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rainbowfic2014-10-31 09:30 am
kay_brooke) wrote in rainbowfic2014-10-31 09:30 am
Alien Green #20, Seafoam #14, Wizard #3
Mods, could I get a new story tag, please? story: the prime
Name:kay_brooke
Story: The Prime
Colors: Alien Green #20 (He’s the most dangerous man alive, not so much because he believes in his actions, but because he believes these actions are the only ones life allows him), Seafoam #14 (marble), Wizard #3 (Hogsmeade)
Styles/Supplies: Canvas, Seed Beads, Pastels (origfic_bingo prompt “symbols”), Graffiti (Trick or Tweet)
Word Count: 1,019
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; no standard warnings apply.
Summary: The boy comes to the temple.
Note: This is the story formerly known as David Cleaner. I've been writing a lot in it, so I'm officially moving it out of my miscellaneous tag. Constructive criticism is welcome, either through comments or PM.
Sheila knew she shouldn’t do it, but she couldn’t help herself, couldn’t resist. The boy was asleep, anyway, probably would be for a long time.
No, not a boy. Not a baby. Not anymore. A man, full-grown, his twentieth birthday falling across him in the breadth of his shoulders, the slight stubble over his jawline. Twenty years, and they had finally done it: they had stolen the Corporation’s most valuable asset.
She felt rather than heard Mikal beside her, nearly eighty, still smarting over his replacement by a younger man with the same name. He didn’t have to have the same name, he had argued. Let me believe him a successor instead of a replacement, at least. Do that for an old man.
But Mikal was luckier than most that he could even claim that status, and Sheila was not sentimental.
“You shouldn’t be here,” said Mikal, with the air of a man who had given up the fight long ago.
“You shouldn’t, either,” said Sheila. She turned to her old friend. “The fewer of us he sees, the better.”
“In case the Corporation takes him back,” said Mikal. “I know. But you’re still here. Our leader.” He shook his head. “The Corporation will burn the temple if they find out you were involved.”
“He’s asleep,” said Sheila. “What harm could it do?”
“You shouldn’t even be in the building.” Mikal pointed down the darkened hallway toward the foyer, where light from bobbing torches flickered against the walls and footsteps rang against the scratched marble floor while hushed voices echoed off the high ceiling. The sounds of an evacuation, one that should have been over a long time ago. “The last group is just leaving. Go with them.”
“They should have been gone hours ago,” said Sheila, not willing to give him any ground. Old Mikal, so desperate to feel needed, and though he was no longer up for anything physically demanding, she had thought there was no harm in putting him in charge of the logistics of clearing a few hundred people out of the temple.
“It’s not my fault the sky decided to pour down rain today,” Mikal snapped, his voice a little louder than necessary. Sheila flinched and made a shushing gesture. Her friend was right about something: the boy musn’t see her.
“We lost three carriage wheels to the mud,” he continued, in a whisper this time. “You know that. We had to fix them.”
“I know. I’m not blaming you. It was just an observation.” Before Mikal could find some way to take offense to that, she changed the subject. “What do you suppose he’s like?”
“The boy?” Mikal blinked and peered in at him, too, over Sheila’s head, like two worried parents checking on an overgrown child. “I don’t know. I never managed to get close to him.”
“Raised by the Corporation, experimented on, growing up knowing he had no other possibility of a life outside of his prison,” said Sheila. “What sort of a man does that make?”
“A dangerous one,” said Mikal. “Jericha told me he tried to kill a man when he was only a child, and he only became more unstable after that. Tried to kill himself. Tried to take as many of his handlers as he could with him. They had to lock him away from everything.”
Sheila nodded. “Good.”
“Sheila, he’s likely irreversibly deranged.” Mikal backed away from the door, as if just saying that would wake the boy up.
“Anyone can be rehabilitated,” said Sheila. She turned to look at Mikal. “And if he is a murderous madman, would you rather have him on our side or the Corporation’s?”
Mikal frowned. “Either way, what are you going to do with him? He’s useless to us. He can’t be a spy, and if someone from the Corporation caught even a glimpse of him they’d burn everything to get him back.”
Sheila lowered her gaze and thought for a moment, because she was sure if Mikal looked into her eyes he would see the lie. “We’ll make him an acolyte. Shave his head, bury him in robes, no one will know him. We’ll turn him away from their influence, and the Corporation has no reason to look too closely at a priest.”
“He’s far too old for that and you know it,” said Mikal.
“Then what would you have me do? Kill him?”
“That might be best.” Mikal briefly closed his eyes. “Don’t give me that scandalized look, Sheila, you and I both know we’ve done worse. And it might even be a mercy, in this case.” He peeked back in the door, drawing back slightly when the boy stirred and turned over in his sleep. “Do it now, and he’ll never even know that he was taken from his Corporation bed.”
Sheila shook her head. “He’s not for killing. I do have a use for him.”
“You can’t keep him here.”
“I know.”
“And you can’t keep him across the lake,” said Mikal. “What if he escapes, runs back to the Corporation, and tells them everything?”
“He’ll never know about across the lake,” said Sheila.
“Then what are you going to do with him?”
Sheila turned away. Down the hallway, the last of the voices started to fade. “Go, Mikal. Go with the others. I have assistants enough for the time being, and I don’t want you here in case the Corporation comes.”
“I don’t want you here,” Mikal argued. “We both need to go.”
“I have things to do that can only be done here,” said Sheila. “Now go, Mikal. That is an order from your leader.”
“Sheila--”
“Go.”
It took him a long time, and the look on his face would have stabbed her in the heart had she not deliberately grown it cold. But eventually he went, clumping down the hallway with his cane, muttering under his breath.
Sheila waited until he was out of sight, then closed the door to the boy’s room. She had stayed too long already, and she had so many things to do.
