L'étoile Noire (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
etoile_noire) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomweekly2016-02-01 09:40 pm
etoile_noire) wrote in fandomweekly2016-02-01 09:40 pm
Entry tags:
[#001] The Verdict (Original)
Theme Prompt: New Beginnings
Title: The Verdict
Fandom: Original
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 924
Summary: Sometimes defying family and tradition can only be paid for with more defiance.
Skendar eyed the messenger coldly. It wasn't the young male's fault; he'd been chosen for his speed, after all. But looking at that small, lithe frame shifted his anger to something more primal. Instinctively, the messenger drew back, pulling his head closer to his body.
"When was the Council?"
"It happened on the first of the month."
Skendar nodded curtly and waved the younger male off. One he was gone, Skendar went deeper into his home, into the maze-like spirals, finding his way in the darkness without need of light. Only he and the females ever knew where the nursery was. Even his brothers would be lost in this part of their own home.
He had been the youngest of his father's children. Stefan was both the eldest and the only other son of his mother. As the eldest, Stefan had taken their father's place on the Council when the time had come. As the youngest male, Skendar had no real voice in society. It fell to the youngest male to guard the children of his brothers and his unmarried sisters. It was the role of the youngest to never marry, to never have children of his own. As such, it was not an enviable duty.
The youngest males had always been able to get away with things their older brothers never could. Over the years, he had pushed every boundary. Often times, Stefan had brought the message from the Council to 'not do it again'. Twice his father's grandsire, Valerian, who sat at the head of the Council, had ordered a more strenuous punishment, although Skendar had gotten out of it both times simply because no one would take his duty for even a short time. It had made him indispensable to the family.
This will be the true test of my value, he thought with some chagrin as he climbed up into an alcove at a dead end. A tight s-curve saw him into the bright lights of the nursery, where he was immediately pounced upon by half-a-dozen hatchlings.
"Off of me, ingrates," he commanded with half a grin and a shake of his shoulders.
The young males scattered with high, trilling cries that were not yet speech. They were the size of kittens and the membrane between their forelimbs and bodies was yet too delicate for flight, although they were already covered with pale, downy fur. Most of them looked like his brothers; scales that were varying shades of ivory with darker crests and pale blue eyes.
"Sister-daughter," he called to a younger female who was curled up alone. "Come and walk with me."
There was a great deal of snickering from the hatchlings. The female who followed Skendar out of the nursery was different. While her eyes were the same pale blue of her mother's family, her scales were nearly brown. Her wings were also different than the others, being covered with golden-brown feathers. She was longer than Skendar was, but her frame was too small and compact for a pure wyvern. Were it not for her back legs, she could be mistaken for a winged serpent.
Skendar led her to the mouth of the cave their family called home. He sat curling his tail around his claws, not unlike a cat, and looked up at the sky. It was a clear day, and cold. The air tasted of frost. She sat beside him, mimicking his posture but saying nothing.
"They will be here in five days, and you are to be dead in seven." Skendar saw her lower her head from the corner of his eye but he offered her no words of comfort. "Have you been practicing as I asked, Vedeta?"
"Of course, Uncle."
Skendar's scales rippled and he shifted. A somewhat short and portly man sat where Skendar had been. While the Nuhssu were talented mimics, few could mimic humans. Skendar had heard tales of Nuhssu who could take on different human forms, with different colorings than their own. He dismissed those tales as myths and nothing more.
"Show me."
Vedeta had clear difficulty shifting, but she managed it, although it left her short of breath.
"You have never shown Stefan?"
"Never, Uncle. You asked that I not."
He nodded. Stefan, and the others on the Council, felt she was too willful. He'd never had such a problem with her. She'd always been his favorite, this half-breed daughter of his clutch sister.
"Down below at the base of the waterfall is a bag for you. It has money and clothing. You will have to remain in that form until you are far away. You will be alone, in an alien place, among people that are not your own."
He touched her cheek briefly before shifting back into his natural state. He didn't say another word to her as he rose and went back into the cave. He would not tell her to go nor would he watch he if she did. He was gladdened to hear the unsteady human footfalls as she walked away from her home.
In five days' time, she would be well beyond the reach of the Council, well beyond Valerian's insistence on strict adherence to ancient tradition. Maybe she would find her father's people, or maybe some humans who would make her their family. And if his value to his family was not as great as he thought, she would be too far to hear of his dying in her place. That was something he could live with, something he could die with.
