Original, Suikoden, 12K.
Feb. 23rd, 2006 12:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
runicloreInspiration from ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
15minuteficlets once again. It makes a good exercise, and I like that it doesn't require much effort. :P I really should go to bed.
Word: whispered (#139)
Time: 16 minutes
Notes: original, wtfverse with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kartia, etc.
The summons slithered through the palace in whispers until it reached Gabriel. No one would speak directly to her, even though she had returned with the Regent, safe behind the authority of his blessing. They probably thought trechery was contagious. Reflecting on the last stretch of Samael's campaign, she couldn't blame them. It had spread through the ranks the way epidemics decimated human settlements.
It stayed that way for years, too many for her to bother counting, until finally a call had come from behind the veil. She walked instead of flying, because she felt a little unsteady. It was no great distance from the library, where she took refuge in place of her normal position by the throne.
The others didn't think she would ever be in favor again. It was easy to tell by their glances. Maybe they thought it was her death march, and she wasn't sure they were wrong. Or perhaps an appointment with Uriel was waiting for her, and she would only wish for the supposed peace of non-existence. There was no real precedent for punishing her kind, but it happened on occasion. She didn't like to remember them.
The hour of silence descended before she reached the dais. For the first time in as long as she could remember, no one else stood around the veil to watch her approach except for Michael, and his gaze was wary, and his lips thin with tension. He motioned for her to pass and parted the veil so she could step up gracefully.
Eyes down, she sank to one knee as she had often seen Metatron do, and bowed low, not daring to rise once she lowered her head. There were things to say, ceremonial greetings and obeisance that she should make. Uncertainty froze her tongue, and she said nothing.
Then she felt the opening of her mind, and the flood of her memories, and knew why he summoned her. She would have begged for Uriel's fire if only she could speak.
- - - - -
Word: routine (#138)
Time: ~17 minutes. God forbid I actually stop at fifteen.
Notes: wtfverse based on Twelve Kingdoms and Suikoden. Don't ask. Plan of Ultimate Evil, etc. Sarah = kirin, Luc = king. It boggles even my mind, really.
Sera woke before dawn most days to prepare for the morning audience. Though she had no preferences to speak of, her attendants seemed to enjoy draping her in fine silks and fashionable dresses from Han - it seemed there was a new one every day, but she wasn't very good at keeping track of such things. She simply allowed them their play, and sat still for them to comb her hair, which she truly was grateful for. It nearly reached the floor, and her arms ached whenever she tried to brush it herself.
That morning she was a bit hasty, dismissing them almost as soon as they finished, though she did try to offer each one a kind word to soften the blow. They left giggling, and Sera walked out into the garden, setting off down the path with purpose. It was drab and gray in the pre-dawn, too dark to appreciate the array of flowers and exotic plants, yet too light for the glittering of fireflies to still be about. It was a good thing. There would be no distractions to convince her to put this meeting off for one more day.
The way between her palace and the king's was somewhat long. The sky had lightened considerably by the time she approached his rooms. The lights were still lit, so he present; her ear didn't detect any other voices, so she hoped he was alone.
"Enter," came his voice when she rapped softly on the door. It sounded tired, and when she came into the room and saw the shadows under his eyes, she bit her lip. "Sera... is there a problem?"
She shook her head wordlessly and bowed. Her hands clasped tightly.
He didn't say anything at first, except to ask her to come closer. Everyone knew he didn't like idleness, or wasting time, and had only contempt for hesitation, which he percieved as weakness. But she hadn't known him to snap at her yet, and though she kept her eyes averted, she knew he was examining her closely. His eyes had a way about them that pierced straight to the heart, like jade daggers, to draw blood.
She nearly flinched when his hand rested on her head, to stroke her hair. "Something /is/ wrong," he said softly. "Won't you tell me?"
Sera quivered under his attention, biting almost hard enough to draw blood from her lip. The room blurred before her eyes, and she shook her head convulsively, before giving in and pressing her face to his shoulder with a cry.
"Shhh." He held her hesitantly, stroking her hair in silence for another moment. "Enryuu Village. Am I right?"
She nodded against his shoulder, clinging to him tightly, and wanted to ask why. her throat felt choked up, but he was very perceptive. He knew.
"They were rebels, Sera. It had to be done." There was no remorse in his voice; she thought he could be right, but such things always turned her stomach. The mere thought of their blood soaking into the dirt, of the crying of children ripped from their parents' arms - she choked back her sobs, but couldn't stop the tears.
It had to be done? He said it, so it must be true. But she couldn't believe.
- - - - -
Word: resolute (#136)
Time: 14 minutes.
