Sparkindarkness 69 - Reunited
Jul. 11th, 2005 08:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sparkindarknessWell, THAT took a long time. Funny how some things look real short from a distance but get real long - I thought I'd cover Darren finding Rick in one post. Shows how much I know.
Still, they are back and they're together. At last.
Oh, and I have to write smut in honour of the number of this post. Yummy.
The tower was filmed with ice, a layer of glass covering it all. The sleet still fell to the floor where it froze, slowly building up an icy prison around the tower. I wondered what would happen if we had left it for a year - would the ice have continued to rise? Would it have emerged to completely encase the tower? Would Rick have stayed here until the ice covered him and sealed him off forever?
There was a rush of steam, Liam and Nikolai stepped back to avoid being scalded. I looked at them and they both leaped back another step. I could feel my eyes glowing. Feel the renewed burn of my wards as my anger called my powers.
I stormed up the tower, a sudden, almost inexplicable rage consuming me. I don’t think I had ever been this angry, gods, I had never been so enraged before. My anger normally flares hot then dies - or flares then dies to embers that smoulder darkly and bitterly. Never like this, never such burning rage that makes it hard to think.
There were things in the tower. Guardians, monsters, reflections of Rick’s grief or tortured imaginings - I don’t know. They died. I was too angry to feel the pain of the wards, either that or the nerves were deadened. I rode my magic, all of my magic, and let it flow around me in devastating waves. Liam and Nikolai had long since fallen behind, out of the line of fire, out of the waves of destruction - maybe just away from a Sorcerer in his full powers. I didn’t know. I didn’t care. They died, they fell apart, they were destroyed - I don’t know how they died, what could destroy such creatures, and again, I didn’t care, pure destructive energy sufficed.
I staggered to the top of the tower, one large room. I could faintly hear Nikolai and Liam creeping behind me, moving carefully around the ruins of the walls I had left in my wake and the corpses scattered behind me. I was bone deep tired. Pure destruction, not tailored even slightly, was powerful and difficult magic after an extremely arduous day, only rage and will kept me moving forwards. Only fury gave me the power to shatter that last door and all but crawl into the room.
The room was dark, barren and almost empty. They only thing in this empty silent cell of a room lay in the middle of the floor. The figure looked worn, even after so little time. Stubble marred his face and he seemed to have lost weight. He raised blue eyes to meet me, blue eyes that were terribly blood shot and dry and hard from too many tears - tears that stained his stubbled, reddened face. If he had slept in the past few days there was no indication. He licked his lips, managing to force out words from his dry mouth “Darren…?” The eyes widened in shock. “Darren?!”
I ran forwards, no thinking required, my body was drawn to him. I touched his face, so terribly gently, as if I was afraid he’d break. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”
He blinked at me in shock. I didn’t stop. “Is this your plan, then? Something happens to me you’re going to seal yourself in some frozen tower like a bloody morbid sleeping beauty?! You lunatic!” I was hissing with rage. “If and when I die I do not want to go to the grave knowing I’ve dragged you down with me!”
“Darren…” He still traced my face, pressing at my skin as if he didn’t believe I was real.
“What were you thinking? Or is Ghost right, do you never think?! How unstable do you have to be for this madness? Bloody hell, it’s not like you didn’t know my life was in danger. It wasn’t like you never had chance to prepare yourself!”
“Darren…” There were tears then, even from his dried and painful eyes.
“Gods!” Tears were falling down my own face, I don’t even remember when I started crying. “Don’t ever do this again. Don’t let me murder you with my death - don’t you dare!”
He grabbed me and pulled me tightly to him, so tightly I had no more air left to rant with. But suddenly ranting was out of my head, I just clung to him, desperately, fiercely. I tore the rags he had for clothes just trying to pull him closer, but that was OK, because he tore mine as well. His tears flowed onto my shoulder but only mirrored mine onto him. We wept out the worry and pain and horror of the last week, feelings we could never put into words and would never want to. For what seemed like hours we just clung to each other, luxuriating in the fact that we were both still alive to touch, both still whole and sane and together. Hours, but not nearly enough, I didn’t think it ever could be, not now.
Eventually, slowly, we pulled apart. Near identical small, happy little sad smiles on our faces. “I mean it,” I said. “don’t you make me murder you with my death.”