Title: The Verdict
Fandom: Original
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 924
Summary: Sometimes defying family and tradition can only be paid for with more defiance.
Skendar eyed the messenger coldly. It wasn't the young male's fault; he'd been chosen for his speed, after all. But looking at that small, lithe frame shifted his anger to something more primal. Instinctively, the messenger drew back, pulling his head closer to his body.
"When was the Council?"
"It happened on the first of the month."
Skendar nodded curtly and waved the younger male off. One he was gone, Skendar went deeper into his home, into the maze-like spirals, finding his way in the darkness without need of light. Only he and the females ever knew where the nursery was. Even his brothers would be lost in this part of their own home.
He had been the youngest of his father's children. Stefan was both the eldest and the only other son of his mother. As the eldest, Stefan had taken their father's place on the Council when the time had come. As the youngest male, Skendar had no real voice in society. It fell to the youngest male to guard the children of his brothers and his unmarried sisters. It was the role of the youngest to never marry, to never have children of his own. As such, it was not an enviable duty.
The youngest males had always been able to get away with things their older brothers never could. Over the years, he had pushed every boundary. Often times, Stefan had brought the message from the Council to 'not do it again'. Twice his father's grandsire, Valerian, who sat at the head of the Council, had ordered a more strenuous punishment, although Skendar had gotten out of it both times simply because no one would take his duty for even a short time. It had made him indispensable to the family.
This will be the true test of my value, he thought with some chagrin as he climbed up into an alcove at a dead end. A tight s-curve saw him into the bright lights of the nursery, where he was immediately pounced upon by half-a-dozen hatchlings.
"Off of me, ingrates," he commanded with half a grin and a shake of his shoulders.
The young males scattered with high, trilling cries that were not yet speech. They were the size of kittens and the membrane between their forelimbs and bodies was yet too delicate for flight, although they were already covered with pale, downy fur. Most of them looked like his brothers; scales that were varying shades of ivory with darker crests and pale blue eyes.
"Sister-daughter," he called to a younger female who was curled up alone. "Come and walk with me."
There was a great deal of snickering from the hatchlings. The female who followed Skendar out of the nursery was different. While her eyes were the same pale blue of her mother's family, her scales were nearly brown. Her wings were also different than the others, being covered with golden-brown feathers. She was longer than Skendar was, but her frame was too small and compact for a pure wyvern. Were it not for her back legs, she could be mistaken for a winged serpent.
Skendar led her to the mouth of the cave their family called home. He sat curling his tail around his claws, not unlike a cat, and looked up at the sky. It was a clear day, and cold. The air tasted of frost. She sat beside him, mimicking his posture but saying nothing.
"They will be here in five days, and you are to be dead in seven." Skendar saw her lower her head from the corner of his eye but he offered her no words of comfort. "Have you been practicing as I asked, Vedeta?"
"Of course, Uncle."
Skendar's scales rippled and he shifted. A somewhat short and portly man sat where Skendar had been. While the Nuhssu were talented mimics, few could mimic humans. Skendar had heard tales of Nuhssu who could take on different human forms, with different colorings than their own. He dismissed those tales as myths and nothing more.
"Show me."
Vedeta had clear difficulty shifting, but she managed it, although it left her short of breath.
"You have never shown Stefan?"
"Never, Uncle. You asked that I not."
He nodded. Stefan, and the others on the Council, felt she was too willful. He'd never had such a problem with her. She'd always been his favorite, this half-breed daughter of his clutch sister.
"Down below at the base of the waterfall is a bag for you. It has money and clothing. You will have to remain in that form until you are far away. You will be alone, in an alien place, among people that are not your own."
He touched her cheek briefly before shifting back into his natural state. He didn't say another word to her as he rose and went back into the cave. He would not tell her to go nor would he watch he if she did. He was gladdened to hear the unsteady human footfalls as she walked away from her home.
In five days' time, she would be well beyond the reach of the Council, well beyond Valerian's insistence on strict adherence to ancient tradition. Maybe she would find her father's people, or maybe some humans who would make her their family. And if his value to his family was not as great as he thought, she would be too far to hear of his dying in her place. That was something he could live with, something he could die with.
no subject
no subject