Post by Muse on May 31, 2013 22:39:03 GMT 10
Title: Crystal Sword Paradox III
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 529
Pairing: Alanna/Jonathan
Round/Fight: 3A
Summary: She never needs to clean her blade.
AN: Another Paradox prompt, #3; "Alanna does and does not find the Crystal Sword"
Lightning, with its sheared off blade, rides strapped to Moonlight’s saddle when Alanna packs her bags and rides away from the Bloody Hawk and Bazhir sands.
The feeling of Jon, close and yet so very far away in the North, that hangs over the tents every evening is becoming unbearable. She can’t forgive him, not for what he said, not yet, and she resents, just a little, the way he came into the desert and stole a little of what is hers.
She might be the Woman Who Rides Like A Man, but now Jon is the Voice and so much more important and—
She resents him, just a little, and so she decides to leave.
She wears the crystal sword on her belt, and tries not to be upset that the spell didn’t work and that Lightning stays in two pieces.
It worked for Jon and Ali Mukhtab the voice in the back of her head whispers, regardless of the fact that the spell was created for the Ceremony of the Voice, and it didn’t work for you; wonder why?
The blade hums in her hand, when she draws it against the hillmen, and her gaze films red for a moment.
Prince, Voice, heir to the Northern Throne it seems to whisper. She struggles, forcing her arms to move and block a downward blow at the last moment. You’re a knight-in-exile, a female shaman, neither one thing nor another. No wonder—
Alanna forces the thought, the insinuating voice and its taunts, out of her head and an ugly knot of twisted magic erupts from the strange crystal blade, engulfing the man and horse in front of her.
When the fighting dies down, she stops and stares for a long minute at the sword in her hand, breathing hard.
The blade is clean, though she has not wiped it with a cloth.
Alanna shudders and sheathes it without looking twice or thinking about the strange surface.
When she leaves the sands of the Great Southern Desert, the sensation of being watched during the moment of the Voice gradually diminishes, and Alanna begins to breathe again.
It’s in Berat that the messenger from Corus catches up with them, and Coram tips the young man while Alanna tears open the letter. Raoul writes in the same way he talks, which makes it that much more obvious to Alanna after all these years that he’s dancing around something.
There’s word of everyone, even George, but nothing about Jon.
He’s with that Princess Raoul mentioned, the voice slips across the back of her mind. Prince, Voice, heir, why not?
She forces another knot of energy from the blade, but it isn’t enough to rid her of the trailing thoughts. By the time they cross the border into Sarain, Alanna relishes the release that comes with the red haze.
Sand-scut-woman-knight-outcast
It feeds her, gives strength to tired limbs, and tales of a wild, thirsty Lioness spread behind her like blood in the water.
She never needs to clean her blade.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 529
Pairing: Alanna/Jonathan
Round/Fight: 3A
Summary: She never needs to clean her blade.
AN: Another Paradox prompt, #3; "Alanna does and does not find the Crystal Sword"
Lightning, with its sheared off blade, rides strapped to Moonlight’s saddle when Alanna packs her bags and rides away from the Bloody Hawk and Bazhir sands.
The feeling of Jon, close and yet so very far away in the North, that hangs over the tents every evening is becoming unbearable. She can’t forgive him, not for what he said, not yet, and she resents, just a little, the way he came into the desert and stole a little of what is hers.
She might be the Woman Who Rides Like A Man, but now Jon is the Voice and so much more important and—
She resents him, just a little, and so she decides to leave.
She wears the crystal sword on her belt, and tries not to be upset that the spell didn’t work and that Lightning stays in two pieces.
It worked for Jon and Ali Mukhtab the voice in the back of her head whispers, regardless of the fact that the spell was created for the Ceremony of the Voice, and it didn’t work for you; wonder why?
The blade hums in her hand, when she draws it against the hillmen, and her gaze films red for a moment.
Prince, Voice, heir to the Northern Throne it seems to whisper. She struggles, forcing her arms to move and block a downward blow at the last moment. You’re a knight-in-exile, a female shaman, neither one thing nor another. No wonder—
Alanna forces the thought, the insinuating voice and its taunts, out of her head and an ugly knot of twisted magic erupts from the strange crystal blade, engulfing the man and horse in front of her.
When the fighting dies down, she stops and stares for a long minute at the sword in her hand, breathing hard.
The blade is clean, though she has not wiped it with a cloth.
Alanna shudders and sheathes it without looking twice or thinking about the strange surface.
When she leaves the sands of the Great Southern Desert, the sensation of being watched during the moment of the Voice gradually diminishes, and Alanna begins to breathe again.
It’s in Berat that the messenger from Corus catches up with them, and Coram tips the young man while Alanna tears open the letter. Raoul writes in the same way he talks, which makes it that much more obvious to Alanna after all these years that he’s dancing around something.
There’s word of everyone, even George, but nothing about Jon.
He’s with that Princess Raoul mentioned, the voice slips across the back of her mind. Prince, Voice, heir, why not?
She forces another knot of energy from the blade, but it isn’t enough to rid her of the trailing thoughts. By the time they cross the border into Sarain, Alanna relishes the release that comes with the red haze.
Sand-scut-woman-knight-outcast
It feeds her, gives strength to tired limbs, and tales of a wild, thirsty Lioness spread behind her like blood in the water.
She never needs to clean her blade.