FICLET: Remembrance
Hope you are all well. Life continues to be stupidly busy (that'll teach me to go on holiday) and I'm horribly behind with LJ land, and very much aware I owe comments all over the place. Next week looks calmer, but, hey? Who knows?
*sigh*
Anyway, despite that - this. No idea where it came from and why, but better out than in and all.
Title: erm... Remembrance? Or something...
Set: Post-Chosen
Pairings: Drusilla only (but Spike/Dru by implication)
Rating: PG
The dark queen sits in the midnight of her madness and dreams of her lost knight. She spins webs of darkness in her mind, snares brittle images of the past in the tangled skeins of her memory. Flashes of remembrance...
…so long ago…
…the first taste of blood laced with light, sweet with heartbreak and broken dreams and spiced with buried passions ready to burn…
…burning for her…
…his body her to command, teasing, caressing, teaching him the beauty of pain, willing student, quick to follow, quick to learn…
…such a wicked child…
…cries of pain and pleasure blending in the darkness to fill her head and mix with her laughter and make her feel like …
…moonbeams and rainbows dancing in her mind…
…pale skin, silk on steel, fingernails raked across its perfection to raise crimson, fire-bright blood on the canvas of his flesh, lick away the salt-sweet bitter-honey darkness that still held echoes of the man he’d been…
…tastes of sin and sugarplums and silver starshine…
…in distant lands of dim memory, images merging into a kaleidoscope of silken dresses and silken skin and jewelled blood like rubies and tastes of taken lives rich with the sharp intoxication of fear and the feel of the air beneath her feet and the night sky in her hair as he lifted her, laughing, above the mayhem they had made to twirl and spin beneath foreign skies sparked with unknown stars…
…and dancing, always dancing…
… in the moonlight, watching from the shadows as he fought, quicksilver-bright, a whirlwind of fist and fangs and feline ferocity, revelling in the strength of his body and the exhilaration of the fight and the blood on his lips and the tearing of flesh…
…born to slash ... and bash ... and bleed like beautiful poetry…
…shining with hard, cold glee, delighting in the knife-edged dance of strength and skill and desire, revelling in the final crack of a neck and the taste of a slayer’s blood…
…my darling deadly boy…
…watched him grow, boy to man, fledgling to slayer-killer, child to father, kept her safe, held her together with the feel of him, sense of him, calling of him, as she wandered the twisted forests of her mind, bringing her home, keeping her safe…
And then…
and then…
She felt him burn.
Felt the pain of his ending through the connection of his beginning - life-taker and giver, mother, child, lover. Demon called to demon, echoed across time, blood bonds older than ages, deeper than memory - a sudden, searing pain that curled her, mewling, on the unyielding ground.
Seer’s eyes saw searing flame, heat worse than sunlight, lover’s heart felt the fire burning hope to ashes, tongue that had tasted his, tasted dust. A hundred years of love and passion… gone…
…the dance has ended and where will she go?
And the seer saw her…
…nasty little beast, little liar, slayer whore…
…heard the stinging words that wormed like maggots into her brain, tore whimpers of despair from her dust dry throat. She cried her hurt, swore vengeance on the sunlight-deadly deceiver who took her boy away, who drove him to his ending and left him with only the cruelty of her words…
…the slayer… kill her… kill her for me, Spike… Spike?
But the dark queen sits in the midnight of her madness and dreams, and dreams are all she has. He has gone…
…all gone, all of them… gone or lost…
…and she wanders her dark forests alone. So thoughts of vengeance fade into the darkness and she sits and tells her pain to the stars she’d named for him, the taste of him ashes in her mouth.
So.
Have a good day, all. I've a 50-slide kit to put together in a field I know nothing about. By Friday. Can I say - meep?
*sigh*
Anyway, despite that - this. No idea where it came from and why, but better out than in and all.
Title: erm... Remembrance? Or something...
Set: Post-Chosen
Pairings: Drusilla only (but Spike/Dru by implication)
Rating: PG
The dark queen sits in the midnight of her madness and dreams of her lost knight. She spins webs of darkness in her mind, snares brittle images of the past in the tangled skeins of her memory. Flashes of remembrance...
…so long ago…
…the first taste of blood laced with light, sweet with heartbreak and broken dreams and spiced with buried passions ready to burn…
…burning for her…
…his body her to command, teasing, caressing, teaching him the beauty of pain, willing student, quick to follow, quick to learn…
…such a wicked child…
…cries of pain and pleasure blending in the darkness to fill her head and mix with her laughter and make her feel like …
…moonbeams and rainbows dancing in her mind…
…pale skin, silk on steel, fingernails raked across its perfection to raise crimson, fire-bright blood on the canvas of his flesh, lick away the salt-sweet bitter-honey darkness that still held echoes of the man he’d been…
…tastes of sin and sugarplums and silver starshine…
…in distant lands of dim memory, images merging into a kaleidoscope of silken dresses and silken skin and jewelled blood like rubies and tastes of taken lives rich with the sharp intoxication of fear and the feel of the air beneath her feet and the night sky in her hair as he lifted her, laughing, above the mayhem they had made to twirl and spin beneath foreign skies sparked with unknown stars…
…and dancing, always dancing…
… in the moonlight, watching from the shadows as he fought, quicksilver-bright, a whirlwind of fist and fangs and feline ferocity, revelling in the strength of his body and the exhilaration of the fight and the blood on his lips and the tearing of flesh…
…born to slash ... and bash ... and bleed like beautiful poetry…
…shining with hard, cold glee, delighting in the knife-edged dance of strength and skill and desire, revelling in the final crack of a neck and the taste of a slayer’s blood…
…my darling deadly boy…
…watched him grow, boy to man, fledgling to slayer-killer, child to father, kept her safe, held her together with the feel of him, sense of him, calling of him, as she wandered the twisted forests of her mind, bringing her home, keeping her safe…
And then…
and then…
She felt him burn.
Felt the pain of his ending through the connection of his beginning - life-taker and giver, mother, child, lover. Demon called to demon, echoed across time, blood bonds older than ages, deeper than memory - a sudden, searing pain that curled her, mewling, on the unyielding ground.
Seer’s eyes saw searing flame, heat worse than sunlight, lover’s heart felt the fire burning hope to ashes, tongue that had tasted his, tasted dust. A hundred years of love and passion… gone…
…the dance has ended and where will she go?
And the seer saw her…
…nasty little beast, little liar, slayer whore…
…heard the stinging words that wormed like maggots into her brain, tore whimpers of despair from her dust dry throat. She cried her hurt, swore vengeance on the sunlight-deadly deceiver who took her boy away, who drove him to his ending and left him with only the cruelty of her words…
…the slayer… kill her… kill her for me, Spike… Spike?
But the dark queen sits in the midnight of her madness and dreams, and dreams are all she has. He has gone…
…all gone, all of them… gone or lost…
…and she wanders her dark forests alone. So thoughts of vengeance fade into the darkness and she sits and tells her pain to the stars she’d named for him, the taste of him ashes in her mouth.
So.
Have a good day, all. I've a 50-slide kit to put together in a field I know nothing about. By Friday. Can I say - meep?