“Don’t you die on me, then.”
“I can’t promise that… but I’ll try not to.”
“Then I can’t promise not to follow you into the grave, but I’ll try not to.”
“I suppose I’ll have to settle with that.”
“I guess so. You look like shit, by the way.” He grinned then, a little watered down, but it was a grin. He would be OK. Thank you gods, he would be OK.
“No worse than you,” I grimaced and rubbed his chin, “next time you run off in angst ridden despair - which, I might add, is clearly my role in this relationship, you’re the one who picks up the pieces.”
“Wait, who says? How come I have to be the repair guy?”
“I say and I’m Camaalis which makes me infallible. Ask any of my family. Anyway pack an overnight bag next time you intend to fall apart and run away for a sulk. I have to be seen in public with you, I refuse to let people think I sleep with someone who is so ill-groomed.” I grabbed a couple of bristles and pulled cruelly.
“Ow! Hey, you fall into angst strops far more often then I do.” His hands never left me, constantly running up and down my body, as if he couldn‘t believe I was real. It was alright, I was doing the same thing to him.
“Yes, but I never look bad doing it.”
He laughed, a real laugh. He really was going to be ok. “Maybe, but you look pretty shit now. You loose all bitching rights.”
“I rose from the dead. And had to trek through your angst laden fantasies.” I kicked him, quite hard, actually. “AND had to battle my way past your stupid guards, each more annoying than the last. I’m allowed to look dishevelled. And I still look good.” I kicked him again for good measure. “And that’s for the girl who stalked us with her endless justice speeches.”
“Ow.” He tried to dodge away from me but couldn’t seem to let me go. “Did you kill her?”
“Not yet. But that,” another kick, “is for the woman with the big breasts and annoying laugh, that,” another kick, “is for the bouncing plumbers with the utterly over the top Italian accents. And tha-mmmph.” He grabbed me and lifted me to him. I was ready to kick him again when his lips met mine. Ye gods, it had been less than a week, but it seemed an eternity since last we kissed. I melted in his arms, it was almost involuntary, as if my body acted automatically top his touch and the press of his lips against mine. It wasn’t a passionate kiss, at least, insofar as any kiss with Rick can be less than burningly passionate, but it was deep and gentle and strong. It was possessive and protective and loving and scared. It was sad and joyous and full of love. His lips burned against mine, his tongue gently pushing into me, oh so tenderly. His body help me firmly, but I could feel the trembling in him, the desperate relief and terrible fear. It was OK, I was trembling too, it seemed to get harder but better the more we were pressed together, as we realised what an amazing thing we nearly lost but revelled in the joy of finding each other again.
He lowered me slowly, bending down as my feet came to the floor to hold the kiss for as long as was possible. Finally, after a near eternity, we grudgingly pulled apart. We smiled, part of me screamed inwardly at how soppy those mirrored smiles must have been, but I couldn’t seem to help it. We walked, hand in hand to the doorway to leave the tower - where voices were raised in conflict.
“I am not going in a room with an angry Sorcerer in it”
“I told you, I Saw it would be fine. Besides, can you hear anything?”
“That just means he’s killed everything in there. Not a reassuring thought, Seer.”
“I told you, I Saw it was safe.”
“But last time you looked ahead to See if we were safe you missed the damn Sorcerer stabbing me!”
“We must go in and help him! We must help, for JUSTICE!”
“How the Hell did she get here?!”
If you don’t kill her, I’m going to.
I don’t think I’ll ever have a boring, safe, mundane life - even for a Camaalis. At one time it was my greatest regret, that my magic was so wrong, even that I had magic. I longed to be a normal Camaalis, to be accepted, I longed even to be normal and blind to magic. I even longed for death in the hope that the next life would be better than this - after all, it could hardly be worse, could it?
Now? I squeezed Rick’s hand and we walked to those bickering voices. Now I think my life isn’t all that bad. Keep the world moving and this heart beating, because I’m happy with this life.
For now anyway.
Still, they are back and they're together. At last.
Oh, and I have to write smut in honour of the number of this post. Yummy.
