Post by infinite on Apr 26, 2011 11:13:55 GMT 10
Title: Shellshock
Rating: PG
Word Count: 290
Pairing: Gary/Raoul – Team Moustache Curtains
Round/Fight: 2/C
Summary: Raoul should have been the first to go. Warning: character death.
Raoul had always expected to die first. In a way, the knowledge had comforted him. Now, he had no comfort. It made no sense that he, prostrate before death all his adult life, had outlived the one constant he had known; the one person who had seemed the safest. The agony he had always assumed would be Gary’s, was now his own.
After all his years at war, this was his moment of shellshock: in a time and a place of peace, where Gary’s death was a perversion. Not on the battlefield, but at the palace. Gary’s domain, now with no Gary to inhabit it. Raoul felt like a mage-blast had detonated within him, made all the more destructive for its confinement. He was guilty. He lived, when he should have died long ago. Killed by a spidren, a giant, Blayce’s machines, bandits, landslides, centaurs, hurroks, pirates, Scanrans, on the River Drell, rebels, the snake of a God, swords, clubs, axes, arrows, a tournament gone too far, traitors, floods, soldiers, wounds. The Kraken. He had been intimate with violence, where Gary had engaged only in a passing acquaintance. He had been seduced, where Gary politely declined. Yet he, Raoul, had escaped, and Gary had not. Raoul lived, Alanna lived, Jon lived, where Gary, who by any reasoning should have been the safest, did not.
Raoul insisted on seeing the body. He had seen dead bodies before, and on a regular basis. But here, there was no blood, no muddy face, no twist of terror, no screaming limbs. Gary looked the same as he always had, just one layer removed, as if he had been shellacked over. That day, and others, Raoul longed for combat, where death made sense.
QC: by Cassandra
Rating: PG
Word Count: 290
Pairing: Gary/Raoul – Team Moustache Curtains
Round/Fight: 2/C
Summary: Raoul should have been the first to go. Warning: character death.
Raoul had always expected to die first. In a way, the knowledge had comforted him. Now, he had no comfort. It made no sense that he, prostrate before death all his adult life, had outlived the one constant he had known; the one person who had seemed the safest. The agony he had always assumed would be Gary’s, was now his own.
After all his years at war, this was his moment of shellshock: in a time and a place of peace, where Gary’s death was a perversion. Not on the battlefield, but at the palace. Gary’s domain, now with no Gary to inhabit it. Raoul felt like a mage-blast had detonated within him, made all the more destructive for its confinement. He was guilty. He lived, when he should have died long ago. Killed by a spidren, a giant, Blayce’s machines, bandits, landslides, centaurs, hurroks, pirates, Scanrans, on the River Drell, rebels, the snake of a God, swords, clubs, axes, arrows, a tournament gone too far, traitors, floods, soldiers, wounds. The Kraken. He had been intimate with violence, where Gary had engaged only in a passing acquaintance. He had been seduced, where Gary politely declined. Yet he, Raoul, had escaped, and Gary had not. Raoul lived, Alanna lived, Jon lived, where Gary, who by any reasoning should have been the safest, did not.
Raoul insisted on seeing the body. He had seen dead bodies before, and on a regular basis. But here, there was no blood, no muddy face, no twist of terror, no screaming limbs. Gary looked the same as he always had, just one layer removed, as if he had been shellacked over. That day, and others, Raoul longed for combat, where death made sense.
QC: by Cassandra
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!