WIP meme

Aug. 3rd, 2007 01:32 am
lady_songsmith: owl (writing)
[personal profile] lady_songsmith
When you see this, post a little weensy excerpt from as many random works-in-progress as you can find lying around. Who knows? Maybe inspiration will burst forth and do something, um, inspiration-y.

WIP, huh? Yeah, we got lots o'that!

Witchblade fic I haven't looked at since second season made me WTF?

Then I felt the familiar tingling that was at the back of my brain as much as it was on my wrist, which told me la lann was trying to tell me something. I touched the bracelet lightly, but I was unprepared for the force of the vision. Suddenly I found myself transported... elsewhere. With clarity such as I have not experienced since the periculum, I saw myself crowning my pupil, grown into the full bloom of manhood. It felt right, to the very depths of my soul, and as my hands fell away from the crown, his came up to clasp them warmly, and I knew we were more than just master and pupil.

The vision ended as abruptly as it had overtaken me, leaving me blinking at the undergrowth before me, trying the realign my thoughts to the real world. I was a moment before I remembered where (and when) I was, and another before I realized that Conchobar was leaning over me, concern written large on his face.

“Cathain? Are you well?” His voice sounded frightened, I thought, but dismissed it as a passing fancy.

"Fine, Conchobar," I replied quietly, forcing myself to remove my hand from la lann slowly rather than snatch it away. "It was just..." I searched for some excuse of explanation, and then my eyes met his and the truth fell from my lips without my consent. "...just the price I pay to wield la lann an caillagh." Not that I minded the visions, really; I’d had years to become accustomed to them. But the shock with which the strong ones announced themselves, the loss of time and reality when in their grip, and the subsequent headaches, one of which pounded behind my eyes even now – those, I could live without.

"Price?" He frowned, sitting down beside me. "I didn’t know there was a price you had to pay."

"All power comes with a price, Conchobar," I replied, a little more sharply than I’d intended. "What are you prepared to pay, hm? For your dream of uniting the tribes?"

"Whatever I have to," he answered quickly, but firmly.

"Bold words brazenly spoken, pupil," I said, smirking a little as my tone returned to normal. "You won’t achieve that dream until you can give a true answer to that question." Now I was steady again; we were teacher and student once more. Then I looked into his eyes, and as before it was my undoing. "When the day comes that you can answer me that from your heart," I promised, "I will fight beside you."

Coming of Shadow, Promise of Light -- Marauders-Era Potter fic, derailed by stupid revelations of character in Book 5

Peter waited eagerly for one of them to mention his future contributions to the fight against Voldemort. In his imagination he conjured up scenes of him standing with his friends watching packs of Death Eaters be dragged off to prison. A warm feeling filled him; together they’d be unstoppable.

"Going to apply to the Ministry, Wormtail?" Sirius asked, bringing him back to reality.
"Hmm? Oh, yeah! You bet!"

"What department?" James grabbed a handful of Bertie Botts and passed the carton along to Remus.

Peter felt his spirits sink a little. Wasn’t it obvious? "M-magical Law Enforcement."

Sirius’ eyebrows shot up. "Really? Peter – you know you don’t have to stay near us – strike out on your own!"

"Yeah, you can do it," James enthused. "We have faith in you!"

What could he say to that? "Th-thanks, guys." But he stared glumly at his wizard cards while James and Sirius regaled Remus with predictions about the adventures they’d have. If they had so much faith in him, why didn’t they think he could work Law Enforcement? Just because he wasn’t top of the class--! We can’t all be Head Boy, he thought sulkily. There are plenty of good-but-not-great wizards out there; why shouldn’t I be one of them? But none of his friends seemed to notice his sullen silence.

Waking the Circle, DiR fic not so much abandoned as being stonewalled by a stubborn Welsh bard

"What have we here?" The honeyed words dripped like poison. "The little harper and... a friend?"
"Let him be," Taliesin said quietly.

"Come now, minstrel, what harm is there in my speaking to him? Or do you fear even that?" White teeth flashed within the shadows of the hood.
"You have no power here."

"And you have no power to stop me, Gwion," the man snapped, darkness gathering in his eyes.

Emrys glanced at his new friend, saying softly, "Gwion?"

Taliesin shook his head. "A name," he said. "Just another name."

The flame-haired man chuckled. "Always so evasive, little harper. Have you something to fear from truth?"

A change rolled over Emrys's companion then, as sudden and as visible as the clouds of a summer thunderstorm. "Truth?" he repeated, drawing himself up, a cold light flashing within his piercing gaze. "What know you of truth, my lord?"

"Do you challenge me, boy? Shape-changer, faithless one, what know you of truth? Does your friend there know the truth of you?"

Emrys, watching in silent incomprehension, felt their mutual awareness return to him, though they still stared at each other. Taliesin's jaw worked, but he made no reply, and Emrys, moved by some impulse he did not understand, stepped up beside his new friend. "It does not matter," he declared boldly. "He is what he is."