The tower was filmed with ice, a layer of glass covering it all. The sleet still fell to the floor where it froze, slowly building up an icy prison around the tower. I wondered what would happen if we had left it for a year - would the ice have continued to rise? Would it have emerged to completely encase the tower? Would Rick have stayed here until the ice covered him and sealed him off forever?
There was a rush of steam, Liam and Nikolai stepped back to avoid being scalded. I looked at them and they both leaped back another step. I could feel my eyes glowing. Feel the renewed burn of my wards as my anger called my powers.
I stormed up the tower, a sudden, almost inexplicable rage consuming me. I don’t think I had ever been this angry, gods, I had never been so enraged before. My anger normally flares hot then dies - or flares then dies to embers that smoulder darkly and bitterly. Never like this, never such burning rage that makes it hard to think.
There were things in the tower. Guardians, monsters, reflections of Rick’s grief or tortured imaginings - I don’t know. They died. I was too angry to feel the pain of the wards, either that or the nerves were deadened. I rode my magic, all of my magic, and let it flow around me in devastating waves. Liam and Nikolai had long since fallen behind, out of the line of fire, out of the waves of destruction - maybe just away from a Sorcerer in his full powers. I didn’t know. I didn’t care. They died, they fell apart, they were destroyed - I don’t know how they died, what could destroy such creatures, and again, I didn’t care, pure destructive energy sufficed.
I staggered to the top of the tower, one large room. I could faintly hear Nikolai and Liam creeping behind me, moving carefully around the ruins of the walls I had left in my wake and the corpses scattered behind me. I was bone deep tired. Pure destruction, not tailored even slightly, was powerful and difficult magic after an extremely arduous day, only rage and will kept me moving forwards. Only fury gave me the power to shatter that last door and all but crawl into the room.
The room was dark, barren and almost empty. They only thing in this empty silent cell of a room lay in the middle of the floor. The figure looked worn, even after so little time. Stubble marred his face and he seemed to have lost weight. He raised blue eyes to meet me, blue eyes that were terribly blood shot and dry and hard from too many tears - tears that stained his stubbled, reddened face. If he had slept in the past few days there was no indication. He licked his lips, managing to force out words from his dry mouth “Darren…?” The eyes widened in shock. “Darren?!”
I ran forwards, no thinking required, my body was drawn to him. I touched his face, so terribly gently, as if I was afraid he’d break. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”
He blinked at me in shock. I didn’t stop. “Is this your plan, then? Something happens to me you’re going to seal yourself in some frozen tower like a bloody morbid sleeping beauty?! You lunatic!” I was hissing with rage. “If and when I die I do not want to go to the grave knowing I’ve dragged you down with me!”
“Darren…” He still traced my face, pressing at my skin as if he didn’t believe I was real.
“What were you thinking? Or is Ghost right, do you never think?! How unstable do you have to be for this madness? Bloody hell, it’s not like you didn’t know my life was in danger. It wasn’t like you never had chance to prepare yourself!”
“Darren…” There were tears then, even from his dried and painful eyes.
“Gods!” Tears were falling down my own face, I don’t even remember when I started crying. “Don’t ever do this again. Don’t let me murder you with my death - don’t you dare!”
He grabbed me and pulled me tightly to him, so tightly I had no more air left to rant with. But suddenly ranting was out of my head, I just clung to him, desperately, fiercely. I tore the rags he had for clothes just trying to pull him closer, but that was OK, because he tore mine as well. His tears flowed onto my shoulder but only mirrored mine onto him. We wept out the worry and pain and horror of the last week, feelings we could never put into words and would never want to. For what seemed like hours we just clung to each other, luxuriating in the fact that we were both still alive to touch, both still whole and sane and together. Hours, but not nearly enough, I didn’t think it ever could be, not now.
Eventually, slowly, we pulled apart. Near identical small, happy little sad smiles on our faces. “I mean it,” I said. “don’t you make me murder you with my death.”
“Don’t you die on me, then.”
“I can’t promise that… but I’ll try not to.”
“Then I can’t promise not to follow you into the grave, but I’ll try not to.”
“I suppose I’ll have to settle with that.”
“I guess so. You look like shit, by the way.” He grinned then, a little watered down, but it was a grin. He would be OK. Thank you gods, he would be OK.
