Post by Seek on May 14, 2013 5:35:09 GMT 10
Title: Circle
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 613 words.
Pairing: Alanna/Jonathan
Round/Fight: 2A
Summary: AU, set in the Barren Boughs and Dry Stones universe, which is the same universe that The Dead Land is set in. Alanna draws a circle.
Warnings: Very, very dark.
Note: Lightning never shattered, in this universe.
-
Because their hands are linked, Alanna sees the complex tapestry of magic that Jon is weaving, stark bright, even against her closed eyelids. The earth bleeds a dark rust-red, and Jon weaves a net of bright indigo-violet-blue-silver to bind the earth, to hold it together and to counter Roger’s spell.
But the blackness creeps in, slithering through the flagstones at their feet, and Alanna is dead certain that Roger’s magic doesn’t do that. She strikes out at it, sending a flare of violet power at the slick darkness that coats the flagstones near the entrance of the chapel and even now, advances upon them.
People scream, clearing and scattering from the advancing blackness. She hears the sound of steel clashing, people dying, but Alanna forces all of that away. She is a knight, and she yearns so much to fight the battle she does understand but Jon needs her, and she knows that together, they form Tortall’s best defence against magery.
Except Thom. Where’s Thom?
Her magic strikes the advancing wave of blackened, glossy stone with no effect. It dissolves and is sucked in by the stone. Alanna gasps and wrenches herself away before it can drain more of her Gift.
It steals the Gift. It can’t be stopped, and the moment it advances to where they are standing, it’ll drain all of their Gifts, all at once, and then Roger’s spell will tear and shatter the earth—how is he doing it?—and so she can’t let that happen.
Jaw set, Alanna steps forward. Jon blinks in alarm but doesn’t warn her; she knows that she can’t let go now, and his grip on her hand is reassuring, anyway. With her free hand, she releases the ember stone; it’s shown her nothing useful about the blackness, and perhaps that is telling in and of itself. She draws Lightning with her free hand, notices to her surprise that the crystal is incandescent with light, now.
How—why—?
Still, Alanna reverses her grip on Lightning, one-handed, and with the sword point down, traces a circle on the flagstones. Violet fire follows the path her blade traces. Jon notices what she is doing then, and bright blue fire burns its way after, counter-clockwise, in the opposite direction. Their Gifts meet and then the circle closes. The wall blazes into life, shifting with the multiple colours of the magic feeding it. Once, they raised a wall when fighting the Ysandir. Now, with far more experience at directing their Gifts, the shield follows the circle she traces with Lightning’s hilt.
Alanna blinks. Not quite.
Threads of light connect the glowing crystal set in Lightning’s hilt, and their shield. The blackness spreads like oil and speeds up, sliding across the flagstones, down the aisle, towards where the wall that Alanna has erected with the help of Lightning.
Alanna grits her teeth; the blackness tugs, and through the shield, she can feel the coldness sucking at her bones, drawing upon her Gift, but something stops it. Maybe it’s Lightning, maybe it’s the fact she completed the shielding circle, but either way, she doesn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Thank the Goddess. It had been a last ditch effort, nothing more.
Jon looks at her. “I need it all,” he says, quietly. She can read the strain in his eyes, in his voice, in the knotted desperation of his fingers and shoulders. “Gods, Alanna. He’s crunching through everything as fast as I can bring defenses up.”
“Do it,” Alanna says, and in that moment, she gives him permission.
Jon draws, yanks power from her so rapidly that she almost falls over flat on her nose.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 613 words.
Pairing: Alanna/Jonathan
Round/Fight: 2A
Summary: AU, set in the Barren Boughs and Dry Stones universe, which is the same universe that The Dead Land is set in. Alanna draws a circle.
Warnings: Very, very dark.
Note: Lightning never shattered, in this universe.
-
Because their hands are linked, Alanna sees the complex tapestry of magic that Jon is weaving, stark bright, even against her closed eyelids. The earth bleeds a dark rust-red, and Jon weaves a net of bright indigo-violet-blue-silver to bind the earth, to hold it together and to counter Roger’s spell.
But the blackness creeps in, slithering through the flagstones at their feet, and Alanna is dead certain that Roger’s magic doesn’t do that. She strikes out at it, sending a flare of violet power at the slick darkness that coats the flagstones near the entrance of the chapel and even now, advances upon them.
People scream, clearing and scattering from the advancing blackness. She hears the sound of steel clashing, people dying, but Alanna forces all of that away. She is a knight, and she yearns so much to fight the battle she does understand but Jon needs her, and she knows that together, they form Tortall’s best defence against magery.
Except Thom. Where’s Thom?
Her magic strikes the advancing wave of blackened, glossy stone with no effect. It dissolves and is sucked in by the stone. Alanna gasps and wrenches herself away before it can drain more of her Gift.
It steals the Gift. It can’t be stopped, and the moment it advances to where they are standing, it’ll drain all of their Gifts, all at once, and then Roger’s spell will tear and shatter the earth—how is he doing it?—and so she can’t let that happen.
Jaw set, Alanna steps forward. Jon blinks in alarm but doesn’t warn her; she knows that she can’t let go now, and his grip on her hand is reassuring, anyway. With her free hand, she releases the ember stone; it’s shown her nothing useful about the blackness, and perhaps that is telling in and of itself. She draws Lightning with her free hand, notices to her surprise that the crystal is incandescent with light, now.
How—why—?
Still, Alanna reverses her grip on Lightning, one-handed, and with the sword point down, traces a circle on the flagstones. Violet fire follows the path her blade traces. Jon notices what she is doing then, and bright blue fire burns its way after, counter-clockwise, in the opposite direction. Their Gifts meet and then the circle closes. The wall blazes into life, shifting with the multiple colours of the magic feeding it. Once, they raised a wall when fighting the Ysandir. Now, with far more experience at directing their Gifts, the shield follows the circle she traces with Lightning’s hilt.
Alanna blinks. Not quite.
Threads of light connect the glowing crystal set in Lightning’s hilt, and their shield. The blackness spreads like oil and speeds up, sliding across the flagstones, down the aisle, towards where the wall that Alanna has erected with the help of Lightning.
Alanna grits her teeth; the blackness tugs, and through the shield, she can feel the coldness sucking at her bones, drawing upon her Gift, but something stops it. Maybe it’s Lightning, maybe it’s the fact she completed the shielding circle, but either way, she doesn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Thank the Goddess. It had been a last ditch effort, nothing more.
Jon looks at her. “I need it all,” he says, quietly. She can read the strain in his eyes, in his voice, in the knotted desperation of his fingers and shoulders. “Gods, Alanna. He’s crunching through everything as fast as I can bring defenses up.”
“Do it,” Alanna says, and in that moment, she gives him permission.
Jon draws, yanks power from her so rapidly that she almost falls over flat on her nose.