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shatterverse2008-01-25 10:32 pm
notanoptimist.livejournal.com) wrote in shatterverse2008-01-25 10:32 pm
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(no subject)
OOC: [HI I'M BACK AND I BRING THE GIFT OF ANGST < 3 But I'll do real stuff soon, too, I promise.]
The wall is cold and solid where Sokka crouches, sitting and thinking and waiting for nothing. He's a man by the standards of his tribe and feels one, too, with his weapons of stone and bone, a necklace of the same, linen wraps and leather boots. And when the monster comes, leaping over the wall to start idle conversation that can lead to nothing good, he knows exactly what to do.
Wham!
Nothing's ever felt so good than watching that skinny, spectacled boy go flying backward off a hundred foot wall.
He's back soon enough, talking and taunting - don't talk about my sister - but they waste no time. Both have weapons and both use them skillfully. One has eons worth of dreams and training, a supernatural strength on his side. The other has very little beyond a club and a knife.
Save for hatred, and a thirst for revenge.
I wanted to know why she replaced me with you, the monster says. It's because we were both weak -- and she thought she could take care of both of us. But-- you got stronger then me.
He hates him in that moment, more than any other, more than finding his friends and family beaten and broken at the creature's feet, more than any other comment. Because this is a taunt of his wildest dream, wanting to be better, wanting to protect, and he can't tell if it is a taunt or if it's an honest observation.
But when has the monster ever been honest?
When I speak, you should listen closely. I don't lie half as often as I speak the truth.
Bullshit.
It's knees crack, the monster's, and he's down, he isn't getting up, he tells Sokka, Sokka the Warrior, how to kill him and the Warrior raises his club. But something stops him, something icy cold and strong, grabs his weapon and holds it still. It looks at him with innocent blue eyes, looks at him from a gold cage that she's reached through to stop him and begs him Don't kill the monster, don't do it, please but she can't give him a good reason why.
And he wants to argue but she walks out of the cage, away from the gold, and stands in front of him. She helps the monster up, watches impassively when it strikes at the Warrior, makes no comment when the Warrior-- no, the boy, he's smaller now, dressing up in his father's gear - when the boy starts to bleed. She lets the monster go and she waves to him, smiling fondly.
And when she turns back to the boy, her eyes are brimming with tears. Are you hurt? Let me heal you.
He tries to move away from her but his feet are stuck to the floor. His wounds disappear and it's like nothing's ever happened. She smiles and turns away from him to address the growing crowd - the monster was here but the Warrior was so kind, he let him go, he believes in her and thinks they should, too.
The boy believes no such thing, but he can't find the words to argue when those blue eyes look at him again.
Sokka wakes with a gasp, lying on his back and staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. His hands lift and he starts to rub at his face, heels of his palms pushing into his eyes, trying to force the innocent blue out of his mind.
OOC: [Based on this scene from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
apharsites.]
The wall is cold and solid where Sokka crouches, sitting and thinking and waiting for nothing. He's a man by the standards of his tribe and feels one, too, with his weapons of stone and bone, a necklace of the same, linen wraps and leather boots. And when the monster comes, leaping over the wall to start idle conversation that can lead to nothing good, he knows exactly what to do.
Wham!
Nothing's ever felt so good than watching that skinny, spectacled boy go flying backward off a hundred foot wall.
He's back soon enough, talking and taunting - don't talk about my sister - but they waste no time. Both have weapons and both use them skillfully. One has eons worth of dreams and training, a supernatural strength on his side. The other has very little beyond a club and a knife.
Save for hatred, and a thirst for revenge.
I wanted to know why she replaced me with you, the monster says. It's because we were both weak -- and she thought she could take care of both of us. But-- you got stronger then me.
He hates him in that moment, more than any other, more than finding his friends and family beaten and broken at the creature's feet, more than any other comment. Because this is a taunt of his wildest dream, wanting to be better, wanting to protect, and he can't tell if it is a taunt or if it's an honest observation.
But when has the monster ever been honest?
When I speak, you should listen closely. I don't lie half as often as I speak the truth.
Bullshit.
It's knees crack, the monster's, and he's down, he isn't getting up, he tells Sokka, Sokka the Warrior, how to kill him and the Warrior raises his club. But something stops him, something icy cold and strong, grabs his weapon and holds it still. It looks at him with innocent blue eyes, looks at him from a gold cage that she's reached through to stop him and begs him Don't kill the monster, don't do it, please but she can't give him a good reason why.
And he wants to argue but she walks out of the cage, away from the gold, and stands in front of him. She helps the monster up, watches impassively when it strikes at the Warrior, makes no comment when the Warrior-- no, the boy, he's smaller now, dressing up in his father's gear - when the boy starts to bleed. She lets the monster go and she waves to him, smiling fondly.
And when she turns back to the boy, her eyes are brimming with tears. Are you hurt? Let me heal you.
He tries to move away from her but his feet are stuck to the floor. His wounds disappear and it's like nothing's ever happened. She smiles and turns away from him to address the growing crowd - the monster was here but the Warrior was so kind, he let him go, he believes in her and thinks they should, too.
The boy believes no such thing, but he can't find the words to argue when those blue eyes look at him again.
Sokka wakes with a gasp, lying on his back and staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. His hands lift and he starts to rub at his face, heels of his palms pushing into his eyes, trying to force the innocent blue out of his mind.
OOC: [Based on this scene from
apharsites.]
no subject