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hailstorms) wrote2013-09-10 11:51 pm
hailstorms) wrote2013-09-10 11:51 pm
Entry tags:
[fic] starlight strung [UNFINISHED]
~375 words
mizael&durbe
notes: from mid-april. it was working under the theory that barians would come and go linked to a particular star; basically that the lords had always been those linked to the stars of the big dipper, but the barians themselves could die and be replaced (eg if durbe died, there would be a new dubhe barian to take his place.
It’s on his seventh day in front of the crystals that Durbe comes to him; Durbe, who walks with shoulders lower than when they began this endeavor, who takes a long while to break the silence and sounds so very tired when he does.
“They’re recovering slower than they ought to in the crystals,” he says, slow and quiet and it’s all Mizael can do not to hiss at him because he knows. He’s the one who’s been watching them all this time, the one who has sat before them and watched the slow (slow, slow) recovery. Watched the way they ought to be nearly healed by now and yet they still look as though they have weeks to go before there’s even a chance of them being ready to emerge. “You know what that means,” Durbe adds when there’s no response.
And, yes, Mizael knows what that means. Knows what the protocol is when healing is slow, when injuries are severe. He knows that the starlight will move on, that if it loses its current representative the star will string together light into another one of them and they’ll have a new Lord to replace the old. He knows it, he knows it and he’s never questioned it before, but now he rages at the thought of it and has to fight the urge to snap at Durbe. He rages and hates the thought because when it’s them, when it’s their comrades, he doesn’t understand how Durbe can care so little. It isn’t like with other Barians; Alit and Gilag are more than just starlight strung into gems and something like flesh until a cohesive form exists.
(Alit and Gilag are his
friends)
Durbe is still watching him with those cold, blank eyes, still waiting for some kind of response, and Mizael doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say. What he wants is to yell, to fight. To rage at Durbe, because Durbe stands before him cold and quiet and tired and doesn’t even look at the crystals and their contents. Because Durbe doesn’t seem to care at all, because Durbe looks as though the only disappointment in losing Alit or Gilag or both would be in the tactical disadvantage of having to wait for the new Lords to form.
mizael&durbe
notes: from mid-april. it was working under the theory that barians would come and go linked to a particular star; basically that the lords had always been those linked to the stars of the big dipper, but the barians themselves could die and be replaced (eg if durbe died, there would be a new dubhe barian to take his place.
It’s on his seventh day in front of the crystals that Durbe comes to him; Durbe, who walks with shoulders lower than when they began this endeavor, who takes a long while to break the silence and sounds so very tired when he does.
“They’re recovering slower than they ought to in the crystals,” he says, slow and quiet and it’s all Mizael can do not to hiss at him because he knows. He’s the one who’s been watching them all this time, the one who has sat before them and watched the slow (slow, slow) recovery. Watched the way they ought to be nearly healed by now and yet they still look as though they have weeks to go before there’s even a chance of them being ready to emerge. “You know what that means,” Durbe adds when there’s no response.
And, yes, Mizael knows what that means. Knows what the protocol is when healing is slow, when injuries are severe. He knows that the starlight will move on, that if it loses its current representative the star will string together light into another one of them and they’ll have a new Lord to replace the old. He knows it, he knows it and he’s never questioned it before, but now he rages at the thought of it and has to fight the urge to snap at Durbe. He rages and hates the thought because when it’s them, when it’s their comrades, he doesn’t understand how Durbe can care so little. It isn’t like with other Barians; Alit and Gilag are more than just starlight strung into gems and something like flesh until a cohesive form exists.
(Alit and Gilag are his
friends)
Durbe is still watching him with those cold, blank eyes, still waiting for some kind of response, and Mizael doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say. What he wants is to yell, to fight. To rage at Durbe, because Durbe stands before him cold and quiet and tired and doesn’t even look at the crystals and their contents. Because Durbe doesn’t seem to care at all, because Durbe looks as though the only disappointment in losing Alit or Gilag or both would be in the tactical disadvantage of having to wait for the new Lords to form.