Moments; Doctor Who & Torchwood; PG
Jul. 14th, 2008 08:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
morgynleriSet Title: Moments
Fandom: Doctor Who, Torchwood
Rating: PG
Notes: Another set of Daegon Rings drabbles. Am certain there's more waiting to be written, but the noise was getting to me, and the muses went and hid after the third of these on Saturday, and I haven't relocated all of them yet.
Echo
He shouldn't be the one in pale blue and white, with lit torch in hand. Watching unseeing as the shrouded body is laid on the pyre.
A hand wraps over his, cool fingers drawing his attention to a familiar face. Reflectedgrief and understanding.
"I'm so sorry." Quiet words that slice deep, drawing anger and unspoken questions to the surface.
He pulls away, glaring a moment before deliberately turning his back, stepping closer to the pyre. A farewell kiss pressed against cold lips before flame is laid to oil-soaked wood.
Unknowingly an echo of another's farewell not so very long ago.
Unchanged
He watches the flames catch and leap, not caring that he's unwelcome here. Staying even as the others leave, custom and protocol giving grief a wide berth.
Another small piece of the past gone to feed a gnawing darkness hidden by cheerful smiles and unending patter. Timelines twisting and changing, something looming ahead unseen.
"You could have stopped this." Grief, raw and thick with anger.
"No." Not once he knew, not once he was here and now. A timeline tied to his own, playing out inexorably to its violent end.
She wasn't the first, and she wouldn't be the last.
Gray
Inhuman eyes watch from the shadows, an itch between his shoulders his only warning. Enough to dive out of danger, rolling into the meager shelter of a low table.
A hissed epithet follows him, predetory annoyance in a language that shouldn't be spoken here and now. Strange and unsurprising at once, that his brother attracted one of the deviants.
Momentary quiet, a sense of waiting, patient stillness, and then the faint scrape of scales on concrete. Movement, close and seeking, vulnerable now that he knew what made it.
Strike fast, kill the danger before he is the one to fall.
Fandom: Doctor Who, Torchwood
Rating: PG
Notes: Another set of Daegon Rings drabbles. Am certain there's more waiting to be written, but the noise was getting to me, and the muses went and hid after the third of these on Saturday, and I haven't relocated all of them yet.
Echo
He shouldn't be the one in pale blue and white, with lit torch in hand. Watching unseeing as the shrouded body is laid on the pyre.
A hand wraps over his, cool fingers drawing his attention to a familiar face. Reflectedgrief and understanding.
"I'm so sorry." Quiet words that slice deep, drawing anger and unspoken questions to the surface.
He pulls away, glaring a moment before deliberately turning his back, stepping closer to the pyre. A farewell kiss pressed against cold lips before flame is laid to oil-soaked wood.
Unknowingly an echo of another's farewell not so very long ago.
Unchanged
He watches the flames catch and leap, not caring that he's unwelcome here. Staying even as the others leave, custom and protocol giving grief a wide berth.
Another small piece of the past gone to feed a gnawing darkness hidden by cheerful smiles and unending patter. Timelines twisting and changing, something looming ahead unseen.
"You could have stopped this." Grief, raw and thick with anger.
"No." Not once he knew, not once he was here and now. A timeline tied to his own, playing out inexorably to its violent end.
She wasn't the first, and she wouldn't be the last.
Gray
Inhuman eyes watch from the shadows, an itch between his shoulders his only warning. Enough to dive out of danger, rolling into the meager shelter of a low table.
A hissed epithet follows him, predetory annoyance in a language that shouldn't be spoken here and now. Strange and unsurprising at once, that his brother attracted one of the deviants.
Momentary quiet, a sense of waiting, patient stillness, and then the faint scrape of scales on concrete. Movement, close and seeking, vulnerable now that he knew what made it.
Strike fast, kill the danger before he is the one to fall.