Short Fic: Above All
Dec. 7th, 2010 02:03 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cedar_groveThis was a fun one - a character aged 10. Trust me to pick the unlikely (folks liked this one)
Above All
He knew he was different... superior. From the moment he became aware, he could sense his difference from others around him, and knew instinctively that it was significant. Even as he stood over his downed classmate, his innards roiling with fury, the clarity in his mind tempered his actions. He became as steel. Silently, couched in deep, inaccessible thoughts, he plotted his revenge.
"Get up," he rumbled, as best his youthful frame would allow. "Call yourself command material? I saw your gambit even before you came close to my group."
"And yet still I got a hand to you," the other spat, his tone resentful. "Were this more than an exercise you would be dead – the rest of your faecal-passing cronies too!"
"I allowed it," he virtually sang the words, dismissing the other's boast and turned his back on the slightly older youth, ignoring the insult that was meant, by extension, to apply to him as well as to those whom he knew sheltered behind his strength and cunning. "You were never any threat."
His muscles coiled in readiness of a resumption of the conflict as he heard the other begin to climb to his feet. Outwardly, however, he remained a vision of calm; made sure that the position of his body betrayed none of his preparedness. If the other wanted to press the issue, he would gladly end it, and consequences be damned. With measured steps he forced himself to walk away.
"This isn't over, Weanling," the other said, the anger in his voice turning the acrid distance between them to the likeness of space – frigid and lifeless. "We aren't done yet."
In spite of himself and his desire to rise above the taunting, he stopped walking, and turned slowly to face the other again. He tilted his head slowly as he met the other's narrowed eyes.
"Oh," he almost purred, the sound coming from beneath the fury that still sat hot and heavy in his gut, "we're done."
Then he forced himself to turn away again, and resume the passage of his steps toward the security of the Hold, though, he noted with a self conscious chuckle, it was not exactly any less dangerous within as it was without.
You should watch for that one. He is dangerous, and bears you ill will.
His hand flashed toward the hilt of the blade he carried concealed beneath his tunic, and barely halted as his sire peeled away from the shadows in the corner. He gave an exaggerated shrug to hide the motion.
"Challenge will come when it comes. I do not fear it," he said.
"Report to your barracks," the adult ordered. "Do not draw attention to yourself."
Already She is watching you.
"Nor do I fear the weight of Her regard," he answered, but none-the-less obeyed the command to return to his bunk.
**
He knew he was different… superior. From the moment he became aware of the other's presence, he could sense the weakness, and knew instinctively that victory would be his.
He struck hard and fast even as the attack came against him; caught the other's outstretched right hand even as his classmate reached for the centre of his chest.
His innards roiled with rekindled fury at the audacity of this one, but sensed the desperation, almost like the reek of fear from the older youth. His own mental clarity strengthened his resolve. He became as death, swift and merciless. Using the other's momentum against him, he threw him down and was upon him in an instant, his unsheathed blade against the underside of his chin.
"I may not yet be old enough to feed," he growled, and leaned in close, fixing the wide, fearful, catlike eyes of his victim with the fire in his own, even as he tilted his head one way and then another, his serpentine sway almost hypnotic. "But you… you are still weak enough to die."
He knew he was different... superior. From the moment he became aware, he could sense his difference from others around him, and knew instinctively that it was significant. Even as he stood over his downed classmate, his innards roiling with fury, the clarity in his mind tempered his actions. He became as steel. Silently, couched in deep, inaccessible thoughts, he plotted his revenge.
"Get up," he rumbled, as best his youthful frame would allow. "Call yourself command material? I saw your gambit even before you came close to my group."
"And yet still I got a hand to you," the other spat, his tone resentful. "Were this more than an exercise you would be dead – the rest of your faecal-passing cronies too!"
"I allowed it," he virtually sang the words, dismissing the other's boast and turned his back on the slightly older youth, ignoring the insult that was meant, by extension, to apply to him as well as to those whom he knew sheltered behind his strength and cunning. "You were never any threat."
His muscles coiled in readiness of a resumption of the conflict as he heard the other begin to climb to his feet. Outwardly, however, he remained a vision of calm; made sure that the position of his body betrayed none of his preparedness. If the other wanted to press the issue, he would gladly end it, and consequences be damned. With measured steps he forced himself to walk away.
"This isn't over, Weanling," the other said, the anger in his voice turning the acrid distance between them to the likeness of space – frigid and lifeless. "We aren't done yet."
In spite of himself and his desire to rise above the taunting, he stopped walking, and turned slowly to face the other again. He tilted his head slowly as he met the other's narrowed eyes.
"Oh," he almost purred, the sound coming from beneath the fury that still sat hot and heavy in his gut, "we're done."
Then he forced himself to turn away again, and resume the passage of his steps toward the security of the Hold, though, he noted with a self conscious chuckle, it was not exactly any less dangerous within as it was without.
You should watch for that one. He is dangerous, and bears you ill will.
His hand flashed toward the hilt of the blade he carried concealed beneath his tunic, and barely halted as his sire peeled away from the shadows in the corner. He gave an exaggerated shrug to hide the motion.
"Challenge will come when it comes. I do not fear it," he said.
"Report to your barracks," the adult ordered. "Do not draw attention to yourself."
Already She is watching you.
"Nor do I fear the weight of Her regard," he answered, but none-the-less obeyed the command to return to his bunk.
He knew he was different… superior. From the moment he became aware of the other's presence, he could sense the weakness, and knew instinctively that victory would be his.
He struck hard and fast even as the attack came against him; caught the other's outstretched right hand even as his classmate reached for the centre of his chest.
His innards roiled with rekindled fury at the audacity of this one, but sensed the desperation, almost like the reek of fear from the older youth. His own mental clarity strengthened his resolve. He became as death, swift and merciless. Using the other's momentum against him, he threw him down and was upon him in an instant, his unsheathed blade against the underside of his chin.
"I may not yet be old enough to feed," he growled, and leaned in close, fixing the wide, fearful, catlike eyes of his victim with the fire in his own, even as he tilted his head one way and then another, his serpentine sway almost hypnotic. "But you… you are still weak enough to die."
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no subject
Date: 2010-12-10 03:25 am (UTC)If so, this story is a gift on my Wish List!
no subject
Date: 2010-12-11 03:43 pm (UTC)So yes, dear reader, if you wish for it to be Michael backstory, then it can be the gift on your wishlist. (Or I could go ahead and try and write you another one if I get a spare few minutes). LOL