Post by Seek on May 13, 2013 7:33:07 GMT 10
Title: Black Stones
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 550 words.
Pairing: Alanna/Jonathan
Round/Fight: 2A
Summary: AU, Jon and Alanna release something else from the Black City. This comes back to haunt them...
Warnings: Very, very dark.
-
The city sleeps, uneasily.
The black stone is not glossy; it soaks in the heat of the desert sun and the light itself. It is the blackness that devours everything, even the rays of the desert sun.
It has been years since the Night One and the Burning-Brightly One have gone to the Black City, and fought the horrors that dwelled within, the Ysandir, the devourers of children, the scourge of the Bazhir.
Alhaz scowls at the edge of the dead zone, and adjusts his grip on his spear. Being at the edge of the dead zone is enough to make a grown Bazhir man nervous, though he’ll never admit as much. His mare, Shayeera, nickers and nudges at him. She, too, is uneasy.
The Bazhir once built Persopolis to keep an eternal watch on the Black City; now, the tents are pitched ten horse-lengths away from Persopolis, the line of defense shifted forwards. They cannot defend Persopolis. The city must be the last line of retreat. Alhaz stares across the distance, across the dry, endless sands at the dark spot on the horizon.
And then he hears it.
-
The earth judders and bucks with titanic force. Like the clash, Alanna thinks, of two knights on horseback. She’s been taught to joust, and she’s fought from horseback before and there’s something about the forces shuddering through the earth beneath her feet that reminds her of the thunderous crash and splintering of lances.
She grips her ember stone. To her eyes, the eath bleeds a a rusty red, the red of blood that dries and flakes off a shield’s surface.
Roger, she thinks, although she has absolutely no reason to know it is him yet Alanna is sure.
For a single moment, Alanna hesitates.
Black bleeds into the flagstones beneath her feet.
-
Alanna hesitates.
And really, that’s all it takes. The stone is a familiar black, the sort that draws in the gaze, inward and inward infinitely.
It’s the black that Alanna sees, in fireplace visions, in the fractured sliver of steel before a sword clears its scabbard completely.
It’s the black of her nightmares.
“Jon!” Alanna shouts.
-
The Bazhir are screaming, crying out in Jon’s head.
-
The crossbowman steadies himself and takes aim. George Cooper slams into him, and the bolt goes wide. George comes up on his feet, his dagger dripping.
The crossbowman stays down.
-
The battered crystal on Lightning’s hilt blazes with violet fire. Alanna doesn’t hesitate, running for the dais because the whole kingdom depends on her, hand going to the pouch tied to her belt. A swordsman in Eldorne colours attempts to intercept her; a crossbow bolt buries itself in his throat. She doesn’t turn back to give George something so much as a salute of acknowledgement.
The earth threatens to tear itself apart beneath her feet. She picks her way across scattered and broken stones, black threads weaving themselves into the floor. “Jon!” she cries out again, and then manages to thrust the Dominion Jewel into his outstretched hands.
“The Bazhir,” he says, and there’s something shattered even in his calm blue gaze. “Alanna, the Bazhir. They’re screaming a warning.”
The moment Jon touches it, the Dominion Jewel blazes with indigo light.
“Then we’ll fight back,” Alanna replies, without hesitation.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 550 words.
Pairing: Alanna/Jonathan
Round/Fight: 2A
Summary: AU, Jon and Alanna release something else from the Black City. This comes back to haunt them...
Warnings: Very, very dark.
-
The city sleeps, uneasily.
The black stone is not glossy; it soaks in the heat of the desert sun and the light itself. It is the blackness that devours everything, even the rays of the desert sun.
It has been years since the Night One and the Burning-Brightly One have gone to the Black City, and fought the horrors that dwelled within, the Ysandir, the devourers of children, the scourge of the Bazhir.
Alhaz scowls at the edge of the dead zone, and adjusts his grip on his spear. Being at the edge of the dead zone is enough to make a grown Bazhir man nervous, though he’ll never admit as much. His mare, Shayeera, nickers and nudges at him. She, too, is uneasy.
The Bazhir once built Persopolis to keep an eternal watch on the Black City; now, the tents are pitched ten horse-lengths away from Persopolis, the line of defense shifted forwards. They cannot defend Persopolis. The city must be the last line of retreat. Alhaz stares across the distance, across the dry, endless sands at the dark spot on the horizon.
And then he hears it.
-
The earth judders and bucks with titanic force. Like the clash, Alanna thinks, of two knights on horseback. She’s been taught to joust, and she’s fought from horseback before and there’s something about the forces shuddering through the earth beneath her feet that reminds her of the thunderous crash and splintering of lances.
She grips her ember stone. To her eyes, the eath bleeds a a rusty red, the red of blood that dries and flakes off a shield’s surface.
Roger, she thinks, although she has absolutely no reason to know it is him yet Alanna is sure.
For a single moment, Alanna hesitates.
Black bleeds into the flagstones beneath her feet.
-
Alanna hesitates.
And really, that’s all it takes. The stone is a familiar black, the sort that draws in the gaze, inward and inward infinitely.
It’s the black that Alanna sees, in fireplace visions, in the fractured sliver of steel before a sword clears its scabbard completely.
It’s the black of her nightmares.
“Jon!” Alanna shouts.
-
The Bazhir are screaming, crying out in Jon’s head.
-
The crossbowman steadies himself and takes aim. George Cooper slams into him, and the bolt goes wide. George comes up on his feet, his dagger dripping.
The crossbowman stays down.
-
The battered crystal on Lightning’s hilt blazes with violet fire. Alanna doesn’t hesitate, running for the dais because the whole kingdom depends on her, hand going to the pouch tied to her belt. A swordsman in Eldorne colours attempts to intercept her; a crossbow bolt buries itself in his throat. She doesn’t turn back to give George something so much as a salute of acknowledgement.
The earth threatens to tear itself apart beneath her feet. She picks her way across scattered and broken stones, black threads weaving themselves into the floor. “Jon!” she cries out again, and then manages to thrust the Dominion Jewel into his outstretched hands.
“The Bazhir,” he says, and there’s something shattered even in his calm blue gaze. “Alanna, the Bazhir. They’re screaming a warning.”
The moment Jon touches it, the Dominion Jewel blazes with indigo light.
“Then we’ll fight back,” Alanna replies, without hesitation.