(no subject)
For willowmae, until there's a better-ish plan of action to improve things!
For the challenge: "I've got this great subconscious memory of places I've never been." Also kind of for Lilian's five things challenge. Kind of.
Title: Fragments of Memory
Author: Me
Ship: Mako/Neph
Warnings: AU in some places, sad endings in several.
Rating: R
Summary: Star-crossed lovers. They live, they love and they die in the prime of their verdant youth, gloriously tragic, and the cycle continues.
-SILVER-
Melantha's first meeting with Nolen was on the moon, in the royal palace. There he stood, lean and solid and earthy-vibrant, chestnut hair and striking blue eyes. In the tradition of the time, they duelled on the practice grounds, and when it concluded at a draw, he clasped her hand in both of his and kissed her palm rather than shaking it. Her fingers tingled with the spreading warmth and she allowed herself to smile unguardedly. A faint quirk of lips. A dimple in one cheek. A glint of warmth and interest in her eyes. It wasn't a perfect smile, and yet, he told her later that he'd never seen anyone look so beautiful as she did that moment.
She'd kissed him when he told her that, and between their lips, she felt the sparkle of the stars and the sizzle of her lightning. She had never believed in love, and yet, here it was-- thrilling and intoxicating, and perhaps both of them had been too happy for the universe to tolerate. Two people could only laugh so much and soar so high before a fall.
He shattered her world with a sword and a denial, and when she killed him on her last breath, she smiled again, unguarded and imperfect. "We'll meet again," she whispered into the wind of desolation that surrounded them, before all went dark and cold. The knife-crescent moon gleamed steely that night as its life bled itself away.
-ROSY-
"Ring around the rosies, pockets full o'posies..."
Lord Nigel of Astorea had been passing through the village of Sylvania when he had first seen her. With a wood-nymph's beauty and charm, her unbound hair curling down her back like an auburn waterfall, she was leaning against the fence surrounding the mill. He watched her talk to the miller's son, a frail, waif-like child with a shock of straw-coloured hair and too-big eyes, and he had fallen in love with her as she embraced the little commoner like she would a younger brother, uncaring of status, with an easy affection that came from a generous heart.
She had still seemed healthy-- rosy-cheeked and brilliant-eyed-- when he had secured her hand in marriage. Her father, the lord of Sylvania manor, smiled and promised a sizable dowry, and Nigel had kissed her palm... the gesture seeming oddly familiar, though he had no idea why.
"Ashes, ashes, we all fall down!"
Two months later, when he had returned from his travels to claim his bride, Sylvania was a town of the dead. Nigel stumbled blindly, despairingly into the small graveyard in the back of the monastery, and read the inscription on a newly-turned grave.
Lady Maeryn of Sylvania, aged fifteen, had died of the plague, roses still blooming on her cheeks like a bridal flush, too early to feel his kiss. She had been doomed since the day they had met in the village.
-BLUES-
Marietta Kingsley first saw Nathaniel Starr through the smoke and glamour of a nightclub, and when he noticed, he returned her coquettish smile with a lazy smirk, rising from his chair and walking towards her at a slow, informal saunter. In the background, the powerful alto voice of the blues singer on the stage warbled about hard times and lost love, and really, perhaps they should have noticed that sign.
But they didn't, and when he asked her to dance, she agreed. They moved languidly to the beat, and he was the envy of all the fellows who would have given anything to be graced with that slow, rose-lipped smile. He brought her hand to his lips at the end of the dance, and she blushed, wondering at the oddly familiar sensation.
She graciously welcomed him the next day, when he came calling with a bouquet of blue orchids with an exotic, decadent fragrance. A whirlwind affair, but Marietta never waffled over life. She kissed him brazenly at the door, rouge smudging wantonly over both their faces, and a month later, they celebrated their engagement in the most glamourous party that the town had seen all year.
And the last. Two weeks later, a day after Black Tuesday, just as they walked past, an armed, desperate farmer who'd just learnt of his foreclosure opened fire upon the street. And like they had lived, they fell in a blaze of smoke and blood-red, out with a bang.
-JADED-
Nick met Lita on the playground of Porter Elementary School. Not that recesses lasted long, because it was a bad neighborhood, and even the high fences couldn't keep out everything.