Notes: based on SPPM, which is based on Suikoden. I refuse to let any of these be normal.
"So." Elsa glanced idly out the window, arms crossed and wine glass cupped in one hand. It was a good red. She detected no bitterness to indicate poison, but she would put nothing past the man. They weren't where they were today because they had scruples. "How much did you know?"
"About the Masked Bishop?" She imagined Lovelle shrugged, but it wasn't dark enough outside for her to see his reflection in the glass. "As much as anyone. Surely not half as much as you did, Lady Mercade."
She breathed a laugh, gazing into her wine. "As if someone in my position had the resources to ferret out his secrets."
There was a pause. She felt more than heard him approach, but he did not come close. "Your newest title is quite impressive for a woman with no resources."
Elsa glanced at him from the corner of her eye, but his face betrayed nothing. Just the nonchalant arch of one eyebrow, an expression he had somehow learned to put volumes of subtlety into, that she wasn't quite sure she knew how to read. Not yet. She was familiar with many of the other bishops, especially the ones with a more traditional agenda, as her father preferred to ally himself with them. Of Lovelle, she had seen almost nothing until now.
"We shouldn't mince words, my lady," he said. "Surely you didn't come to accuse me of complicity."
"No." She turned on her heel to examine him more openly. It was tempting to take a sip, but trust was in short supply these days. "I wanted to discuss something with you. He brings the Masked Bishop to mind, you see, and I was merely curious about your thoughts on the matter."
There; both eyebrows shot up, and she knew he was surprised. Precious little else would have told her. He was what she'd call 'inscrutable' most days. He'd be a fair hand at cards, she thought, just for his ability to conceal his thoughts. Humans relied so much on visual cues to socialize.
"And what is your interest in him?" he asked after a slightly protracted pause.
Elsa gave him a level look. "The same as yours, I think. I've noticed which direction your votes have been leaning lately. Gabriev nearly had a fit when you turned the vote against his last proposal."
A ghost of a smile flitted across his face and made it almost handsome. She wondered what candlelight would do for him, and whether she should make an effort to find out after all.
- - - - -
15minuteficlets once again. It makes a good exercise, and I like that it doesn't require much effort. :P I really should go to bed.Word: whispered (#139)
Time: 16 minutes
Notes: original, wtfverse with
kartia, etc.The summons slithered through the palace in whispers until it reached Gabriel. No one would speak directly to her, even though she had returned with the Regent, safe behind the authority of his blessing. They probably thought trechery was contagious. Reflecting on the last stretch of Samael's campaign, she couldn't blame them. It had spread through the ranks the way epidemics decimated human settlements.
It stayed that way for years, too many for her to bother counting, until finally a call had come from behind the veil. She walked instead of flying, because she felt a little unsteady. It was no great distance from the library, where she took refuge in place of her normal position by the throne.
The others didn't think she would ever be in favor again. It was easy to tell by their glances. Maybe they thought it was her death march, and she wasn't sure they were wrong. Or perhaps an appointment with Uriel was waiting for her, and she would only wish for the supposed peace of non-existence. There was no real precedent for punishing her kind, but it happened on occasion. She didn't like to remember them.
The hour of silence descended before she reached the dais. For the first time in as long as she could remember, no one else stood around the veil to watch her approach except for Michael, and his gaze was wary, and his lips thin with tension. He motioned for her to pass and parted the veil so she could step up gracefully.
Eyes down, she sank to one knee as she had often seen Metatron do, and bowed low, not daring to rise once she lowered her head. There were things to say, ceremonial greetings and obeisance that she should make. Uncertainty froze her tongue, and she said nothing.
Then she felt the opening of her mind, and the flood of her memories, and knew why he summoned her. She would have begged for Uriel's fire if only she could speak.
- - - - -
Word: routine (#138)
Time: ~17 minutes. God forbid I actually stop at fifteen.
Notes: wtfverse based on Twelve Kingdoms and Suikoden. Don't ask. Plan of Ultimate Evil, etc. Sarah = kirin, Luc = king. It boggles even my mind, really.
Sera woke before dawn most days to prepare for the morning audience. Though she had no preferences to speak of, her attendants seemed to enjoy draping her in fine silks and fashionable dresses from Han - it seemed there was a new one every day, but she wasn't very good at keeping track of such things. She simply allowed them their play, and sat still for them to comb her hair, which she truly was grateful for. It nearly reached the floor, and her arms ached whenever she tried to brush it herself.
