Fic + icons
Title: Memory of Sulfur
Author: cybertronics
Rating: G
Pairing: None, but Bane/A pancake if you squint
Word Count: 665
Summary: A breakfast-inspired tale of a Duros, a pancake, and a memory.
--------------------
From the looks of it, Bane could tell it was no ordinary pancake. The color too golden, the texture too soft. He didn’t need to taste or touch, it was the plain sight that gave it away. It was the connection - one that made Bane blush with anticipation and nostalgia.
---------
There were times when he would think back on his childhood, long-since past and blurred by the blood-soaked path of his own choice. Fate had birthed him into a world of a burnt yellow sun and grain-laced hills. A blue sky, the miraculous summer wind, and rows of pancakes. It was all he had. It was all he needed.
It was in the dewy morning that he worked. Before the early sun had risen, row after row of pancake was picked with calloused fingers for harvest. After the sun was set high, the young Duros would rest under the forgiving shade of the maple tree, his personal sanctuary. Perched high on a hill, Bane overlooked the farm, juice box in hand. He sipped and thought of himself, in the epitome of child-like thinking, as the land’s ancient guardian. He, who was the protector of pancakes from now until forever.
In reality, he was a quiet boy and preferred a nod to “yes”. The sulfur tinged colors of his home planet seemed to playfully contrast with his demeanor. But he loved it. Loved the land like his own, tended the pancakes like his children.
His quarters consisted mainly of a bed of straw in a shed with a broken in roof. He owned a not-quite broken labor droid he’d managed to reassemble on one of those rare rainy days. A few neuron candles floated in the corners. And some worn out, but wearable, sets of clothes were thrown in a disorderly pile. Nothing elaborate, but he never noticed.
It was at night when his mind wandered. The stars made him question his sun baked world. It began to seem tiny. Insignificant. He’d form questions, both internally and aloud. He’d ask them to the stars and he’d ask them to himself. To the farmhand, who told him that it was the fault of having Duros blood. He’d grow out of it.
He never did.
He couldn’t remember the incident that unwillingly changed the core of his being. There were brief vibrant images, like koi in black water. He knew that it involved fire, flying pancakes, and not much else. There was a gunshot and his memory would go no further. Had it been his youth’s guilty shock of his first murder, he wouldn’t have been surprised.
But he thought and he knew one thing. Bane knew it was the incident that confirmed his otherworldly questions, that caused him to leave Duro. It had shattered his innocent beliefs and tore and gnawed at his heart, and turned it into something twisted and black. It mutated the boy into a cold-hearted man at an age too young. It became his way of life.
---------
The man now wouldn’t and couldn’t feel so much as a twitch of empathy. The man now hadn’t seen a pancake in decades. And now that one sat before him, he had to ask himself just what to do. It felt like an old friend long dead had suddenly walked out of their grave to pay a surprise visit to him in the tattered down bar.
Bane wasn’t prepared for this. It was an unwarranted and grizzly memory of the past that’d ghosted it’s way over to him in the Coruscant pub, grinning smugly at him like a bastard.
Bane stood from the table. He gave no sign of fear. Of redemption, or pain, or longing. He breathed a silent, measured breath, eyes slit.
He walked away, opened the door and left, back forever turned.
--------------------
Supposed to originally be 200-ish words, but got a bit longer. I ended up liking the idea of Bane being quieter (not shy but quiet and solitary) and living in a rural kinda place in his young!Bane days. Having a contrast to what he is in CW, though I dunno if I nailed my thoughts on it quite right. I realize this is probably so far from whatever is up with young!Bane it’s disgusting. But I ended up playing with the idea a little. Maybe too much, oh well. Anywho. It’s probably better than posting the DLKSJAFLKJSFDBane/Anakin that’ll end up squicking the hell out of anyone who touches it.
Icons, as always.
Author: cybertronics
Rating: G
Pairing: None, but Bane/A pancake if you squint
Word Count: 665
Summary: A breakfast-inspired tale of a Duros, a pancake, and a memory.
--------------------
From the looks of it, Bane could tell it was no ordinary pancake. The color too golden, the texture too soft. He didn’t need to taste or touch, it was the plain sight that gave it away. It was the connection - one that made Bane blush with anticipation and nostalgia.
---------
There were times when he would think back on his childhood, long-since past and blurred by the blood-soaked path of his own choice. Fate had birthed him into a world of a burnt yellow sun and grain-laced hills. A blue sky, the miraculous summer wind, and rows of pancakes. It was all he had. It was all he needed.
It was in the dewy morning that he worked. Before the early sun had risen, row after row of pancake was picked with calloused fingers for harvest. After the sun was set high, the young Duros would rest under the forgiving shade of the maple tree, his personal sanctuary. Perched high on a hill, Bane overlooked the farm, juice box in hand. He sipped and thought of himself, in the epitome of child-like thinking, as the land’s ancient guardian. He, who was the protector of pancakes from now until forever.
In reality, he was a quiet boy and preferred a nod to “yes”. The sulfur tinged colors of his home planet seemed to playfully contrast with his demeanor. But he loved it. Loved the land like his own, tended the pancakes like his children.
His quarters consisted mainly of a bed of straw in a shed with a broken in roof. He owned a not-quite broken labor droid he’d managed to reassemble on one of those rare rainy days. A few neuron candles floated in the corners. And some worn out, but wearable, sets of clothes were thrown in a disorderly pile. Nothing elaborate, but he never noticed.
It was at night when his mind wandered. The stars made him question his sun baked world. It began to seem tiny. Insignificant. He’d form questions, both internally and aloud. He’d ask them to the stars and he’d ask them to himself. To the farmhand, who told him that it was the fault of having Duros blood. He’d grow out of it.
He never did.
He couldn’t remember the incident that unwillingly changed the core of his being. There were brief vibrant images, like koi in black water. He knew that it involved fire, flying pancakes, and not much else. There was a gunshot and his memory would go no further. Had it been his youth’s guilty shock of his first murder, he wouldn’t have been surprised.
But he thought and he knew one thing. Bane knew it was the incident that confirmed his otherworldly questions, that caused him to leave Duro. It had shattered his innocent beliefs and tore and gnawed at his heart, and turned it into something twisted and black. It mutated the boy into a cold-hearted man at an age too young. It became his way of life.
---------
The man now wouldn’t and couldn’t feel so much as a twitch of empathy. The man now hadn’t seen a pancake in decades. And now that one sat before him, he had to ask himself just what to do. It felt like an old friend long dead had suddenly walked out of their grave to pay a surprise visit to him in the tattered down bar.
Bane wasn’t prepared for this. It was an unwarranted and grizzly memory of the past that’d ghosted it’s way over to him in the Coruscant pub, grinning smugly at him like a bastard.
Bane stood from the table. He gave no sign of fear. Of redemption, or pain, or longing. He breathed a silent, measured breath, eyes slit.
He walked away, opened the door and left, back forever turned.
--------------------
Supposed to originally be 200-ish words, but got a bit longer. I ended up liking the idea of Bane being quieter (not shy but quiet and solitary) and living in a rural kinda place in his young!Bane days. Having a contrast to what he is in CW, though I dunno if I nailed my thoughts on it quite right. I realize this is probably so far from whatever is up with young!Bane it’s disgusting. But I ended up playing with the idea a little. Maybe too much, oh well. Anywho. It’s probably better than posting the DLKSJAFLKJSFDBane/Anakin that’ll end up squicking the hell out of anyone who touches it.
Icons, as always.