“No worse than you,” I grimaced and rubbed his chin, “next time you run off in angst ridden despair - which, I might add, is clearly my role in this relationship, you’re the one who picks up the pieces.”
“Wait, who says? How come I have to be the repair guy?”
“I say and I’m Camaalis which makes me infallible. Ask any of my family. Anyway pack an overnight bag next time you intend to fall apart and run away for a sulk. I have to be seen in public with you, I refuse to let people think I sleep with someone who is so ill-groomed.” I grabbed a couple of bristles and pulled cruelly.
“Ow! Hey, you fall into angst strops far more often then I do.” His hands never left me, constantly running up and down my body, as if he couldn‘t believe I was real. It was alright, I was doing the same thing to him.
“Yes, but I never look bad doing it.”
He laughed, a real laugh. He really was going to be ok. “Maybe, but you look pretty shit now. You loose all bitching rights.”
“I rose from the dead. And had to trek through your angst laden fantasies.” I kicked him, quite hard, actually. “AND had to battle my way past your stupid guards, each more annoying than the last. I’m allowed to look dishevelled. And I still look good.” I kicked him again for good measure. “And that’s for the girl who stalked us with her endless justice speeches.”
“Ow.” He tried to dodge away from me but couldn’t seem to let me go. “Did you kill her?”
“Not yet. But that,” another kick, “is for the woman with the big breasts and annoying laugh, that,” another kick, “is for the bouncing plumbers with the utterly over the top Italian accents. And tha-mmmph.” He grabbed me and lifted me to him. I was ready to kick him again when his lips met mine. Ye gods, it had been less than a week, but it seemed an eternity since last we kissed. I melted in his arms, it was almost involuntary, as if my body acted automatically top his touch and the press of his lips against mine. It wasn’t a passionate kiss, at least, insofar as any kiss with Rick can be less than burningly passionate, but it was deep and gentle and strong. It was possessive and protective and loving and scared. It was sad and joyous and full of love. His lips burned against mine, his tongue gently pushing into me, oh so tenderly. His body help me firmly, but I could feel the trembling in him, the desperate relief and terrible fear. It was OK, I was trembling too, it seemed to get harder but better the more we were pressed together, as we realised what an amazing thing we nearly lost but revelled in the joy of finding each other again.
He lowered me slowly, bending down as my feet came to the floor to hold the kiss for as long as was possible. Finally, after a near eternity, we grudgingly pulled apart. We smiled, part of me screamed inwardly at how soppy those mirrored smiles must have been, but I couldn’t seem to help it. We walked, hand in hand to the doorway to leave the tower - where voices were raised in conflict.
“I am not going in a room with an angry Sorcerer in it”
“I told you, I Saw it would be fine. Besides, can you hear anything?”
“That just means he’s killed everything in there. Not a reassuring thought, Seer.”
“I told you, I Saw it was safe.”
“But last time you looked ahead to See if we were safe you missed the damn Sorcerer stabbing me!”
“We must go in and help him! We must help, for JUSTICE!”
“How the Hell did she get here?!”
If you don’t kill her, I’m going to.
I don’t think I’ll ever have a boring, safe, mundane life - even for a Camaalis. At one time it was my greatest regret, that my magic was so wrong, even that I had magic. I longed to be a normal Camaalis, to be accepted, I longed even to be normal and blind to magic. I even longed for death in the hope that the next life would be better than this - after all, it could hardly be worse, could it?
Now? I squeezed Rick’s hand and we walked to those bickering voices. Now I think my life isn’t all that bad. Keep the world moving and this heart beating, because I’m happy with this life.
For now anyway.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2005-07-13 08:27 pm (UTC)hehehe i found this line funny. mdeperfect sense, but was still funny. i blame Jarrod.
*conciders all this very carefully* I can see this sort of thing happening to me. When you die unexpectedly it's hard to let friends and family know 'I'll be back in 10 minutes, for God's sake don't cremate me'. I just hope if I do die and take a while to come back I won't have to somehow trek through the Dreaming to go drag my best friend back from some grief induced psychotic episode.
Do you hear that Kevin?! Don't Make me come and Get you after I resurect!
(no subject)
Date: 2005-07-14 05:46 pm (UTC)