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rainbowfic2016-07-05 03:21 pm
novel_machinist) wrote in rainbowfic2016-07-05 03:21 pm
MEME FOR PRESIDENT! [19. Feels Bad Man] Jealous of Roses One-Off
Author:novel_machinist
Story:Jealous of Heroes / Jealous of Roses
Characters: Merrick and Diana
Prompt/Challenge:Vote Meme! [19. Feels Bad Man]
Rating: PG13 for language
Word Count: 1,115
Warnings: SPOILERS for some Jealous of Roses stuff.
Notes: This is a pressie forshipwreck_light since she lets me break her toys. SPOILERS for finding out who Merrick's dad is.
She moved like one part a wolf and two parts a viper as she stalked around the young man. The dirt clouded up about the flips of her skirt. Around the sand and pointed wreckage was a garden of memories. "Do you love, I wonder?" She asked as she picked up a mechanical looking heart. It was made of thin gears and glass; a delicate and warm thing in her hands. Those long, calloused fingers twitched to crush it.
"Put that down." The young man hissed. "Now." He struggled with the ropes that held him fast to the center of the room. "Those aren't yours."
She had eyes like his without any of the softness. "I never really managed the trick you know, Ranier."
"That's not. My. Name." The ropes shimmered away from being and the young man stood up, the chair fell behind him but vanished before it clattered to the ground.
She closed her hand around the heart. "Impressive." Before she crushed it, the young man was at her side, his large, strong hands around her wrist. She sucked in a breath.
He glared at her with that naked, sky-blue gaze. "I. Said. That. Isn't. Yours."
She looked pleased. "There it is, Ranier."
The world around them shimmered. The garden of the man she called Ranier's memories shifted to dunes of sand. The smell of oil and metallic life wafted around them. A gear-like scream was muffled around their ears. She arched a black eyebrow and delicately removed her hand from his grasp. She opened empty palms. "Very impressive. I'm proud. Pushback."
"My name is Merrick." He clenched his hands tightly in fists. His shoulders were so tense they nearly trembled. "What do you want?"
"That name's hardly fitting of you, my little king." The woman pulled her hand back and cupped it to her chest. "Too soft."
"I'm nothing like you." Behind him he could sense something moving; something large.
She smiled at it. "But perhaps you could be."
Merrick turned and looked up. It was a lizard...tall as a horse. Then he saw the frills, the color of it. Of her, a white dragon. It was beautiful. It was terrible, and it was her devoted steed. If he wanted to be pleasant, Merrick would have called it her soul.
"Beautiful isn't she?" It would be fitting if one said that the dragon was her soul. She crafted it herself to exacting standard.
"Not really."
"You can't even lie. Here I thought that your father at least could do that much." She stood next to him, three inches shorter and twice as deadly.
He couldn't stop searching her for something that didn't make him feel like he was watching an inversion of himself. They were too different to not be alike in their genetics. He was curious despite himself. "Let. Go."
"If you want away from your mother so badly then you get out."
Merrick snapped his head away. He wouldn't admit to seeing any of her in him. "...how long has it been?"
She looked up as if she could see a way out in the sun. "To others? Barely a breath." Her black hair tossed up slightly as she turned to look at him. "It will be barely long enough to notice when we return from our mind."
"What do you want then?" Merrick asked as he watched the dragon. It's coils shone and it's eyes were clear, so alive tho they were nothing but mirrors and glass.
"We're not like them. Part of this dying and broken city. It's a last testament to human errors and pride, greed." She laughed, it was, perhaps, the only warm and comforting thing about her. That fact made it distinctly unsettling. "We don't seek to tame anything."
"Get to the point." He wouldn't look at her.
"I have, I thought." She walked forward to the beast and pet it as delicately as one would a newling kitten. "This city is full of people that seek to control, to tame, to stamp out. It's so full of lords and laws that it's going to crush itself. They can't protect themselves from the world any longer. From wildness. The only way to get by is to accept it, run with it, rule it by your own wild abandon and acceptance."
"You abandoned me in a wasteland."
"I left you in your equivalent to a playroom. You will always be fine, Merrick." She spat the name out. "I left you because you were too soft to go with me; I thought your father was made of firmer resolutions. Sadly his softness meant you needed more tempering."
"I could have died."
"Any other boy would have." She leaned against that mechanic beast like it was her twin spirit. "But not my boy." She sighed. "I regret that I made you with Claude. I knew that he had a carelessness for others, that he had the distinct ability to be a killer. I could feel that beautiful beast within him when we were together. I mistook a dog for a wolf, it seemed. Some part of him requires taming. I regret that it may have passed to you."
"That name is dead." Merrick responded.
She made a face that could have passed for sad. "Oh. Seems that he truly does require ownership. More's the pity."
"This is the last time I will ask you why you're here." He was hissing words by now he was so angry.
She only smiled. "I was curious about what you had become. I was hoping to see some fell thing that wanted an escape from its cage. Instead I see that you're doing a good job at playing that you are tame. How often is it, I wonder, that you are desperate for violence." The world around them shimmered again, but the desert remained. "What do you do when that happens? Do you run back home, to the desert that gives you a beautiful outlet? Do you flex those muscles and put them to use?"
Merrick closed his eyes and then in a rush of cold air the two of them were back in the tea house, hand in hand. He glared at them then yanked backwards. "I make things." He snapped as he threw his glove back on.
She reclined luxuriously in the worn, soft chair. "As do I, my son. As do I."
