Post by Muse on Dec 2, 2012 16:54:36 GMT 10
Title: Home is Where the Heart Is
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: #1-- Homecoming
Summary: They were correct, when later on they said his heart wasn't in it.
Warning: Canon-character death.
Notes: This plot-bunny ended up much more oblique than intended. Take it how you will.
Kudos to chat for the encouragement~!
Outrage clouded his sensibilities at the time; later, when he cooled off, Roger regretted the unrestrained violence of his emotions and the way in which they drove him to distraction. The results, however, could not have been more perfect.
In the moment, the sheer chill of Alanna’s purple glare as her blade slid cleanly home froze Roger where he stood. The pulse of his heart around her sword drove a hysterical shout of laughter burbling wetly up from his chest. Knees buckling, Roger gasped in increasingly shallow breaths; when his shoulder hit the ground, Roger felt nothing but the force of the impact.
Around him, the orange light of his gift pulsed brighter and brighter, slower and slower, until it stopped and dissipated.
Roger noticed this for the split-second between his final heartbeat and blackness.
~~~~
The return of sensation was what pulled Roger out of that blackness.
Cold seeped from smooth marble into the slack muscles of calves, thighs, and back. Calmly, Roger sat straight up and surveyed his surroundings.
Darkness.
Turning, he pushed himself up and off of the bier, leaving the vacant body of the Duke of Conte lying motionless, hands folded on its stomach.
“Tsk, tsk, little Lioness.”
Roger’s voice echoed soundlessly inside the funereal vault, dedicated to the person that his doddering uncle had thought was his nephew. The corpse, predictably, did nothing in response.
No matter. Roger’s eyes simply observed the body, pitiless and unremorseful. It wasn’t as though he needed it, anymore.
Roger had other plans to make.
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: #1-- Homecoming
Summary: They were correct, when later on they said his heart wasn't in it.
Warning: Canon-character death.
Notes: This plot-bunny ended up much more oblique than intended. Take it how you will.
Kudos to chat for the encouragement~!
Outrage clouded his sensibilities at the time; later, when he cooled off, Roger regretted the unrestrained violence of his emotions and the way in which they drove him to distraction. The results, however, could not have been more perfect.
In the moment, the sheer chill of Alanna’s purple glare as her blade slid cleanly home froze Roger where he stood. The pulse of his heart around her sword drove a hysterical shout of laughter burbling wetly up from his chest. Knees buckling, Roger gasped in increasingly shallow breaths; when his shoulder hit the ground, Roger felt nothing but the force of the impact.
Around him, the orange light of his gift pulsed brighter and brighter, slower and slower, until it stopped and dissipated.
Roger noticed this for the split-second between his final heartbeat and blackness.
~~~~
The return of sensation was what pulled Roger out of that blackness.
Cold seeped from smooth marble into the slack muscles of calves, thighs, and back. Calmly, Roger sat straight up and surveyed his surroundings.
Darkness.
Turning, he pushed himself up and off of the bier, leaving the vacant body of the Duke of Conte lying motionless, hands folded on its stomach.
“Tsk, tsk, little Lioness.”
Roger’s voice echoed soundlessly inside the funereal vault, dedicated to the person that his doddering uncle had thought was his nephew. The corpse, predictably, did nothing in response.
No matter. Roger’s eyes simply observed the body, pitiless and unremorseful. It wasn’t as though he needed it, anymore.
Roger had other plans to make.