That morning she was a bit hasty, dismissing them almost as soon as they finished, though she did try to offer each one a kind word to soften the blow. They left giggling, and Sera walked out into the garden, setting off down the path with purpose. It was drab and gray in the pre-dawn, too dark to appreciate the array of flowers and exotic plants, yet too light for the glittering of fireflies to still be about. It was a good thing. There would be no distractions to convince her to put this meeting off for one more day.
The way between her palace and the king's was somewhat long. The sky had lightened considerably by the time she approached his rooms. The lights were still lit, so he present; her ear didn't detect any other voices, so she hoped he was alone.
"Enter," came his voice when she rapped softly on the door. It sounded tired, and when she came into the room and saw the shadows under his eyes, she bit her lip. "Sera... is there a problem?"
She shook her head wordlessly and bowed. Her hands clasped tightly.
He didn't say anything at first, except to ask her to come closer. Everyone knew he didn't like idleness, or wasting time, and had only contempt for hesitation, which he percieved as weakness. But she hadn't known him to snap at her yet, and though she kept her eyes averted, she knew he was examining her closely. His eyes had a way about them that pierced straight to the heart, like jade daggers, to draw blood.
She nearly flinched when his hand rested on her head, to stroke her hair. "Something /is/ wrong," he said softly. "Won't you tell me?"
Sera quivered under his attention, biting almost hard enough to draw blood from her lip. The room blurred before her eyes, and she shook her head convulsively, before giving in and pressing her face to his shoulder with a cry.
"Shhh." He held her hesitantly, stroking her hair in silence for another moment. "Enryuu Village. Am I right?"
She nodded against his shoulder, clinging to him tightly, and wanted to ask why. her throat felt choked up, but he was very perceptive. He knew.
"They were rebels, Sera. It had to be done." There was no remorse in his voice; she thought he could be right, but such things always turned her stomach. The mere thought of their blood soaking into the dirt, of the crying of children ripped from their parents' arms - she choked back her sobs, but couldn't stop the tears.
It had to be done? He said it, so it must be true. But she couldn't believe.
- - - - -
Word: resolute (#136)
Time: 14 minutes.
Notes: based on SPPM, which is based on Suikoden. I refuse to let any of these be normal.
"So." Elsa glanced idly out the window, arms crossed and wine glass cupped in one hand. It was a good red. She detected no bitterness to indicate poison, but she would put nothing past the man. They weren't where they were today because they had scruples. "How much did you know?"
"About the Masked Bishop?" She imagined Lovelle shrugged, but it wasn't dark enough outside for her to see his reflection in the glass. "As much as anyone. Surely not half as much as you did, Lady Mercade."
She breathed a laugh, gazing into her wine. "As if someone in my position had the resources to ferret out his secrets."
There was a pause. She felt more than heard him approach, but he did not come close. "Your newest title is quite impressive for a woman with no resources."
Elsa glanced at him from the corner of her eye, but his face betrayed nothing. Just the nonchalant arch of one eyebrow, an expression he had somehow learned to put volumes of subtlety into, that she wasn't quite sure she knew how to read. Not yet. She was familiar with many of the other bishops, especially the ones with a more traditional agenda, as her father preferred to ally himself with them. Of Lovelle, she had seen almost nothing until now.
"We shouldn't mince words, my lady," he said. "Surely you didn't come to accuse me of complicity."
"No." She turned on her heel to examine him more openly. It was tempting to take a sip, but trust was in short supply these days. "I wanted to discuss something with you. He brings the Masked Bishop to mind, you see, and I was merely curious about your thoughts on the matter."
There; both eyebrows shot up, and she knew he was surprised. Precious little else would have told her. He was what she'd call 'inscrutable' most days. He'd be a fair hand at cards, she thought, just for his ability to conceal his thoughts. Humans relied so much on visual cues to socialize.
"And what is your interest in him?" he asked after a slightly protracted pause.
Elsa gave him a level look. "The same as yours, I think. I've noticed which direction your votes have been leaning lately. Gabriev nearly had a fit when you turned the vote against his last proposal."
A ghost of a smile flitted across his face and made it almost handsome. She wondered what candlelight would do for him, and whether she should make an effort to find out after all.
- - - - -
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-03-08 01:45 pm (UTC)So, yeah. Thanks for the story.
Rina
no subject
Date: 2006-03-08 10:13 pm (UTC)rp logs
Date: 2006-03-16 02:05 am (UTC)Re: rp logs
Date: 2006-03-16 03:29 am (UTC)There are still about ten in my current log directory (). I'd read them in order of the numbers; 'ph' stands for Phoenix MUCK, and 'suiko' for a private MU* we were on for a while. Different storylines. Phoenix was kind of on crack, as you'll see, but if you don't mind that...