![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
edenfallingMore Three Sentence Ficathon fills. :-)
---------------
lady_songsmith, Narnia, Any, vampire!AU (link to fill)
always at a price (145 words)
In England the need had been muted, but since their return through the wardrobe Edmund had felt a creeping, hollow chill stretch clawed fingers through his body, settling in his mouth and jaw as a queer, throbbing ache -- and no food the Beavers offered seemed to soothe the pain, settling instead as a leaden mass in his cramping guts.
He vomited in the woods, watched undigested fish and bread spill across the snow in a pool of blood, and knew that he was dying, that only the Queen and her magic could save him.
When she slit her wrist with a long, ice-sharp nail and ordered him to drink, when his fangs descended through his tattered lips, when he could hear the pulse of living blood in every wolf and prisoner within the castle walls, he had no strength left to resist the hunger.
---------------
and a continuation of the above: link to fill
call that a bargain (195 words)
They hadn't noticed in the immediate aftermath of the battle, but when Edmund paled and pushed away his offered supper it became impossible to ignore that the changes the Witch had induced seemed unexpectedly permanent.
"But oughtn't he to be cured, if Aslan took his place, and then he drank my cordial?" Lucy asked Susan in an undertone.
"If everything that ought to be true really were true, we shouldn't have been in Narnia at all, because there would not have been any war to hide from back home," Susan whispered back. "Not every story ends with happily ever after."
Lucy looked at Edmund, watched him climb shakily to his feet and brush off Peter's awkward attempt at comfort, drawing the fire-cast shadows around himself like a shroud. "Well, I think that's wrong. Even if Edmund is different now, he's still our brother, and I'd rather he drink blood than go back to acting hateful the way he did this whole last year."
She stood from her cushion in the tent the Narnians had helped them raise on the banks of the Beruna, halfway between the battlefield and the sea, and went to offer her blood.
---------------
Note: There are a bunch of other excellent fills for that prompt. There is also a continuation of my fills by the wonderfulvialethe
---------------
shallowness, Avengers, Steve/Darcy, timekeeping
if it ain't broke (110 words)
"Shit, my battery's dead, what's the time?" Darcy demands, one hand still tapping futilely against her phone as if trying to will her fingers into generating electricity.
Steve glances at his wristwatch, one of the few indulgences he'd purchased with his decades of accumulated back pay and interest: this world is alien in so many ways that science fiction never dreamed of, but a Swiss watch is still a Swiss watch, solid and stable enough to last through the generations.
"Quarter past six; we'll make our reservation," he says, tapping the watch face in mimicry of his girlfriend's gesture; and Darcy looks up from her useless phone with a smile.
---------------
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
with_rainfall, anthropomorphic, pot & kettle, relative blackness
fossilization (55 words)
Neither is black except for their handles: the pot is bright steel with a copper bottom, the kettle a battered forest green. When the cook makes a scathing remark to her assistant, the pot sends a resigned bubble up through the tangle of pasta and the kettle whistles drily in return. Humans never do make much sense.
---------------
with_rainfall, Any, any, Falling flowering snow/ and gentle dancing rain (John Marsden, So Much to Tell You)
great nature's second course (110 words)
The Tree's death is a gaping, bleeding tear in the land, the Witch's footsteps on her stones and soil salt in the wound. As the snow begins to fall -- soft, silent, relentless as the death it heralds -- Narnia goes willing into sleep, for in sleep the pain is muted and she can remember brighter days, whose like she is sure will never come again, not in a thousand years.
But the snow shields her from the Witch's touch and Aslan's song twines through her dreams for three thousand nights and more, softening the Tree's loss to a scar, until the voices of children wake her to the gentle rains of spring.
---------------
Hmm. I should probably get to work putting all these into my master lists, shouldn't I? Which reminds me that I wanted to reorganize those anyway, to give my Homestuck fics a separate page -- I have certainly written enough of them to warrant it! Yeah, I think that will be this evening's project.