Name:
kay_brookeStory: The Prime
Colors: Alien Green #20 (He’s the most dangerous man alive, not so much because he believes in his actions, but because he believes these actions are the only ones life allows him), Seafoam #14 (marble), Wizard #3 (Hogsmeade)
Styles/Supplies: Canvas, Seed Beads, Pastels (
origfic_bingo prompt “symbols”), Graffiti (Trick or Tweet)
Word Count: 1,019
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; no standard warnings apply.
Summary: The boy comes to the temple.
Note: This is the story formerly known as David Cleaner. I've been writing a lot in it, so I'm officially moving it out of my miscellaneous tag. Constructive criticism is welcome, either through comments or PM.
Sheila knew she shouldn’t do it, but she couldn’t help herself, couldn’t resist. The boy was asleep, anyway, probably would be for a long time.
No, not a boy. Not a baby. Not anymore. A man, full-grown, his twentieth birthday falling across him in the breadth of his shoulders, the slight stubble over his jawline. Twenty years, and they had finally done it: they had stolen the Corporation’s most valuable asset.
She felt rather than heard Mikal beside her, nearly eighty, still smarting over his replacement by a younger man with the same name. He didn’t have to have the same name, he had argued. Let me believe him a successor instead of a replacement, at least. Do that for an old man.
But Mikal was luckier than most that he could even claim that status, and Sheila was not sentimental.
“You shouldn’t be here,” said Mikal, with the air of a man who had given up the fight long ago.
“You shouldn’t, either,” said Sheila. She turned to her old friend. “The fewer of us he sees, the better.”
“In case the Corporation takes him back,” said Mikal. “I know. But you’re still here. Our leader.” He shook his head. “The Corporation will burn the temple if they find out you were involved.”
“He’s asleep,” said Sheila. “What harm could it do?”
“You shouldn’t even be in the building.” Mikal pointed down the darkened hallway toward the foyer, where light from bobbing torches flickered against the walls and footsteps rang against the scratched marble floor while hushed voices echoed off the high ceiling. The sounds of an evacuation, one that should have been over a long time ago. “The last group is just leaving. Go with them.”
“They should have been gone hours ago,” said Sheila, not willing to give him any ground. Old Mikal, so desperate to feel needed, and though he was no longer up for anything physically demanding, she had thought there was no harm in putting him in charge of the logistics of clearing a few hundred people out of the temple.
“It’s not my fault the sky decided to pour down rain today,” Mikal snapped, his voice a little louder than necessary. Sheila flinched and made a shushing gesture. Her friend was right about something: the boy musn’t see her.
“We lost three carriage wheels to the mud,” he continued, in a whisper this time. “You know that. We had to fix them.”
“I know. I’m not blaming you. It was just an observation.” Before Mikal could find some way to take offense to that, she changed the subject. “What do you suppose he’s like?”
“The boy?” Mikal blinked and peered in at him, too, over Sheila’s head, like two worried parents checking on an overgrown child. “I don’t know. I never managed to get close to him.”
“Raised by the Corporation, experimented on, growing up knowing he had no other possibility of a life outside of his prison,” said Sheila. “What sort of a man does that make?”
“A dangerous one,” said Mikal. “Jericha told me he tried to kill a man when he was only a child, and he only became more unstable after that. Tried to kill himself. Tried to take as many of his handlers as he could with him. They had to lock him away from everything.”
Sheila nodded. “Good.”
“Sheila, he’s likely irreversibly deranged.” Mikal backed away from the door, as if just saying that would wake the boy up.
“Anyone can be rehabilitated,” said Sheila. She turned to look at Mikal. “And if he is a murderous madman, would you rather have him on our side or the Corporation’s?”
Mikal frowned. “Either way, what are you going to do with him? He’s useless to us. He can’t be a spy, and if someone from the Corporation caught even a glimpse of him they’d burn everything to get him back.”
Sheila lowered her gaze and thought for a moment, because she was sure if Mikal looked into her eyes he would see the lie. “We’ll make him an acolyte. Shave his head, bury him in robes, no one will know him. We’ll turn him away from their influence, and the Corporation has no reason to look too closely at a priest.”
“He’s far too old for that and you know it,” said Mikal.
“Then what would you have me do? Kill him?”
“That might be best.” Mikal briefly closed his eyes. “Don’t give me that scandalized look, Sheila, you and I both know we’ve done worse. And it might even be a mercy, in this case.” He peeked back in the door, drawing back slightly when the boy stirred and turned over in his sleep. “Do it now, and he’ll never even know that he was taken from his Corporation bed.”
Sheila shook her head. “He’s not for killing. I do have a use for him.”
“You can’t keep him here.”
“I know.”
“And you can’t keep him across the lake,” said Mikal. “What if he escapes, runs back to the Corporation, and tells them everything?”
“He’ll never know about across the lake,” said Sheila.
“Then what are you going to do with him?”
Sheila turned away. Down the hallway, the last of the voices started to fade. “Go, Mikal. Go with the others. I have assistants enough for the time being, and I don’t want you here in case the Corporation comes.”
“I don’t want you here,” Mikal argued. “We both need to go.”
“I have things to do that can only be done here,” said Sheila. “Now go, Mikal. That is an order from your leader.”
“Sheila--”
“Go.”
It took him a long time, and the look on his face would have stabbed her in the heart had she not deliberately grown it cold. But eventually he went, clumping down the hallway with his cane, muttering under his breath.
Sheila waited until he was out of sight, then closed the door to the boy’s room. She had stayed too long already, and she had so many things to do.
no subject
Oh dear. I get the feeling that poor David has gone from bad to worse.
no subject
Thanks for reading!
no subject
no subject