Dark is Rising fic that I had the good sense not to post as a WIP

His friend shrugged, motioning him to a chair and taking one himself. "I’m alright, really. Da and I – we were never that close. The worst part is the loneliness, the empty house. It will be good to have company. Now, sit down, Sais bach –" he grinned suddenly, all tension gone "—and tell me why it is you turn up at my door looking like the world has used you for target practice."

Will grinned back at the use of the nickname, and obediently took a seat. But his good humor vanished as quickly as it had come. "I – needed to get away from my family. We’ve been having... difficulties." He accepted the mug of tea and help it cupped in his hands, staring out beyond the fall wall. "Did you know my brother Robin died?" Not waiting for an answer, he contined, "It’s been tense around the house ever since, and recently Paul just – snapped. They’re – they were – twins. I suppose that’s worse, you know, than losing a regular sibling... Anyway, I needed to get out. And I thought, we haven’t seen each other in a while, and we always seem to have a good time..."

Sirius didn't go after Peter AU, abandoned, though I do like the opening...

He turned into the lane and for a split-second that felt like a lifetime, he was disoriented. Then his eyes focused on the familiar ground – the garden, the looping walkway, the house, above which stars twinkled peacefully in the clear night sky... Sky. Clear.

There was no Dark Mark.

Sirius’s heart stopped; his breath seized in his lungs; his knees turned to water. All his being was focused on one thought, that revolved endlessly in his mind: ThankyouThankyouThankyou...

But... wait. Why did he smell... smoke?

Panic returned in a rush that had him halfway to the front door before he’d registered the decision to take the first step. Flinging the door open with a crash that knocked plaster from the wall, he paused on the threshold to glance about, wand at the ready. A small part of his mind noted the damage he’d done to the wall, but that was all right, as long as Lily came running downstairs to scold him about it...

The house was deathly silent.

He wished he’d thought of a different metaphor.

Night of Sorrow -- original fantasy piece that started - believe it or not - as one of those stupid 'use these vocabulary words in a story' assignments

The last demon-summoner had died two hundred years ago, after throwing the entire world into chaos. There were still places in the land where the remains of his work could be seen. I had visited one such area in my travels; the land was desolate, and those who lived there (I could not fathom why) could scarcely scratch out an existence from the barren soil. But the worst of the demon-summoner's legacy were the Eltin'ka.

The Eltin were my people, one of the very few groups to resist the last summoner, and the only to have any effect on him. For that great good fortune, we had been cursed with great ill fortune, for balance is always maintained.

The summoner, incensed by out resistance, devoted all his attention to destroying us. Some say that he believed that, if he could eliminate us, he would have no further obstacles to his struggle to dominate the world.

He could not destroy us.

That was our greatest shame.

Although he could not destroy us, he could -- and did -- conquer us, and while our destruction might have removed all obstacles from his path, our subjugation gave him aid beyond measure. He harnessed the same powers that we had used to oppose him; he drew on us, fed on us, to replenish his powers and some of us... Some of us, he turned.

Sailor Moon, scrapped all but the best bits upon realization that it was unconciously duplicating someone else's story. Now trying to retcon a plot.

(Haruka's POV)
I had to leave. In another moment I was going to cry or be sick. I wasn't sure I wouldn't do both anyway, and I didn't want anyone to see. So I left, and it was all I could do to keep from running. My fault. I'm good at running. Spent years doing it. But I haven't felt the need to flee in a long time. I've been happy, even with the fighting. Somewhere along the line I discovered that accepting my duty didn't have to mean giving up my dream -- as if she would have allowed it.

Usagi-chan. The little dreamer. My fault. Odango atama, head in the clouds, when her mind's not on food, anyway. Our princess. The only person besides Michiru who can get under my skin…

red scrapes, dark bruises against the pale skin

Oh, God.

Michiru followed me, I know. I can feel her there behind me, keeping pace, but not catching me up. She won't force her way in unless she feels it's absolutely necessary. She respects my privacy, as I do hers, and the few times she's pushed me I've wanted her to. Too scared to invite her in, but wanting her there. She knew, of course. Not like a certain blond whirlwind, who always seems to be there when she's least wanted, always pushing me to admit things…

She's right, too. Damn it.

I keep walking. My fault. I desperately want to run, to flee these thoughts and burdens, but I learned once that they would just be waiting for me at the other end of the race.

My fault.


To hell with dignity. I run.


This is bliss. The wind rushes into my face, stinging, and I welcome it like an old friend. Behind me I can hear the footsteps of the person who means the most to me in all the world --


-- and they are as echoes to mine, perfectly timed. Nothing can drag at me here; the wind does not hold me back but helps me forward, and I run without stopping, breath smooth in my lungs,

... m...

heart steady, only the faintest trace of sweat breaking out on my skin. I could run like this forever.

I am forced to stop eventually, having run out of land. Of course. The sea. Where else would I run to? And she is behind me, her arms sliding around me as I gaze out on the waves; I am completely embraced by the sea. A small part of me is aware of her heartbeat against my back, we are pressed so closely. It is faster than mine; she keeps up with me, but running is not her passion and life as it is mine.

My fault.

Damn. Even here.

There are a couple more I wanted to post, but it seems they only exist on physical paper at the moment. Perhaps later I'll type a bit of them up and post.
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