But at seven and six respectively, Nick and Lita were still too young to understand, really. His mother carefully never told him that he had a father. The school was frigid during wintertime and the bathrooms had no toilet paper, but during recess, he could always play with her on the rusty swingset and pretend that he was soaring to the stars, away from the cracks in the windows and the graffiti on the walls and the bigger kids who carried razors in their pockets.
Nick finally met his father one night at blood-red sunset. He'd been fifteen, and when he'd heard his mother screaming, he'd dashed in, forgetting the cardinal rule of living in this city. His father, a drunken brute too far gone to know or care, turned at the sound of the interloper and fired.
Lita didn't cry at his funeral, didn't make any reaction to the police and camera crews of a city finally pretending to care, didn't answer any questions. In the chaos, she disappeared into the night, and even when she had to sell herself to keep alive, she never cried or smiled... until a customer had kissed her palm and she'd shivered at the wrongness, sobbing afterwards in the dark until she threw up.
-GOLD-
When Earth entered the new Golden Age, the wedding of Neo-King Endymion and Neo-Queen Serenity was celebrated in great pomp and splendour, and Crystal Tokyo gleamed and sparkled like a beacon of hope in the sunset.
Lady Makoto, the senshi of defense in her queen's guard, met Lord Nephrite, general of North America, on one of the balconies of the palace. She set down her champagne glass, and gave him her hand, and when he bowed and pressed a kiss to her palm, her eyes widened behind the emerald-studded mask that she wore.
He, too, froze for a moment as he stood back upright. Blue eyes met green in the peaceful, golden glow of the setting sun, and both felt the beginnings of a smile curving across their faces.
"This... is going to seem utterly strange, and perhaps a little rude, milady," he said softly as he took a step forward. "But... I've got this great subconscious memory of places I've never been."
For some reason, his confirmation made that slight smile bloom into giddiness on her face, and she stepped closer as well, reaching out her fingers to trace his cheek. "Me too," she whispered softly into the night air, her eyes radiant. He grinned, cupping her face with his fingers and untying the ribbons that held her mask in place before kissing her lips.
"Welcome back," she whispered against his mouth, tangling her fingers in his hair. "This time it's forever."
For the challenge: "I've got this great subconscious memory of places I've never been." Also kind of for Lilian's five things challenge. Kind of.
Title: Fragments of Memory
Author: Me
Ship: Mako/Neph
Warnings: AU in some places, sad endings in several.
Rating: R
Summary: Star-crossed lovers. They live, they love and they die in the prime of their verdant youth, gloriously tragic, and the cycle continues.
-SILVER-
Melantha's first meeting with Nolen was on the moon, in the royal palace. There he stood, lean and solid and earthy-vibrant, chestnut hair and striking blue eyes. In the tradition of the time, they duelled on the practice grounds, and when it concluded at a draw, he clasped her hand in both of his and kissed her palm rather than shaking it. Her fingers tingled with the spreading warmth and she allowed herself to smile unguardedly. A faint quirk of lips. A dimple in one cheek. A glint of warmth and interest in her eyes. It wasn't a perfect smile, and yet, he told her later that he'd never seen anyone look so beautiful as she did that moment.
She'd kissed him when he told her that, and between their lips, she felt the sparkle of the stars and the sizzle of her lightning. She had never believed in love, and yet, here it was-- thrilling and intoxicating, and perhaps both of them had been too happy for the universe to tolerate. Two people could only laugh so much and soar so high before a fall.
He shattered her world with a sword and a denial, and when she killed him on her last breath, she smiled again, unguarded and imperfect. "We'll meet again," she whispered into the wind of desolation that surrounded them, before all went dark and cold. The knife-crescent moon gleamed steely that night as its life bled itself away.
-ROSY-
"Ring around the rosies, pockets full o'posies..."
Lord Nigel of Astorea had been passing through the village of Sylvania when he had first seen her. With a wood-nymph's beauty and charm, her unbound hair curling down her back like an auburn waterfall, she was leaning against the fence surrounding the mill. He watched her talk to the miller's son, a frail, waif-like child with a shock of straw-coloured hair and too-big eyes, and he had fallen in love with her as she embraced the little commoner like she would a younger brother, uncaring of status, with an easy affection that came from a generous heart.
