Rough Mix
Title: Rough Mix
Fandom: Farscape
Character: Stark
Time Frame: pre-series
Spoilers: none
Synopsis: Scene from a short and unsuccessful slave revolt
Word Count: 214
Rating: pg
Warning: death (off screen), violence, angst
Disclaimer: Farscape and the characters and settings therein are the property of the Henson Company, and are used here entirely without permission but entirely with respect. This is for love, not for money.
Acknowledgements: This fic really owes a great deal in its underlying ideas to astrogirl2's fics involving Banik revolts.
Author's Notes: Written for the Random Playlist Meme, based on Ohio (rough mix) as performed by The Dandy Worhols
It won't even make the history books, Stark realizes. Some peacekeeper will make a note in a log, and that will be it. At the rate they're subduing us, we might as well have never done it. We've gained nothing.
He takes a step backwards, winded by the sudden wave of despair he can't fully contain. Something catches his heel and he falls backwards, landing in the mud. He pulls himself along to look at what caught him up and finds himself looking into the empty, dead eyes of his clan-kin, Thylla.
Something snaps in Stark's head. We will make them remember! a feral part of his soul snarls and he lunges at the nearest peacekeeper. He pours the pain of his soul into the young man, ignoring his screams and whispering harshly, "Yes, yes! What if you knew her, found her, lying on the ground? What if, your friend, sister, kin, lover?" The peackeeper falls before Stark, clutching his head and sobbing.
There is a cheer, and the Banik swarm over their oppressors with renewed fervour.
By the end, it does gain notice after all, in the bewilderment of the officer reading the report of the slave revolt recording (after the notation of the livestock losses) the officers down: "Four dead. Four dead."
It's like I'm feeling this need to re-assert my fic personality after writing smoopy J/A and John-bashing Crais fic.
I also hope I did this song justice; it has a great deal of personal meaning for me, as my mother was there.
Fandom: Farscape
Character: Stark
Time Frame: pre-series
Spoilers: none
Synopsis: Scene from a short and unsuccessful slave revolt
Word Count: 214
Rating: pg
Warning: death (off screen), violence, angst
Disclaimer: Farscape and the characters and settings therein are the property of the Henson Company, and are used here entirely without permission but entirely with respect. This is for love, not for money.
Acknowledgements: This fic really owes a great deal in its underlying ideas to astrogirl2's fics involving Banik revolts.
Author's Notes: Written for the Random Playlist Meme, based on Ohio (rough mix) as performed by The Dandy Worhols
It won't even make the history books, Stark realizes. Some peacekeeper will make a note in a log, and that will be it. At the rate they're subduing us, we might as well have never done it. We've gained nothing.
He takes a step backwards, winded by the sudden wave of despair he can't fully contain. Something catches his heel and he falls backwards, landing in the mud. He pulls himself along to look at what caught him up and finds himself looking into the empty, dead eyes of his clan-kin, Thylla.
Something snaps in Stark's head. We will make them remember! a feral part of his soul snarls and he lunges at the nearest peacekeeper. He pours the pain of his soul into the young man, ignoring his screams and whispering harshly, "Yes, yes! What if you knew her, found her, lying on the ground? What if, your friend, sister, kin, lover?" The peackeeper falls before Stark, clutching his head and sobbing.
There is a cheer, and the Banik swarm over their oppressors with renewed fervour.
By the end, it does gain notice after all, in the bewilderment of the officer reading the report of the slave revolt recording (after the notation of the livestock losses) the officers down: "Four dead. Four dead."
It's like I'm feeling this need to re-assert my fic personality after writing smoopy J/A and John-bashing Crais fic.
I also hope I did this song justice; it has a great deal of personal meaning for me, as my mother was there.