[identity profile] adze.livejournal.com
The only sound in the early morning light was the scratching of Michael's pen across the paper as he wrote. Apart from him, Jamie's mansion was deserted still, with the rest of Michael's pack both still in Brazil. They'd been there for weeks, and Michael hated the feel of the place when he was on his own - it was just too big, and too empty.

He sighed, and crumpled up the piece of paper again, throwing it in the overflowing bin, and starting again with a fresh sheet. He hated writing things like this, although he'd done it time and again over the last year or so.

In a few hours, Michael had a Challenge to fight, and after that, the Sept were hopefully going to do something against the Ancestor Spirit that had been killing so many people. One slip, one miss-step, during either of those, and he might well end up dead, and there were things that needed to be done in case that happened.

The first note he'd written that morning had taken a long time, but was pretty much done. It was just notes, on some of the things that had been going in recently - a way to make sure that the work he'd been doing wasn't completely wasted.

The letter he was struggling to write now was something much more important to him. Michael hadn't seen Tegan in over a week now, because Fergal had been around the Sept after what had happened a few nights ago, and he missed her. Maybe Fergal hadn't wanted to see her, or maybe she hadn't wanted to see him. Or maybe they'd been meeting up every few hours for...

He didn't want to think about it. It was hard enough knowing that she'd be going back to Fergal soon. Thinking about what they might have been up to over the last week was just too painful, even though Michael had kind of told her he wouldn't mind. After all, they were married, and by the terms of her Geas, if nothing else, that was something that would bind her forever, as much as Michael may have hated it.

Regardless, he hadn't seen her in what felt like a long time. He hadn't felt like he could risk Fergal finding out about him & Tegan, because of what might happen, so he'd stayed away from the cosy flat where he'd practically been living for the last couple of months, and the girl who meant more to him than he could describe.

He'd thought about going to see her last night, even just for a little while, but then Ironrod had been jumped by vampires, and things had got more complicated again.

So, he was trying to write something for her. Just a note, something to be passed on to her should the worst happen, but he couldn't quite find the words. He'd written stuff like this before, and they'd always been hard work, but today...

Today things felt worse. Maybe it was not having seen her for a while, maybe it was knowing that she'd be leaving soon. But he just didn't know how to say what he wanted to say.
[identity profile] adze.livejournal.com
The wind howling past the window made it hard to concentrate. At least, that was Michael's excuse for how hard the Rite seemed to be right now.

He sat cross-legged on the bed, and tried to clear his head enough to start over.

Again, the unfamiliar surroundings and the noise of the gale whipped away what focus he had, over the nerves in the pit of his stomach, and the stone in his hand didn't so much as twitch.

Frustrated, he set it down, and crossed to the window, looking out at the unfamiliar skyline. Opening it as much as the hinges would allow, he breathed deeply, scenting the air, and hoping.

There. On the edge of perception,in that place between physical senses and gut feelings was what he'd been looking for. The scent of fruit and chocolate, a flash of colour - bright yellow, with a mix of blue and red - , the taste and feel he'd never been able to describe, and a hint of a familiar voice, far away.

Michael jammed his hat tight on his head, and started out. Finally, he knew where he was going.

Duty

Mar. 5th, 2008 04:25 pm
[identity profile] adze.livejournal.com
I wrote this last week, before the Garou game, and only showed it to a couple of people, with the promise that I'd post it up this week. So, here it is:


Duty )
[identity profile] adze.livejournal.com
He'd been walking all day, and it was getting dark. Pounding the streets of London, trying to clear his head. Too many things to think about, too many things that needed doing. But first, he needed to do something for himself.

The day had started in Camden. Another look around the desolation, around the mess. They were still finding bodies, even now. Here and there, though, there were patches of hope. In an archway by the canal, someone has begun to draw something - it's eyecatching, not just because of how good it is, but because it's new, not finished yet, but fresh. The walls around it have been sandblasted clean, but here, someone has started something new, and just for a second, it made him smile.

He had moved on from there, from the place he felt responsible for. None of them had know, none of them could have known, that their target had set up something so insanely destructive as a trap for anyone entering that room. When the door had been kicked down, the room had filled with sand in an instant, and as fast as it was countered, the damage had already been done. And he had been responsible for the door coming down. It wasn't guilt - the guilty one had died seconds later, and his master would follow soon - but he felt responsible, and there had to be some way to make up for it.

But, out of options, out of ideas, he'd moved on for now, and his feet had carried him on for miles, until he'd realised where he was. The flat still hadn't been rebuilt, and the shed beside it still stood with the bucket he'd once filled, so long ago, now full to the brim with rainwater. Without thinking about it, his hand had touched the pendant round his neck - a horned god, against a sunburst, and just nearby, a tiny butterfly - and he thought again of the girl who had made it, and her brother.

"I miss you both, so much. I just wish..." He hadn't realised he was talking out loud until his voice broke, and he'd cleared his throat. "Khara managed to bring Greyfur back from the dead, and we can't seem to get rid of Lex, but you two. I wish I could bring you both back."

And then he moved on again. It was getting later in the day, and he could feel himself heading somewhere he didn't really want to go, but he couldn't bring himself to go anywhere else. It took a long time to walk there, but eventually, he could see the railings outside the gardens at Kew. He could feel the change in the world around him, as he got nearer to the Threshold, and he lent against a railing, and his thoughts turned to someone who slept not far from where he stood. "I am such a coward," he thought. "I'm not afraid of going to Ireland, I'm not afraid of fighting Fergal, although I'm terrified of losing to him. But I'm too scared to talk to you about it. I just can't bring myself to do it. I'm just scared you'll say no. But I have to go, and I have to try, because this all means so little without you. And when I'm done, when I've beaten him, and when I've convinced him not to kill me just for being with you, then maybe we can put it all back together."

Michael Stands-Ready pulled his had down over his eyes, and started to head for home. It had took too long, but he knew now what he had to do - now he just had to do it.



In the fourth paragraph, I'd originally mis-typed one sentence as <"...of the girl who had made it, and her bother...", which is just as true ;-)
[identity profile] adze.livejournal.com
This is something I sent to [livejournal.com profile] annwfyn, after she asked for prose about her characters, the other day. I wasn't going to post it up here originally, but I've changed my mind.

It's set earlier this week, before the games, and the bombs around London.

A story that has so far, only been described as 'sweet.' Which is probably fair )

There will probably be something else tomorrow.

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