elfscribe5: (Swordspoint cover)
I haven't forgotten that I owe some drabbles.  This one popped up suddenly this evening and I thought I'd better seize it before it gallumphed off along with my regular muses. It's from the Swordspoint fandom, 100 words, and  inspired by [livejournal.com profile] heartofslash's challenge (although I'd like to do a longer one at some point sweetie.) This is also for  [livejournal.com profile] ennorwen   as the first one I did  for her was rather bizarre.  I hope this is more what you wanted En. Enjoy! 


“Well, at least I don’t have pigeon shit for brains,” Alec goaded.

“Are you insane, scholar?” the two-bit swordsman roared. “Where’s your weapon?”  He twitched back his cloak and his hand hovered over the polished hilt.

Richard could almost see steam emanating from the man’s ears and he had a moment to reflect that Alec wielded words like a sword - sharp, cutting, to the point. Too bad that, ultimately, they had no substance.

With a flourish the man drew, the point hovering over the tender hollow of Alec’s throat. Richard knew how soft that skin was.  

“My fight,” Richard said.


Aug. 23rd, 2008 04:33 pm
elfscribe5: (Default)
Posting the first three of my 8 drabbles here.  Recipients have already commented, so no need to do so again. 
All these should be 100 words exactly.

For [personal profile] talullahred   request  something from The Persian Boy by Mary Renault
They have drenched me in a primal sound like the surf’s thunderous exaltation. “Bagoas! Bagoas!” they roar.  A seething motion of limbs and faces, colored banners waving in frenzy.  I am drunk on it. So, this is what it’s like for him.  This adulation.  No wonder he craves it.  “Go on,” someone prods.   I see a beloved face, glint of golden hair, and mount the stairs on Eros-gifted wings.  He sets the laurel wreath on my head, eyes bright with pride that is for me alone.  The others recede and all sound fades except for the beating of my heart.

For [personal profile] red_lasbelin   request - Glorfindel from Osse’s Gift
He was not Erestor, this pale elf who eyed him longingly over the glass of claret.   He did not possess a sweep of ebony hair and glittering eyes, nor a haughty tilt to the chin that, charm as he might, Glorfindel could not cajole or soften.  He did not dance like a dragonfly, or eat strawberries with a frisson of longing. He could not vivisect some foolish fop with a honeyed word nor curse like a wounded soldier.  He did not glare when Glorfindel's hand slid over another’s willing arse. He was not Erestor.  But he would have to do.

For [profile] ennorwen   request:  Richard and Alec from Swordspoint
Explanation: This is from the scene where Richard discovers Alec has taken a powerful drug called "Fool's Delight." 
"The stars are watching me," he [Alec]declared in a voice of terrible pain. "Make them stop!"

The stars wanted to tear out his eyes.  Equations prowled the room, inking themselves on the curtains, marching to the tune of a sickly sweet smell. Manacle bruises marked his wrists. His tongue so thick. The book his only hope. He cradled it, caressed the cool, burgundy leather against his cheek. Richard’s gift of love.  They wanted to take it from him: they,  the dreadful stars, Lord Horn, the Duchess, and the twittering bat‑like scholars. Well, they couldn’t have it!  He opened the grate, and one at a time, tore out the creamy pages, and fed them to the fire.



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