004. lovers
Sep. 24th, 2014 02:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
junkstarsHere I go again - let's see if I can do this without too much stalling!
Lovers. An interesting prompt when my mind is currently focused on world-building, and creating a setting that feels more interesting to me than what I've got? The thing with a world is that I want something that's weird and interesting and yet grounded enough that I could connect to it.
Later: I've come back with some resolutions and a desire to see these two out. This prompt isn't fully checked out, but this is how they meet, and they are destined to fall for each other given time, so.
title: slip and fall
setting: right after berkant's fall, on Earth
warnings: N/A.
characters: Berkant, Lars.
word count: 431 words.
notes: The prose needs polish, but this is better. This is a start. I'm keeping this.
~
It was how Berkant would always remember him; haloed by white light, a flicker of red and blue as a vehicle zipped past the entrance of the alley. Everything Berkant knew about cities told him that those lights meant that he should hear a siren, but he couldn't hear anything past the roaring his ears, echoes of a fight he had lost.
A hand extended, lips moving; it was a miracle Berkant didn't twist and hide from help.
Guilt.
The roaring fading in his ears as his blood cools, feathers falling around him.
The man in front of him kneels, lips still moving, and he presses a white cloth to his arm.
Berkant hisses and jerks his hand back, hearing finally returning, the unearthly light fading as his powers flicker and gutter out.
Pain slams in, ruthless in its intensity, and Berkant slumps into the man's arms, out.
~
"Who are you?" Berkant rasps, looking up at the man. He's hazy, still caught in pain's grip, and all he can realize is that he's lying in a bed, the ceiling is white, the man who rescued him is standing above him, holding a cloth in his hands.
His hair is brown, the blue-white light not doing it any favors, flattening its colors out. His smile...is real. Berkant's eyes close, exhaustion still at work.
"I'm Lars," he says. "Nice to meet you - are you asleep?"
"No."
"That's a relief. I was hoping I could get your name before you rested some more."
Berkant forces an eye open. "You haven't guessed?"
"No," Lars says. He's either innocent, dumb, or truly has no idea who he is.
"My name is Berkant Thresher." There's still no recognition from Lars. Berkant breathes in, then finishes his former title. "Former Commander of the First Host."
"Oh. Wow."
Berkant closes his eye.
"Oh." Now he hears regret. "I'm sorry. Is there someone I should call...?"
"Former," Berkant repeats. "As soon as I can walk again, I'll go. Tell no one I'm here."
He feels fingers touch his hair, trace a circle over his scalp, and he tenses, ready to reach up and - he has no strength. There is nothing he can do.
"I have to call a friend," Lars says, soft. "She can help - and she can keep a secret. Trust us, okay?"
He hasn't a choice. It grates - but he nods.
Then he lets himself fall back into unconsciousness.
~
Lovers. An interesting prompt when my mind is currently focused on world-building, and creating a setting that feels more interesting to me than what I've got? The thing with a world is that I want something that's weird and interesting and yet grounded enough that I could connect to it.
Later: I've come back with some resolutions and a desire to see these two out. This prompt isn't fully checked out, but this is how they meet, and they are destined to fall for each other given time, so.
title: slip and fall
setting: right after berkant's fall, on Earth
warnings: N/A.
characters: Berkant, Lars.
word count: 431 words.
notes: The prose needs polish, but this is better. This is a start. I'm keeping this.
~
It was how Berkant would always remember him; haloed by white light, a flicker of red and blue as a vehicle zipped past the entrance of the alley. Everything Berkant knew about cities told him that those lights meant that he should hear a siren, but he couldn't hear anything past the roaring his ears, echoes of a fight he had lost.
A hand extended, lips moving; it was a miracle Berkant didn't twist and hide from help.
Guilt.
The roaring fading in his ears as his blood cools, feathers falling around him.
The man in front of him kneels, lips still moving, and he presses a white cloth to his arm.
Berkant hisses and jerks his hand back, hearing finally returning, the unearthly light fading as his powers flicker and gutter out.
Pain slams in, ruthless in its intensity, and Berkant slumps into the man's arms, out.
~
"Who are you?" Berkant rasps, looking up at the man. He's hazy, still caught in pain's grip, and all he can realize is that he's lying in a bed, the ceiling is white, the man who rescued him is standing above him, holding a cloth in his hands.
His hair is brown, the blue-white light not doing it any favors, flattening its colors out. His smile...is real. Berkant's eyes close, exhaustion still at work.
"I'm Lars," he says. "Nice to meet you - are you asleep?"
"No."
"That's a relief. I was hoping I could get your name before you rested some more."
Berkant forces an eye open. "You haven't guessed?"
"No," Lars says. He's either innocent, dumb, or truly has no idea who he is.
"My name is Berkant Thresher." There's still no recognition from Lars. Berkant breathes in, then finishes his former title. "Former Commander of the First Host."
"Oh. Wow."
Berkant closes his eye.
"Oh." Now he hears regret. "I'm sorry. Is there someone I should call...?"
"Former," Berkant repeats. "As soon as I can walk again, I'll go. Tell no one I'm here."
He feels fingers touch his hair, trace a circle over his scalp, and he tenses, ready to reach up and - he has no strength. There is nothing he can do.
"I have to call a friend," Lars says, soft. "She can help - and she can keep a secret. Trust us, okay?"
He hasn't a choice. It grates - but he nods.
Then he lets himself fall back into unconsciousness.
~
