Athena (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
everlastingsoul) wrote2010-02-22 12:05 pm
everlastingsoul) wrote2010-02-22 12:05 pm
Entry tags:
Another week, another nonsensical subject line...
Big ol' cat scratches on the palm of my hand. My cat wasn't in a good mood yesterday or something and she got spooked while I was picking her up, so she sprang out of my hands and got her back claws pretty deep into my hand. It's already healing nicely, but... Yeesh. Haven't had cat scratches in a long time.
Luceti event's off to a start. A good start? I'm not sure; people aren't flooding flists right after midnight, which had been the trend not all that long ago. Got plans for Walter and Leon, and wondering what I'll do with Albert. I was surprised to hear someone had thought there was going to be Albert/Yuber going on. Stabbing would probably have been involved by the end of the experiment -- and not any sexy stabbing.
Speaking of Albert, Yuber, and stabbing... A Silverberg drabble. Hopefully I won't feel like tearing up this drabble when I go through it later on.
Title: Stick and Stones
Fandom: Suikoden III
Characters: Yuber and Albert
Word Count: 690
Rating: 14+ for blood and war?
Author's Notes: Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me. The year is approximately IS 500.
Blood followed in the wake of the black-clad stranger, streaking the rocky terrain crimson as a man was relieved of his head.
Nearby warriors had scattered as the bloody killer flicked gore from his blade, each sizing up the tall figure. Lizards looked to their Karayan brethren, bewildered by the man’s sudden appearance. As frontline warriors, they were in immediate danger, and they had little time to register that this threat may or may not be from the Tinto army.
One of the Karayans bellowed, enraged by the death of a clansman. His roar was echoed by others, and moments later a group of four Grasslanders rushed the unmoved man.
Inhuman eyes shone in the midday sun as the man in black swung his head to acknowledge the attackers. He took a step back, weapon brought to his chest in what could have been considered a defensive position. However, as the first Karayan came closer, the man abruptly dropped the sickle—revealing a length of chain curled in his long coat sleeve. He curled one hand around the chain and fluidly jerked his arm backwards, the sickle slashing the warrior’s throat open with devastating precision.
Mindful of the two armies still fighting around him, the man loosened the chain snaked around his arm and took the sickle back into hand, catching an incoming sword with the pulled-taut length of chain. A quick step backwards knocked the Karayan off-balance, allowing his tall opponent to smash the weighted end of the chain into his ribs. The crack of bone was almost audible over the battleground din.
The last of the three Karayans stopped short at the sight of two more of his brethren being dispatched, and he traded looks with the burly lizard who had rushed forward with him. They moved together, hoping to outmaneuver the killer. The Karayan warrior brought his sword up protectively as the man in black advanced on him; when the chain wrapped around the broad curve of his blade, he fought to keep the weapon from being stolen away. This proved to be a deadly distraction, as he was too focused on freeing the sword to see his opponent’s other arm move.
As the young warrior fell to the ground clutching at his bloody throat, he attempted to sneer at his killer. The reason became apparent abruptly—in the form of a huge spear through the man’s back. Sickle and chain clattered to the ground, and the lizard thrust the spear deeper into the man in black.
For a moment, the lizard was sure that the fight was over.
And then, before his eyes, two blond men in black appeared in his peripherals.
Like the man he had just dispatched, the lizard warrior met his end from a stab in the back. He never saw the third blond behind him.
- - - - -
“Such sloppy work. You know better.”
Albert didn’t answer, his gaze averted to the hole in his stomach. He peeled away his torn black coat, fingers brushing the ragged flesh and soft entrails. There was no pain.
He wished there was.
“I misjudged the lizard’s speed.”
Yuber snorted, taking Albert’s hand away from the pale injury. The demon flattened the skin, running the palm of his hand across the bloodless edges and leaving restored smooth flesh in its wake. He repeated the process along the back, repairing destroyed muscle and the nicked spinal column before sealing the entry wound entirely.
It was as if the mortal wound had not existed at all.
Rising to stand over the red-haired strategist, Yuber curled an arm possessively around his waist. “How many times will we go through this? I can’t have you being so careless.”
“It’s not carelessness.” Albert met Yuber’s gaze with dispassionate, decay-colored eyes. “You cannot expect me to be as efficient as you.”