Merrick slapped money on the table and left his cup warm and steaming. He stalked out the door with her words beating him around his ears. He had no way of knowing that in her own way, his mother was so. Very. Proud
novel_machinistStory:Jealous of Heroes / Jealous of Roses
Characters: Merrick and Diana
Prompt/Challenge:Vote Meme! [19. Feels Bad Man]
Rating: PG13 for language
Word Count: 1,115
Warnings: SPOILERS for some Jealous of Roses stuff.
Notes: This is a pressie for
shipwreck_light since she lets me break her toys. SPOILERS for finding out who Merrick's dad is. She moved like one part a wolf and two parts a viper as she stalked around the young man. The dirt clouded up about the flips of her skirt. Around the sand and pointed wreckage was a garden of memories. "Do you love, I wonder?" She asked as she picked up a mechanical looking heart. It was made of thin gears and glass; a delicate and warm thing in her hands. Those long, calloused fingers twitched to crush it.
"Put that down." The young man hissed. "Now." He struggled with the ropes that held him fast to the center of the room. "Those aren't yours."
She had eyes like his without any of the softness. "I never really managed the trick you know, Ranier."
"That's not. My. Name." The ropes shimmered away from being and the young man stood up, the chair fell behind him but vanished before it clattered to the ground.
She closed her hand around the heart. "Impressive." Before she crushed it, the young man was at her side, his large, strong hands around her wrist. She sucked in a breath.
He glared at her with that naked, sky-blue gaze. "I. Said. That. Isn't. Yours."
She looked pleased. "There it is, Ranier."
The world around them shimmered. The garden of the man she called Ranier's memories shifted to dunes of sand. The smell of oil and metallic life wafted around them. A gear-like scream was muffled around their ears. She arched a black eyebrow and delicately removed her hand from his grasp. She opened empty palms. "Very impressive. I'm proud. Pushback."
"My name is Merrick." He clenched his hands tightly in fists. His shoulders were so tense they nearly trembled. "What do you want?"
"That name's hardly fitting of you, my little king." The woman pulled her hand back and cupped it to her chest. "Too soft."
"I'm nothing like you." Behind him he could sense something moving; something large.
She smiled at it. "But perhaps you could be."
Merrick turned and looked up. It was a lizard...tall as a horse. Then he saw the frills, the color of it. Of her, a white dragon. It was beautiful. It was terrible, and it was her devoted steed. If he wanted to be pleasant, Merrick would have called it her soul.
"Beautiful isn't she?" It would be fitting if one said that the dragon was her soul. She crafted it herself to exacting standard.
"Not really."
"You can't even lie. Here I thought that your father at least could do that much." She stood next to him, three inches shorter and twice as deadly.
He couldn't stop searching her for something that didn't make him feel like he was watching an inversion of himself. They were too different to not be alike in their genetics. He was curious despite himself. "Let. Go."
"If you want away from your mother so badly then you get out."
Merrick snapped his head away. He wouldn't admit to seeing any of her in him. "...how long has it been?"
She looked up as if she could see a way out in the sun. "To others? Barely a breath." Her black hair tossed up slightly as she turned to look at him. "It will be barely long enough to notice when we return from our mind."
"What do you want then?" Merrick asked as he watched the dragon. It's coils shone and it's eyes were clear, so alive tho they were nothing but mirrors and glass.
"We're not like them. Part of this dying and broken city. It's a last testament to human errors and pride, greed." She laughed, it was, perhaps, the only warm and comforting thing about her. That fact made it distinctly unsettling. "We don't seek to tame anything."
"Get to the point." He wouldn't look at her.
"I have, I thought." She walked forward to the beast and pet it as delicately as one would a newling kitten. "This city is full of people that seek to control, to tame, to stamp out. It's so full of lords and laws that it's going to crush itself. They can't protect themselves from the world any longer. From wildness. The only way to get by is to accept it, run with it, rule it by your own wild abandon and acceptance."
"You abandoned me in a wasteland."
"I left you in your equivalent to a playroom. You will always be fine, Merrick." She spat the name out. "I left you because you were too soft to go with me; I thought your father was made of firmer resolutions. Sadly his softness meant you needed more tempering."
"I could have died."
"Any other boy would have." She leaned against that mechanic beast like it was her twin spirit. "But not my boy." She sighed. "I regret that I made you with Claude. I knew that he had a carelessness for others, that he had the distinct ability to be a killer. I could feel that beautiful beast within him when we were together. I mistook a dog for a wolf, it seemed. Some part of him requires taming. I regret that it may have passed to you."
"That name is dead." Merrick responded.
She made a face that could have passed for sad. "Oh. Seems that he truly does require ownership. More's the pity."
"This is the last time I will ask you why you're here." He was hissing words by now he was so angry.
She only smiled. "I was curious about what you had become. I was hoping to see some fell thing that wanted an escape from its cage. Instead I see that you're doing a good job at playing that you are tame. How often is it, I wonder, that you are desperate for violence." The world around them shimmered again, but the desert remained. "What do you do when that happens? Do you run back home, to the desert that gives you a beautiful outlet? Do you flex those muscles and put them to use?"
Merrick closed his eyes and then in a rush of cold air the two of them were back in the tea house, hand in hand. He glared at them then yanked backwards. "I make things." He snapped as he threw his glove back on.
She reclined luxuriously in the worn, soft chair. "As do I, my son. As do I."
Merrick slapped money on the table and left his cup warm and steaming. He stalked out the door with her words beating him around his ears. He had no way of knowing that in her own way, his mother was so. Very. Proud