But first, groceries. Food is slightly more relevant to life than a tidy online presence. *wry*
---------------
lady_songsmith, Narnia, Any, vampire!AU (link to fill)always at a price (145 words)
In England the need had been muted, but since their return through the wardrobe Edmund had felt a creeping, hollow chill stretch clawed fingers through his body, settling in his mouth and jaw as a queer, throbbing ache -- and no food the Beavers offered seemed to soothe the pain, settling instead as a leaden mass in his cramping guts.
He vomited in the woods, watched undigested fish and bread spill across the snow in a pool of blood, and knew that he was dying, that only the Queen and her magic could save him.
When she slit her wrist with a long, ice-sharp nail and ordered him to drink, when his fangs descended through his tattered lips, when he could hear the pulse of living blood in every wolf and prisoner within the castle walls, he had no strength left to resist the hunger.
---------------
and a continuation of the above: link to fill
call that a bargain (195 words)
They hadn't noticed in the immediate aftermath of the battle, but when Edmund paled and pushed away his offered supper it became impossible to ignore that the changes the Witch had induced seemed unexpectedly permanent.
"But oughtn't he to be cured, if Aslan took his place, and then he drank my cordial?" Lucy asked Susan in an undertone.
"If everything that ought to be true really were true, we shouldn't have been in Narnia at all, because there would not have been any war to hide from back home," Susan whispered back. "Not every story ends with happily ever after."
Lucy looked at Edmund, watched him climb shakily to his feet and brush off Peter's awkward attempt at comfort, drawing the fire-cast shadows around himself like a shroud. "Well, I think that's wrong. Even if Edmund is different now, he's still our brother, and I'd rather he drink blood than go back to acting hateful the way he did this whole last year."
She stood from her cushion in the tent the Narnians had helped them raise on the banks of the Beruna, halfway between the battlefield and the sea, and went to offer her blood.
---------------
Note: There are a bunch of other excellent fills for that prompt. There is also a continuation of my fills by the wonderful
vialethe---------------
shallowness, Avengers, Steve/Darcy, timekeepingif it ain't broke (110 words)
"Shit, my battery's dead, what's the time?" Darcy demands, one hand still tapping futilely against her phone as if trying to will her fingers into generating electricity.
Steve glances at his wristwatch, one of the few indulgences he'd purchased with his decades of accumulated back pay and interest: this world is alien in so many ways that science fiction never dreamed of, but a Swiss watch is still a Swiss watch, solid and stable enough to last through the generations.
"Quarter past six; we'll make our reservation," he says, tapping the watch face in mimicry of his girlfriend's gesture; and Darcy looks up from her useless phone with a smile.
---------------
with_rainfall, anthropomorphic, pot & kettle, relative blacknessfossilization (55 words)
Neither is black except for their handles: the pot is bright steel with a copper bottom, the kettle a battered forest green. When the cook makes a scathing remark to her assistant, the pot sends a resigned bubble up through the tangle of pasta and the kettle whistles drily in return. Humans never do make much sense.
---------------
with_rainfall, Any, any, Falling flowering snow/ and gentle dancing rain (John Marsden, So Much to Tell You)great nature's second course (110 words)
The Tree's death is a gaping, bleeding tear in the land, the Witch's footsteps on her stones and soil salt in the wound. As the snow begins to fall -- soft, silent, relentless as the death it heralds -- Narnia goes willing into sleep, for in sleep the pain is muted and she can remember brighter days, whose like she is sure will never come again, not in a thousand years.
But the snow shields her from the Witch's touch and Aslan's song twines through her dreams for three thousand nights and more, softening the Tree's loss to a scar, until the voices of children wake her to the gentle rains of spring.
---------------
Hmm. I should probably get to work putting all these into my master lists, shouldn't I? Which reminds me that I wanted to reorganize those anyway, to give my Homestuck fics a separate page -- I have certainly written enough of them to warrant it! Yeah, I think that will be this evening's project.
But first, groceries. Food is slightly more relevant to life than a tidy online presence. *wry*
(no subject)
Date: 2013-04-09 03:45 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-04-10 03:48 am (UTC)