The comment drew an amused sound from the black knight. “It was your lack of efficiency that got you in this mess, wasn’t it?” He tipped his chin, smirking against his companion’s lips. “Don’t worry—you have all eternity to learn.”
Those words were more painful than anything Albert could have ever physically felt.
Luceti event's off to a start. A good start? I'm not sure; people aren't flooding flists right after midnight, which had been the trend not all that long ago. Got plans for Walter and Leon, and wondering what I'll do with Albert. I was surprised to hear someone had thought there was going to be Albert/Yuber going on. Stabbing would probably have been involved by the end of the experiment -- and not any sexy stabbing.
Speaking of Albert, Yuber, and stabbing... A Silverberg drabble. Hopefully I won't feel like tearing up this drabble when I go through it later on.
Title: Stick and Stones
Fandom: Suikoden III
Characters: Yuber and Albert
Word Count: 690
Rating: 14+ for blood and war?
Author's Notes: Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me. The year is approximately IS 500.
Blood followed in the wake of the black-clad stranger, streaking the rocky terrain crimson as a man was relieved of his head.
Nearby warriors had scattered as the bloody killer flicked gore from his blade, each sizing up the tall figure. Lizards looked to their Karayan brethren, bewildered by the man’s sudden appearance. As frontline warriors, they were in immediate danger, and they had little time to register that this threat may or may not be from the Tinto army.
One of the Karayans bellowed, enraged by the death of a clansman. His roar was echoed by others, and moments later a group of four Grasslanders rushed the unmoved man.
Inhuman eyes shone in the midday sun as the man in black swung his head to acknowledge the attackers. He took a step back, weapon brought to his chest in what could have been considered a defensive position. However, as the first Karayan came closer, the man abruptly dropped the sickle—revealing a length of chain curled in his long coat sleeve. He curled one hand around the chain and fluidly jerked his arm backwards, the sickle slashing the warrior’s throat open with devastating precision.
Mindful of the two armies still fighting around him, the man loosened the chain snaked around his arm and took the sickle back into hand, catching an incoming sword with the pulled-taut length of chain. A quick step backwards knocked the Karayan off-balance, allowing his tall opponent to smash the weighted end of the chain into his ribs. The crack of bone was almost audible over the battleground din.
The last of the three Karayans stopped short at the sight of two more of his brethren being dispatched, and he traded looks with the burly lizard who had rushed forward with him. They moved together, hoping to outmaneuver the killer. The Karayan warrior brought his sword up protectively as the man in black advanced on him; when the chain wrapped around the broad curve of his blade, he fought to keep the weapon from being stolen away. This proved to be a deadly distraction, as he was too focused on freeing the sword to see his opponent’s other arm move.
As the young warrior fell to the ground clutching at his bloody throat, he attempted to sneer at his killer. The reason became apparent abruptly—in the form of a huge spear through the man’s back. Sickle and chain clattered to the ground, and the lizard thrust the spear deeper into the man in black.
For a moment, the lizard was sure that the fight was over.
And then, before his eyes, two blond men in black appeared in his peripherals.
Like the man he had just dispatched, the lizard warrior met his end from a stab in the back. He never saw the third blond behind him.
- - - - -
“Such sloppy work. You know better.”
Albert didn’t answer, his gaze averted to the hole in his stomach. He peeled away his torn black coat, fingers brushing the ragged flesh and soft entrails. There was no pain.
He wished there was.
“I misjudged the lizard’s speed.”
Yuber snorted, taking Albert’s hand away from the pale injury. The demon flattened the skin, running the palm of his hand across the bloodless edges and leaving restored smooth flesh in its wake. He repeated the process along the back, repairing destroyed muscle and the nicked spinal column before sealing the entry wound entirely.
It was as if the mortal wound had not existed at all.
Rising to stand over the red-haired strategist, Yuber curled an arm possessively around his waist. “How many times will we go through this? I can’t have you being so careless.”
“It’s not carelessness.” Albert met Yuber’s gaze with dispassionate, decay-colored eyes. “You cannot expect me to be as efficient as you.”
The comment drew an amused sound from the black knight. “It was your lack of efficiency that got you in this mess, wasn’t it?” He tipped his chin, smirking against his companion’s lips. “Don’t worry—you have all eternity to learn.”
Those words were more painful than anything Albert could have ever physically felt.