Post by Seek on Apr 4, 2015 19:37:44 GMT 10
Series: A Pale View of Hills
Title: When We Were Executioners
Rating: R
Event: 200 Freestyle
Competition: Decathlon
Words: 316 words
Summary: Mattes makes a very difficult decision when Clary is out of action. Warning: dark.
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Mattes hesitated. But sometimes, you had to make that decision, as a Dog. Sometimes it weren’t worth your neck to bring in a murderer, to see him dance before the magistrate.
(Clary. He thought of her then, being given the Drink as many times as she could stand, spilling into his arms like water as he cut her free, caught her.)
The first law of the Dogs; the law above all laws: you do not leave your partner in the scummer.
His arm flexed. The dagger moved. A simple, sharp gesture.
Later, he poured oil on the ground. It was a simple task; the kitchen was well-stocked and for all the bastard was wealthy, the flooring of the house was made from wood, not stone. Do what you need to, the Watch Commander had said, wearily turning away. Of course, it was always easier to ask a barbarian to be the knife. Mattes found he didn’t particularly care.
He struck the match, tossed it over his shoulder, stepped away. The house behind him went up in a rush of furious flames; he felt the heat against his skin, even as he watched from a distance. Perhaps there was a cry; still, he’d checked and made sure the house was empty. Droman had kept a cat; a fluffy white thing. It had clawed at him angrily as he brought it outside of the prospective blaze.
He watched as the last remnants of the crime burned with the house. There was no going back; no more crime committed, once someone went back to stir the dead ashes. Ashes were no evidence, and Dogs knew very well how to leave no traces.
The rain came after, cleansing the stench of smoke from the dying fires.
As he walked away into the night, carrying a cat under his arm, Mattes looked up and saw, through the clouds, the distant stars.
Title: When We Were Executioners
Rating: R
Event: 200 Freestyle
Competition: Decathlon
Words: 316 words
Summary: Mattes makes a very difficult decision when Clary is out of action. Warning: dark.
-
Mattes hesitated. But sometimes, you had to make that decision, as a Dog. Sometimes it weren’t worth your neck to bring in a murderer, to see him dance before the magistrate.
(Clary. He thought of her then, being given the Drink as many times as she could stand, spilling into his arms like water as he cut her free, caught her.)
The first law of the Dogs; the law above all laws: you do not leave your partner in the scummer.
His arm flexed. The dagger moved. A simple, sharp gesture.
Later, he poured oil on the ground. It was a simple task; the kitchen was well-stocked and for all the bastard was wealthy, the flooring of the house was made from wood, not stone. Do what you need to, the Watch Commander had said, wearily turning away. Of course, it was always easier to ask a barbarian to be the knife. Mattes found he didn’t particularly care.
He struck the match, tossed it over his shoulder, stepped away. The house behind him went up in a rush of furious flames; he felt the heat against his skin, even as he watched from a distance. Perhaps there was a cry; still, he’d checked and made sure the house was empty. Droman had kept a cat; a fluffy white thing. It had clawed at him angrily as he brought it outside of the prospective blaze.
He watched as the last remnants of the crime burned with the house. There was no going back; no more crime committed, once someone went back to stir the dead ashes. Ashes were no evidence, and Dogs knew very well how to leave no traces.
The rain came after, cleansing the stench of smoke from the dying fires.
As he walked away into the night, carrying a cat under his arm, Mattes looked up and saw, through the clouds, the distant stars.