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fandomweekly2016-02-12 04:01 pm
corvinity) wrote in fandomweekly2016-02-12 04:01 pm
Entry tags:
[#002] Control (Skulduggery Pleasant)
Theme Prompt: Practice Makes Perfect
Title: Control
Fandom: Skulduggery Pleasant
Rating/Warnings: PG13? (implications of murder, implications of war, implications of POV character being a terrible person)
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 479
Summary: Introspection. Pre-canon, China Sorrows, and the difference between what she was and what she is.
The easy part, she discovers, is stepping out of the war.
Impressive, since at the time it had seemed to take everything she had to make that final decision. Enough, no more; China Sorrows is neutral. But now here she is, unknown in a little town deep in central Europe where the war doesn’t reach, and it’s simply not feasible to vent her displeasure on every little person who irritates her.
Not to mention it would make her rather easier to find. A trail of bodies has always been somewhat easier to follow than a trail of swooning mortals. Beauty fades in the memory; blood takes somewhat longer.
So it’s simply practical to leash her temper, constrain herself. Restrain her magic. A matter of self-preservation and remaining relatively inconspicuous. It’s her choice, which is what makes it tolerable. China has had rather enough of being controlled by anyone or anything that isn’t her.
That doesn’t mean it isn’t difficult.
It takes practice, again and again, drawing spite back beneath her skin. She is young, she knows, young and arrogant, but that is no excuse for having sub-par mastery over herself. In some way it reminds her of being a child again, drawing the lines of the same sigil over and over and over until her hands stop shaking, until the ink draws perfect smooth curves. It took time, then, before it became second nature to her.
As it takes time now. Someone looks askance at her, and China curls her fingers into her palm, but for the bite of nails rather than the promise of pain inflicted. A man in the square sneezes nearly on her, and she contents herself with a bitterly withering look directed downward, does not casually maim him for the indignity.
Progress.
It’s years of this, much to her disdain. What was built up over a century is not pulled down in one day. The dull practice of being less weaves into her everyday, as China unpicks her upbringing and practices controlling herself, shuts up sadism and fury where they will be let out only when she wants them.
The war passes her by. It’s terribly boring, from where she stands, but she’s alive, and her enemies, for the most part, aren’t. Control is a hard-won thing, but China is her own, and no one else’s.
And when Skulduggery Pleasant turns up on her doorstep, all empty skull and low-simmering rage woven into his bones, it’s that same long, dull practice that keeps the earth from dropping out under her. China loved him, once; China feared him, once. There are some reasons she still does both.
She puts all that away, and she smiles at him, and she is perfectly controlled.
Her hands don’t shake any more.
Title: Control
Fandom: Skulduggery Pleasant
Rating/Warnings: PG13? (implications of murder, implications of war, implications of POV character being a terrible person)
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 479
Summary: Introspection. Pre-canon, China Sorrows, and the difference between what she was and what she is.
The easy part, she discovers, is stepping out of the war.
Impressive, since at the time it had seemed to take everything she had to make that final decision. Enough, no more; China Sorrows is neutral. But now here she is, unknown in a little town deep in central Europe where the war doesn’t reach, and it’s simply not feasible to vent her displeasure on every little person who irritates her.
Not to mention it would make her rather easier to find. A trail of bodies has always been somewhat easier to follow than a trail of swooning mortals. Beauty fades in the memory; blood takes somewhat longer.
So it’s simply practical to leash her temper, constrain herself. Restrain her magic. A matter of self-preservation and remaining relatively inconspicuous. It’s her choice, which is what makes it tolerable. China has had rather enough of being controlled by anyone or anything that isn’t her.
That doesn’t mean it isn’t difficult.
It takes practice, again and again, drawing spite back beneath her skin. She is young, she knows, young and arrogant, but that is no excuse for having sub-par mastery over herself. In some way it reminds her of being a child again, drawing the lines of the same sigil over and over and over until her hands stop shaking, until the ink draws perfect smooth curves. It took time, then, before it became second nature to her.
As it takes time now. Someone looks askance at her, and China curls her fingers into her palm, but for the bite of nails rather than the promise of pain inflicted. A man in the square sneezes nearly on her, and she contents herself with a bitterly withering look directed downward, does not casually maim him for the indignity.
Progress.
It’s years of this, much to her disdain. What was built up over a century is not pulled down in one day. The dull practice of being less weaves into her everyday, as China unpicks her upbringing and practices controlling herself, shuts up sadism and fury where they will be let out only when she wants them.
The war passes her by. It’s terribly boring, from where she stands, but she’s alive, and her enemies, for the most part, aren’t. Control is a hard-won thing, but China is her own, and no one else’s.
And when Skulduggery Pleasant turns up on her doorstep, all empty skull and low-simmering rage woven into his bones, it’s that same long, dull practice that keeps the earth from dropping out under her. China loved him, once; China feared him, once. There are some reasons she still does both.
She puts all that away, and she smiles at him, and she is perfectly controlled.
Her hands don’t shake any more.
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