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rainbowfic2015-01-17 08:36 pm
bookblather) wrote in rainbowfic2015-01-17 08:36 pm
Rose Pink 2: Rhymes With I Love You
Author: Kat
Title: Rhymes With I Love You
Story: In the Heart - Spartacus AU
Colors: Rose pink 2 (let me help)
Supplies and Materials: Eraser (Spartacus AU), miniature collection, stickers (The CIA estimates that there are more than 1 million slaves in the US today.), pastels (Free), sculpture (you may recall this story), novelty beads (this picture)
Word Count: 606
Rating: R
Summary: A love story in moments.
Warnings: Slavery, mentions of rape and death in childbirth, blink-and-miss-it mention of forced abortion, also skip
Warning text
.
Notes: This is a brutal AU, guys; please read with care.
"No."
She did not say it. She said nothing to them, or to anyone-- it was one of the things they knew about her. She did not speak. She made no sound at all, beyond breathless sobs.
But she did not need to say it. She did not even need to shake her head. It took no intuitive genius to recognize the terror in her shaking limbs, the pleading in her tear-damp face. It took no compassionate soul to back away from her, to leave her untouched.
It was late spring, and she was so frightened. She needed them so much.
--
"Please."
They knew what she meant. They had all three seen the girl and the gladiator, the pain in her face, and the clench of his jaw, and the way the Romans gloried in the blood on her thighs, after. "Untouched," they'd said, "a virgin," they'd said, and this girl was a virgin too, and oh how they would make her hurt.
"Please," she whispered, and they didn't even know she could speak but for this she might have learned.
They were as gentle with her as they knew how to be, and when she cried out, it was from pleasure.
--
"Summer."
She said it after, while she lay between them in the humid dark.
It took them time to understand her meaning. It did not help that it was summer, a long and sultry season in Capua, nor that it came out of nothing, a single word spoken into the night.
But when she touched her own breast and repeated it, "Summer," they understood. Summer; her name, the greatest gift she could give.
Someone would take her away by morning; there was only so long they could keep her.
But for now she lay between them, and they knew her name.
--
"Yes."
She still did not speak much. Never more than one word at a time. It was as if the terror that kept her silent loosened its clutch a little, now and then, and let a word slip out.
So often now, that word was 'yes.' Yes, when the Romans brought her to them; yes, when they kissed her; yes, when she threw her head back and moaned, her legs splayed between them.
Yes, when they saw the gentle curve of her belly; yes, when they touched it in awe; yes, when her smile burst like the sunrise.
Yes. Yes. Yes.
--
"Goodbye."
She never said it to them.
It was simple, as all such things were: one day she was there, the next she was gone. At first they thought her simply reassigned, to some other part of the house while her pregnancy advanced, but then word filtered down and they knew.
She had refused to give up the child and domina flew into a rage, and now, beaten, sold, she might as well be dead. Months later and she was dead; the babe too big, her body too slight.
Winter was upon them, Spartacus cried of freedom, and she was dead.
--
"Hello."
She was kneeling when they found her again, but not in subjugation. Her whole body arched toward the sky, like a flower unfurling for the spring rain, and she was laughing, her hair falling in tangled damp curls down her back. If she was thinner than before, if she carried more scars, it only made her more lovely.
She was alive, then, and free. They all were but most especially her, and she did not need them at all, but she turned toward them when they started forward, her arms opening, and the delight in her eyes lit the world.
Title: Rhymes With I Love You
Story: In the Heart - Spartacus AU
Colors: Rose pink 2 (let me help)
Supplies and Materials: Eraser (Spartacus AU), miniature collection, stickers (The CIA estimates that there are more than 1 million slaves in the US today.), pastels (Free), sculpture (you may recall this story), novelty beads (this picture)
Word Count: 606
Rating: R
Summary: A love story in moments.
Warnings: Slavery, mentions of rape and death in childbirth, blink-and-miss-it mention of forced abortion, also skip
Warning text
.
Notes: This is a brutal AU, guys; please read with care.
"No."
She did not say it. She said nothing to them, or to anyone-- it was one of the things they knew about her. She did not speak. She made no sound at all, beyond breathless sobs.
But she did not need to say it. She did not even need to shake her head. It took no intuitive genius to recognize the terror in her shaking limbs, the pleading in her tear-damp face. It took no compassionate soul to back away from her, to leave her untouched.
It was late spring, and she was so frightened. She needed them so much.
--
"Please."
They knew what she meant. They had all three seen the girl and the gladiator, the pain in her face, and the clench of his jaw, and the way the Romans gloried in the blood on her thighs, after. "Untouched," they'd said, "a virgin," they'd said, and this girl was a virgin too, and oh how they would make her hurt.
"Please," she whispered, and they didn't even know she could speak but for this she might have learned.
They were as gentle with her as they knew how to be, and when she cried out, it was from pleasure.
--
"Summer."
She said it after, while she lay between them in the humid dark.
It took them time to understand her meaning. It did not help that it was summer, a long and sultry season in Capua, nor that it came out of nothing, a single word spoken into the night.
But when she touched her own breast and repeated it, "Summer," they understood. Summer; her name, the greatest gift she could give.
Someone would take her away by morning; there was only so long they could keep her.
But for now she lay between them, and they knew her name.
--
"Yes."
She still did not speak much. Never more than one word at a time. It was as if the terror that kept her silent loosened its clutch a little, now and then, and let a word slip out.
So often now, that word was 'yes.' Yes, when the Romans brought her to them; yes, when they kissed her; yes, when she threw her head back and moaned, her legs splayed between them.
Yes, when they saw the gentle curve of her belly; yes, when they touched it in awe; yes, when her smile burst like the sunrise.
Yes. Yes. Yes.
--
"Goodbye."
She never said it to them.
It was simple, as all such things were: one day she was there, the next she was gone. At first they thought her simply reassigned, to some other part of the house while her pregnancy advanced, but then word filtered down and they knew.
She had refused to give up the child and domina flew into a rage, and now, beaten, sold, she might as well be dead. Months later and she was dead; the babe too big, her body too slight.
Winter was upon them, Spartacus cried of freedom, and she was dead.
--
"Hello."
She was kneeling when they found her again, but not in subjugation. Her whole body arched toward the sky, like a flower unfurling for the spring rain, and she was laughing, her hair falling in tangled damp curls down her back. If she was thinner than before, if she carried more scars, it only made her more lovely.
She was alive, then, and free. They all were but most especially her, and she did not need them at all, but she turned toward them when they started forward, her arms opening, and the delight in her eyes lit the world.