Drops in the Bath
Title: Drops in the Bath
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Character: Alison Porter
Medium: Free form prose
Rating: PG
Orientation: Gen
Word Count: 563
Prompt: Hurt Comfort Fill: Fall From Grace
Bloodplay
Angst Bingo Fill: “Selling Your Soul”
Note: for
camshaft22 , because all the Alisons are hers.
How she came to be in this place is a distant, vague memory she does not chase.
It doesn’t matter, really.
An explosion. The way back destroyed, her companions, her team, dead in a heartbeat.
She the sole survivor, alone, stranded - those are the pertinent facts of her new life.
The others, once friends, were now charred bones and dust on the sand. Forgotten.
The Gate was gone.
She lived, they died. Part of her died with them; the part that revered duty.
She imagined once that she would never laugh again. There would be no joy, only pain.
Walking aimlessly for an age under the beating sun, her body throbbed with pain.
The sun dried her.
She thirsted, she thirsted so very much. It became her sole thought as she stumbled along.
Finding a drink, the search her new obsession as she walked dying in the sun.
She remembers falling, first to her knees, then forward onto her face.
She breathed heated sand.
Then came rescue. Alien voices drifting around her, discussing her, poking at her.
In agony, she would have drunk anything put to her lips. The source did not matter.
The first burst of salty thickness had not registered in her mind as what it was.
Moisture bathed her mouth.
She gulped it down, not caring that it spilled out and over her lips and chin.
Only later, when she wiped her hand across her face, did she see the slash of red.
They could not pronounce her name, no matter how often she corrected them.
She became Hal-eh-zon.
A new identity for her new place. Hal-eh-zon feasted on what they offered.
Their offerings strengthened her while at the same time, sapped away the old.
At first, she played the part, adopted a role to get by, to survive in this strange place.
It eventually consumed her.
Acting became second nature. The role she took on became her new life, her new purpose.
She forgot herself as she played the part and Hal-eh-zon became real.
Hal-eh-zon was revered as a goddess, sent across the sands to lead them.
The power was intoxicating.
The ritual baths were a source of strength, a liquid symbol of her new position.
She came to love the baths and preferred soaking in a golden tub of red to anything else.
A slim hand raised, dripping heavy red droplets into the pool that surrounded her.
A sight she adored.
Her new people were at war, and the supply for her bath seemingly endless.
Heavy and warm, the bath swirled around her, staining her pale skin red.
Her old life forgotten, her memory dust. Once she might have been disgusted.
But now, she reveled.
Quiet, sullen, bookish little doctor, empowered by the bath. More than she had been.
Regulations be damned. Was it not better to be a goddess than to be dead?
As she watches the trickle of red slide down her arm, she ponders idly.
Would someone find her?
If they came, would they recognize the woman in the goddess?
Her new people would not give her up. She would not want them to.
The bath was her joy now. It gave her strength.
It defined Hal-eh-zon.
She dared them to try to take her away, to take her back.
Anyone who came searching now would surely join her in the bath.
The End
Originally posted at http://rinkafic.dreamwidth.org/
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Character: Alison Porter
Medium: Free form prose
Rating: PG
Orientation: Gen
Word Count: 563
Prompt: Hurt Comfort Fill: Fall From Grace
Bloodplay
Angst Bingo Fill: “Selling Your Soul”
Note: for
camshaft22 , because all the Alisons are hers.
How she came to be in this place is a distant, vague memory she does not chase.
It doesn’t matter, really.
An explosion. The way back destroyed, her companions, her team, dead in a heartbeat.
She the sole survivor, alone, stranded - those are the pertinent facts of her new life.
The others, once friends, were now charred bones and dust on the sand. Forgotten.
The Gate was gone.
She lived, they died. Part of her died with them; the part that revered duty.
She imagined once that she would never laugh again. There would be no joy, only pain.
Walking aimlessly for an age under the beating sun, her body throbbed with pain.
The sun dried her.
She thirsted, she thirsted so very much. It became her sole thought as she stumbled along.
Finding a drink, the search her new obsession as she walked dying in the sun.
She remembers falling, first to her knees, then forward onto her face.
She breathed heated sand.
Then came rescue. Alien voices drifting around her, discussing her, poking at her.
In agony, she would have drunk anything put to her lips. The source did not matter.
The first burst of salty thickness had not registered in her mind as what it was.
Moisture bathed her mouth.
She gulped it down, not caring that it spilled out and over her lips and chin.
Only later, when she wiped her hand across her face, did she see the slash of red.
They could not pronounce her name, no matter how often she corrected them.
She became Hal-eh-zon.
A new identity for her new place. Hal-eh-zon feasted on what they offered.
Their offerings strengthened her while at the same time, sapped away the old.
At first, she played the part, adopted a role to get by, to survive in this strange place.
It eventually consumed her.
Acting became second nature. The role she took on became her new life, her new purpose.
She forgot herself as she played the part and Hal-eh-zon became real.
Hal-eh-zon was revered as a goddess, sent across the sands to lead them.
The power was intoxicating.
The ritual baths were a source of strength, a liquid symbol of her new position.
She came to love the baths and preferred soaking in a golden tub of red to anything else.
A slim hand raised, dripping heavy red droplets into the pool that surrounded her.
A sight she adored.
Her new people were at war, and the supply for her bath seemingly endless.
Heavy and warm, the bath swirled around her, staining her pale skin red.
Her old life forgotten, her memory dust. Once she might have been disgusted.
But now, she reveled.
Quiet, sullen, bookish little doctor, empowered by the bath. More than she had been.
Regulations be damned. Was it not better to be a goddess than to be dead?
As she watches the trickle of red slide down her arm, she ponders idly.
Would someone find her?
If they came, would they recognize the woman in the goddess?
Her new people would not give her up. She would not want them to.
The bath was her joy now. It gave her strength.
It defined Hal-eh-zon.
She dared them to try to take her away, to take her back.
Anyone who came searching now would surely join her in the bath.
The End
Originally posted at http://rinkafic.dreamwidth.org/