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slackerspice
Jan. 28th, 2011 07:56 am (UTC)
#6 - And Where Were You?
Notes: Title was taken from Angie Hart's "Blue".
Disclaimer: Farley Claymore belongs to David Koepp.


I never thought much about the idea of the moon as seductress. Reminded me too much of a romance novel I snarked my way through back in Chicago - weres, destined mates, everything but the furry kitchen sink.

Right now - can't think of much else. Doors locked and curtains drawn, but I can't block him/her/it out: the silent pulse of something unconscious and alien and very much alive, moving across the horizon, blind to everything beneath her.

Seductive, yes, but not in the "do me, you gorgeous hunk of manbeast" sense - she hums with power, deep and forever like an endless sea, and just as freely given. Would be so easy to open myself to it and be rid of mind-reading debutante brats and snobby dragon bastards and unwanted gifts and all these pointless useless fucking lines in the sand. One good damn day and-

I beat my dented pillow, wishing I could bitchslap my id that easily. That way lies madness - and a shard of glass in my frontal lobes. If I'm lucky.

The moon floats just behind the curtains. I feel like she will rap at the window any second, pale and full, her face still as a breezeless lake.

I throw the pillow over my head, blocking out the room, pretending I don't know.

Night's not over yet...
slackerspice
Jan. 29th, 2011 03:47 am (UTC)
#11 Old - No Doubts
He should be dead.

Ten years dead now, by his count.

It's hard to notice anything else when he looks at himself in the mirror, bemused at gray hairs and thinking about when Brigid will come home, when he should be ash several times over.

If he'd let himself stop and think about it, he'd admit that it feels like someone made a mistake.

Sander would have waxed poetic about how Fate is a strange mistress who abides by no mortal sense of right and wrong and sees more than any mere mortal.

Bill might have said that Fate is a dizzy twist with no damn sense.

Jack thought about it for a minute, decided that "Shit happens", and Andrew left it at that. He understood better than most about that.

No doubts, he'd said. He knew he'd made the right choices then, and he knew that he'd damned everyone because of it.

Too late, now, he thinks, the candle fluttering in the plastic bowl as he places it in the water. He'd fled Rapture, leaving it to rust, helped care for the children, watched them live what he'd promised their families.

The candle floats off, shrinking into a speck, then nothing. He glances back at Masha, mourning people she can barely remember. He looks back at the sea, remembering Diane telling him that he needs rest, Bill laughing at one of their private jokes.

He was too late to fix things, but he won't let Rapture destroy anyone else - he owes them that, if not more.

Maybe he doesn't deserve to live, but it beats the alternative.
slackerspice
Jan. 30th, 2011 03:47 am (UTC)
#16 goodwill - A man chooses...
Notes:

This "Jack" is a mystery. By all rights, he should have been cut down by the first security bot he met, but he makes his way towards Hephaestus as I speak!

Even stranger is how he deals with the children. Atlas's thugs usually show no mercy, gutting them like trout for a few points of ADAM. But now, thanks to Jack, almost a third of the ones are free. Tannenbaum's influence, no doubt. Das Wunderkind has finally grown a conscience...

ADAM is everything down here - before the war, he would have been laughed out of Rapture. Now, you need every drop just to survive.

Who would risk death - or worse - just to save one little girl, or avenge a parasite like Atlas?

...It seems that I might need to look into Suchong’s little pet project for Fontaine...
slackerspice
Jan. 30th, 2011 07:02 am (UTC)
#21 warm - Since We've No Place To Go...
NOTES: SEX. No. Seriously.


Dani smiled to herself as she looked out the window. Snow flaked from the inky branches, helped along by the wind.

God, she'd missed snow - white and gleaming, like the world had been covered in flour and glitter. Hell, she'd even missed hiking in it; the cold had only added to the beauty (for all of thirty seconds.) Waking up next to someone at that point was a bonus.

Billy murmured incoherently, pulling himself closer. Dani smiled, tracing a finger over his lips, and he stirred.

"Warm enough?" He yawned.

"Yeah." She settled down next to him. "Could be warmer, though."

"Oh?" He smiled hungrily, tracing the curve of her breasts with a free hand. "Really?"

Another smile, teeth glinting in the dull light as he pulled the top up over her chest. He licked his lips, cupping her as she arched back, offering herself to him. He smiled - how could he say no?

Dani gasped as he leaned in, tongue scalding hot against her nipple, then moaned as his mouth closed around it. After a moment, she let him roll her onto her back, and felt his erection press against her inner thigh.

God, she'd missed snow...
slackerspice
Jan. 30th, 2011 09:59 pm (UTC)
#1 present - Just In Case
"Fired?!"

Farley heard Daniel jerk the phone away.

"No - not officially, anyway. Officially, you're taking an extended sabbatical until we can replace the Bastards That Be. No one knows that you were involved with Shiwan, but since he used the very project that you were pushing..."

"I see..."

"If you're allowed to come back, you'll probably be put in a low-profile group, most likely with Dr. Lane."

"Joy..." He wasn't sure if Dr. Lane knew about him, but he wasn't about to risk it, not after leaving him to die, and not with Margo on the watch for future backstabbing.

"If something happens, I'll send Harry with a message. Sorry."

click

He scowled, not looking at the receiver as he dropped it onto the floor. Seven years, seven goddamn years of working with those bastards, and this was how it ended - a half-assed attempt at rebellion and winding up a bigger pariah than before. Yes, he was finally done with them, and he'd deserved every second, but-

knok knok

The package was simple white cardboard, a blank piece of paper stuck under the twine. As he looked, resisting the urge to shake it, the image of a man in a cloak and slouch hat blurred into view.

The wand, wood and bronzium inlay, sat inert in every sense of the word, but he sensed the channels Daniel had built and reinforced in it. Without missing a beat, he picked the note up again, just in time to catch the words in Lamont's handwriting.

Just in case.
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