Drabbles -- AtS; DS9; SG-1
Oct. 10th, 2004 08:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
butterflyBecause it's been a while since I've written any fanfic, I've decided to take some time and write both short and long(er). The short would be drabble-length (100 words, not including the title), and oh, look, I have some in this post, right now. I'm going to try to write a couple of drabbles each night and also work on some of my WIPs at the same time (yes, one day, Diamondback will be finished!).
So, tonight, you get three drabbles on the theme of rain. Lucky you.
Beautiful Day
Spike ducked into an alley, watching the full-blood demons scamper off as the sun started to shine weakly through the early morning cloud-cover.
The right sleeve of his coat had torn off during the fight. He hadn't had the chance to deal with the problem, so he'd spent the night fighting with one arm soaked to the skin with bloody rain and the other shielded from the worst of the gore by the leather. It felt disgusting and wonderful, like all the nightmares he'd wished for so hard when he'd first been chipped.
There was a poem in that somewhere.
Gloaming
Still raining. Perhaps Miles had meant this as some form of punishment?
Julian blinked hard, trying to find Miles somewhere in the darkness. Finally, he spotted the blasted man, reclining against the grass like the rain wasn't pelting down hard enough to leave little aches wherever it hit.
"You might not be able to catch a cold from spending your days soaked to the skin, but it can't be comfortable," Julian said. Miles shrugged. He'd been understandably uncommunicative since Julian had arrived, and it was beginning to feel almost normal.
Universal and individual, grief was one of nature's nastier paradoxes.
Desert Rose
Shamda had once asked Arrom why he enjoyed the rain.
Arrom had blinked thoughtfully, the space between his eyebrows crinkling like a falling pillar, and said merely that it made him think of nothing.
Afterwards, there had been a long silence, broken only by the soft dripping. After some time, Shamda had heard the faint, familiar sounds of Charedi calling out for his wife, who often took advantage of the rain to escape to the distant river-caves.
Arrom had stayed still, eyes closed and his mouth slightly open, face tilted up, embracing the rain.
Happy because he thought of nothing.
So, tonight, you get three drabbles on the theme of rain. Lucky you.
Beautiful Day
Spike ducked into an alley, watching the full-blood demons scamper off as the sun started to shine weakly through the early morning cloud-cover.
The right sleeve of his coat had torn off during the fight. He hadn't had the chance to deal with the problem, so he'd spent the night fighting with one arm soaked to the skin with bloody rain and the other shielded from the worst of the gore by the leather. It felt disgusting and wonderful, like all the nightmares he'd wished for so hard when he'd first been chipped.
There was a poem in that somewhere.
Gloaming
Still raining. Perhaps Miles had meant this as some form of punishment?
Julian blinked hard, trying to find Miles somewhere in the darkness. Finally, he spotted the blasted man, reclining against the grass like the rain wasn't pelting down hard enough to leave little aches wherever it hit.
"You might not be able to catch a cold from spending your days soaked to the skin, but it can't be comfortable," Julian said. Miles shrugged. He'd been understandably uncommunicative since Julian had arrived, and it was beginning to feel almost normal.
Universal and individual, grief was one of nature's nastier paradoxes.
Desert Rose
Shamda had once asked Arrom why he enjoyed the rain.
Arrom had blinked thoughtfully, the space between his eyebrows crinkling like a falling pillar, and said merely that it made him think of nothing.
Afterwards, there had been a long silence, broken only by the soft dripping. After some time, Shamda had heard the faint, familiar sounds of Charedi calling out for his wife, who often took advantage of the rain to escape to the distant river-caves.
Arrom had stayed still, eyes closed and his mouth slightly open, face tilted up, embracing the rain.
Happy because he thought of nothing.
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Date: 2004-10-11 05:12 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-10-15 08:40 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-10-11 01:46 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-10-15 08:40 am (UTC)