Broken Drabbles
Aug. 1st, 2006 09:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
garnigalI've got a couple more for Broken - these ones don't tie into Buffy's diaphragm.
Broken - 1908
She moved silently.
She didn’t notice the shapes moving into position against the shadowed rocks.
She got almost to their den before they surrounded her. Dropping out of the trees she’d thought of as cover, she was surrounded in an instant. No time to run; she wouldn’t have anyway. That was not a maneuver she’d been trained in.
She struck out at them with feet and fists. They snarled; she growled back. It was violent and animal and beautiful. Her enemies dissolved to dust, blood seeped from her wounds. It was close - she might have won.
Her blade snapped.
Broken
He’d been to Kenya once.
They toured old villages, savannah and mountains. In one hidden valley, the brown grasses contrasted against tall white stones. He’d wondered aloud what it was.
His guide explained it was elephant rib bones, curved like cages. The old elephants all came here to die.
That’s what this mess reminded him of. The broken timbers of the old building reached towards the sky, smoking ruins reminding him of cool morning mists. It was beautiful, in a devastating way.
Unseen under the fireman’s protective boots, a sooty and singed paper ripped and tore. ‘Quentin Travers, Watcher’s Council.”
Broken - 1908
She moved silently.
She didn’t notice the shapes moving into position against the shadowed rocks.
She got almost to their den before they surrounded her. Dropping out of the trees she’d thought of as cover, she was surrounded in an instant. No time to run; she wouldn’t have anyway. That was not a maneuver she’d been trained in.
She struck out at them with feet and fists. They snarled; she growled back. It was violent and animal and beautiful. Her enemies dissolved to dust, blood seeped from her wounds. It was close - she might have won.
Her blade snapped.
Broken
He’d been to Kenya once.
They toured old villages, savannah and mountains. In one hidden valley, the brown grasses contrasted against tall white stones. He’d wondered aloud what it was.
His guide explained it was elephant rib bones, curved like cages. The old elephants all came here to die.
That’s what this mess reminded him of. The broken timbers of the old building reached towards the sky, smoking ruins reminding him of cool morning mists. It was beautiful, in a devastating way.
Unseen under the fireman’s protective boots, a sooty and singed paper ripped and tore. ‘Quentin Travers, Watcher’s Council.”
no subject
Date: 2006-08-02 02:04 pm (UTC)