She had still seemed healthy-- rosy-cheeked and brilliant-eyed-- when he had secured her hand in marriage. Her father, the lord of Sylvania manor, smiled and promised a sizable dowry, and Nigel had kissed her palm... the gesture seeming oddly familiar, though he had no idea why.
"Ashes, ashes, we all fall down!"
Two months later, when he had returned from his travels to claim his bride, Sylvania was a town of the dead. Nigel stumbled blindly, despairingly into the small graveyard in the back of the monastery, and read the inscription on a newly-turned grave.
Lady Maeryn of Sylvania, aged fifteen, had died of the plague, roses still blooming on her cheeks like a bridal flush, too early to feel his kiss. She had been doomed since the day they had met in the village.
-BLUES-
Marietta Kingsley first saw Nathaniel Starr through the smoke and glamour of a nightclub, and when he noticed, he returned her coquettish smile with a lazy smirk, rising from his chair and walking towards her at a slow, informal saunter. In the background, the powerful alto voice of the blues singer on the stage warbled about hard times and lost love, and really, perhaps they should have noticed that sign.
But they didn't, and when he asked her to dance, she agreed. They moved languidly to the beat, and he was the envy of all the fellows who would have given anything to be graced with that slow, rose-lipped smile. He brought her hand to his lips at the end of the dance, and she blushed, wondering at the oddly familiar sensation.
She graciously welcomed him the next day, when he came calling with a bouquet of blue orchids with an exotic, decadent fragrance. A whirlwind affair, but Marietta never waffled over life. She kissed him brazenly at the door, rouge smudging wantonly over both their faces, and a month later, they celebrated their engagement in the most glamourous party that the town had seen all year.
And the last. Two weeks later, a day after Black Tuesday, just as they walked past, an armed, desperate farmer who'd just learnt of his foreclosure opened fire upon the street. And like they had lived, they fell in a blaze of smoke and blood-red, out with a bang.
-JADED-
Nick met Lita on the playground of Porter Elementary School. Not that recesses lasted long, because it was a bad neighborhood, and even the high fences couldn't keep out everything.
But at seven and six respectively, Nick and Lita were still too young to understand, really. His mother carefully never told him that he had a father. The school was frigid during wintertime and the bathrooms had no toilet paper, but during recess, he could always play with her on the rusty swingset and pretend that he was soaring to the stars, away from the cracks in the windows and the graffiti on the walls and the bigger kids who carried razors in their pockets.
Nick finally met his father one night at blood-red sunset. He'd been fifteen, and when he'd heard his mother screaming, he'd dashed in, forgetting the cardinal rule of living in this city. His father, a drunken brute too far gone to know or care, turned at the sound of the interloper and fired.
Lita didn't cry at his funeral, didn't make any reaction to the police and camera crews of a city finally pretending to care, didn't answer any questions. In the chaos, she disappeared into the night, and even when she had to sell herself to keep alive, she never cried or smiled... until a customer had kissed her palm and she'd shivered at the wrongness, sobbing afterwards in the dark until she threw up.
-GOLD-
When Earth entered the new Golden Age, the wedding of Neo-King Endymion and Neo-Queen Serenity was celebrated in great pomp and splendour, and Crystal Tokyo gleamed and sparkled like a beacon of hope in the sunset.
Lady Makoto, the senshi of defense in her queen's guard, met Lord Nephrite, general of North America, on one of the balconies of the palace. She set down her champagne glass, and gave him her hand, and when he bowed and pressed a kiss to her palm, her eyes widened behind the emerald-studded mask that she wore.
He, too, froze for a moment as he stood back upright. Blue eyes met green in the peaceful, golden glow of the setting sun, and both felt the beginnings of a smile curving across their faces.
"This... is going to seem utterly strange, and perhaps a little rude, milady," he said softly as he took a step forward. "But... I've got this great subconscious memory of places I've never been."
For some reason, his confirmation made that slight smile bloom into giddiness on her face, and she stepped closer as well, reaching out her fingers to trace his cheek. "Me too," she whispered softly into the night air, her eyes radiant. He grinned, cupping her face with his fingers and untying the ribbons that held her mask in place before kissing her lips.
"Welcome back," she whispered against his mouth, tangling her fingers in his hair. "This time it's forever."