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rainbowfic2012-11-07 09:09 pm
shadowsong26) wrote in rainbowfic2012-11-07 09:09 pm
Shadow #9, Bone #1, Gunmetal #4
Name: shadowsong26
Story: Runaway
'Verse: Feredar
Colors: Shadow #9. kidnapping, Bone #1. corpse road, Gunmetal #4. Machete Jr
Supplies and Materials: eraser (Desshiri!verse), acrylic, watercolors, oils, stain, pastels (my current GRK card "FREE SPACE"), chalk, novelty beads ("I am trying to find a way/Blind in the dark dungeon's night" - The Hobbit, Blind Guardian), glitter ("For all his bluster, it is the sad province of man that he cannot choose his triumph. He can only choose how he will stand when the call of destiny comes, hoping he will have the courage to answer." – Mohinder Suresh, from Heroes)
Word Count: 572
Rating: R
Characters: Desshiri, Andrell
Warnings: References to torture and enslavement
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always. This takes place in an alternate 987 FY.
Andrell shifted back and forth nervously, keeping an eye on the guard, grateful--for the moment--for the snow, since it muffled him. Why Aunt Rema had come to him instead of Deva, or even Mera...
But she had, so here he was. He was just waiting on a signal, and then he'd go in and get the princess. Never mind that she might not believe him--Deva and Mera were probably better for that, both blonde, similar height and build, like Mother had been, and there was no way of knowing how much Aunt Rema had told her about him.
And the snow would be a problem, soon. The princess was a fire-mage; it would be dangerous for her. Not as dangerous as staying. Aunt Rema won't be able to stall much longer. At least Father doesn't know who she is...
He shivered, and then the guard finally moved. Andrell waited a few seconds, holding his breath, but he was gone, really gone, out of sight.
He ghosted across the snow and pushed the heavy door to the prison open. It didn't creak. He let out a long slow breath, then ran.
He counted the doors as he went down the hall, as fast as he could. Seventeen, eighteen--there. Up the stairs, winding tighter and tighter, then the top of the tower. The princess--even without knowing who she was--was considered especially dangerous.
She was curled up in the corner farthest from the tiny barred window. He could see her shivering.
"Princess?" he whispered.
She jerked. She looked over at him. Her dark eyes caught and swallowed what little light there was. He hadn't been able to bring a torch, it was too risky. "Who are you?" she whispered back.
"My name's Andrell. My aunt sent me; she's been working with you..."
"The King's youngest son?" she asked, a little uncertain.
He slumped a little, relieved. She did know him, at least enough to recognize his name. "Yes. We have to go; the guard won't be distracted for long."
She watched him for a few seconds. Please. Please believe me, we have to go, I can't get caught here with you, they'll kill us both before they realize who I am...
After a heart-stopping moment, she pulled herself up with the bars.
He fumbled with the keys Aunt Rema had given him and got the door open. He offered her a hand. She flinched back a little, then steeled herself and took it.
He helped her balance down the stairs, then stole the guard's cloak and wrapped it around her. She wouldn't really pass for one, she was too slight, the cloak overwhelming her, but at least her face was hidden and maybe from a distance it would work until they got to the Movement safehouse. And it would keep her relatively warm and dry.
The snow had picked up. Good, more cover, they'd need it. "The safehouse isn't far," he assured her.
The hood moved up and down--she was nodding. All right.
They reached the alcove where he had hidden to watch before just as the guard rounded the corner back. He let out a long slow breath, full of relief. With any luck, he won't check and her absence won't be noticed until tomorrow.
Without waiting to find out, he pulled her away into the swirling snow, moving as fast as she could for the safehouse.
Story: Runaway
'Verse: Feredar
Colors: Shadow #9. kidnapping, Bone #1. corpse road, Gunmetal #4. Machete Jr
Supplies and Materials: eraser (Desshiri!verse), acrylic, watercolors, oils, stain, pastels (my current GRK card "FREE SPACE"), chalk, novelty beads ("I am trying to find a way/Blind in the dark dungeon's night" - The Hobbit, Blind Guardian), glitter ("For all his bluster, it is the sad province of man that he cannot choose his triumph. He can only choose how he will stand when the call of destiny comes, hoping he will have the courage to answer." – Mohinder Suresh, from Heroes)
Word Count: 572
Rating: R
Characters: Desshiri, Andrell
Warnings: References to torture and enslavement
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always. This takes place in an alternate 987 FY.
Andrell shifted back and forth nervously, keeping an eye on the guard, grateful--for the moment--for the snow, since it muffled him. Why Aunt Rema had come to him instead of Deva, or even Mera...
But she had, so here he was. He was just waiting on a signal, and then he'd go in and get the princess. Never mind that she might not believe him--Deva and Mera were probably better for that, both blonde, similar height and build, like Mother had been, and there was no way of knowing how much Aunt Rema had told her about him.
And the snow would be a problem, soon. The princess was a fire-mage; it would be dangerous for her. Not as dangerous as staying. Aunt Rema won't be able to stall much longer. At least Father doesn't know who she is...
He shivered, and then the guard finally moved. Andrell waited a few seconds, holding his breath, but he was gone, really gone, out of sight.
He ghosted across the snow and pushed the heavy door to the prison open. It didn't creak. He let out a long slow breath, then ran.
He counted the doors as he went down the hall, as fast as he could. Seventeen, eighteen--there. Up the stairs, winding tighter and tighter, then the top of the tower. The princess--even without knowing who she was--was considered especially dangerous.
She was curled up in the corner farthest from the tiny barred window. He could see her shivering.
"Princess?" he whispered.
She jerked. She looked over at him. Her dark eyes caught and swallowed what little light there was. He hadn't been able to bring a torch, it was too risky. "Who are you?" she whispered back.
"My name's Andrell. My aunt sent me; she's been working with you..."
"The King's youngest son?" she asked, a little uncertain.
He slumped a little, relieved. She did know him, at least enough to recognize his name. "Yes. We have to go; the guard won't be distracted for long."
She watched him for a few seconds. Please. Please believe me, we have to go, I can't get caught here with you, they'll kill us both before they realize who I am...
After a heart-stopping moment, she pulled herself up with the bars.
He fumbled with the keys Aunt Rema had given him and got the door open. He offered her a hand. She flinched back a little, then steeled herself and took it.
He helped her balance down the stairs, then stole the guard's cloak and wrapped it around her. She wouldn't really pass for one, she was too slight, the cloak overwhelming her, but at least her face was hidden and maybe from a distance it would work until they got to the Movement safehouse. And it would keep her relatively warm and dry.
The snow had picked up. Good, more cover, they'd need it. "The safehouse isn't far," he assured her.
The hood moved up and down--she was nodding. All right.
They reached the alcove where he had hidden to watch before just as the guard rounded the corner back. He let out a long slow breath, full of relief. With any luck, he won't check and her absence won't be noticed until tomorrow.
Without waiting to find out, he pulled her away into the swirling snow, moving as fast as she could for the safehouse.
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He really, really is.
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He does his best, yes.
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Yeah, it wasn't easy for her, but Rema did tell her a rescue was coming, and Andrell matched what she'd been told about him.