naked, through a stack of white-painted boards until she found the one she wanted. She set it onto her easel, grabbed a square of plastic with a hole in it for her thumb, and squeezed several blobs of paint onto the smooth surface.
Brush in hand, she glanced over her shoulder at Sam, turned back to the makeshift canvas and began to paint.
Hope you like 'em! And 'cause it's you, frolicndetour, the second one is a drabble and a half. :P
Surrounded by stinking, slimy Cylon guts in a space so small she was forced to lay flat on her stomach, Kara Thrace had never felt so free.
Oddly enough, she was anything but free. The remnants of the human race, if she believed Roslin, depended on her to find some mythical arrow and return safely to embark on a search for yet another dumbass myth.
But that was okay. Because right this minute, she was flying. Not just flying, but soaring through space in this Cylon shell faster than she’d ever imagined.
It was a good day to be alive.
2. BSG, Kara/Helo, post ILiaSoS
He laid his hand on her shoulder and Kara reached up, covered his hand with hers. The Hybrid droned on, saying nothing noticeably meaningful.
“How is he?” Helo asked and pulled his hand away so he could drag a chair beside Kara.
“He’s on vacation for the foreseeable future.” She sounded bitter, but couldn’t bring herself to care.
Helo nudged her knee with his foot. “He’s still alive, Kara, that has to count for something.” She looked at Helo, his open, friendly face; he still believed in hope after all he’d been through, all he’d seen.
The Hybrid’s voice changed and suddenly it was Sam’s. “A symphony of stars to peace the harbinger will lead. Two six eight carom final mark three …”
Kara turned back toward Sam, shifted in her chair until she could lean against Helo’s chest. As they sat together in silence, her bitterness slowly transformed into hope.
3. BSG, Kara/Sam
Sam lazed in bed, watching his wife. After she’d had her way with him, she was still restless, still in need of some kind of release, something she couldn’t get through sex.
At the moment, she rummaged, naked, through a stack of white-painted boards until she found the one she wanted. She set it onto her easel, grabbed a square of plastic with a hole in it for her thumb, and squeezed several blobs of paint onto the smooth surface.
Brush in hand, she glanced over her shoulder at Sam, turned back to the makeshift canvas and began to paint.
Hope you like 'em! And 'cause it's you, frolicndetour, the second one is a drabble and a half. :P