comment_fic 837: Highlander
Nov. 14th, 2013 01:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tigriswolfTitle: There's trees in the desert since you moved out
Fandom: Highlander
Disclaimer: the ones you don't recognize are mine; lyrics from Zager and Evans; title from BtVS
Warnings: cannibalism, violence, aftermath of multiple plagues; very pre- and then a little post-series
Pairings: none
Rating: Rish?
Wordcount: 1190
Point of view: third
Note: I chose the names for a reason, but I shan't tell unless asked. *shrugs*
Prompt: author's choice, author's choice,
"What do they do with the old where you come from?"
"We put them on thrones and call them gods."
"What do your people do with the old where you come from?" the boy asks, barely a man. His sister, not yet a woman, watches from the shadows, fingers tight around the blade; blood drips down her arm to mingle with the dirt. In the distance, smoke billows up to block out the sun.
He smiles at them, these little survivors, and he says, "We put them on thrones and call them gods."
...
There is no new plague, merely variations of the same old one. (Pestilence, he thinks, brother, how I've missed you. Mayhap we'll ride again soon.) Plague attacks the very old and the very young before turning on everyone else.
The brother and sister who follow him from the corpse-ridden village were executed as demons when the plague had barely begun to eat the villagers, a sacrifice to appease the gods. Now, they alone are left, orphans a dozen times over.
They do not speak their names; neither does he.
...
When they are attacked by bandits, the girl guts five men, the boy three, and he slaughters the rest. "Feast," he tells them. "We can use the horses."
The boy hesitates, disgust on his face, but the girl hacks off meat from one of the bandit's arms. "Eat," she orders, offering it to her brother.
The boy can barely force down half a helping; the girl eats until she can barely move.
He flicks his gaze from one to the other and plans.
...
"Nidaba," he says, while the boy fetches water, a season after he found them, "which do you love more: your life or your brother?"
She lunges to her feet, fingers on her blade, and hisses, "How do you know my name?"
"A name for a name," he says. "I am Marduk." He pauses, watching her watch him, and then says, "Think on it." He settles back down to start a fire for warmth while the boy comes back up the path with three skins of water.
...
Another season passes. The children do not grow, though Marduk teaches them to fight as he learned: to lose is to die. They awaken every time. "We are gods," he says, smiling, and Nidaba nods while the boy shakes his head.
"We are cursed," he argues, and Marduk laughs.
"So are gods," he says, watching the girl watch him. Her gaze flicks to her brother and then away.
...
They follow the plague, plundering dead villages for supplies; the plague does not touch them. Cannot. The boy does not believe, but Nidaba laughs at the pretty jewels hidden beneath an infested blanket, at the kittens that tumble behind her, and she says, "I am a god triumphant," leaning down to wrap her arms around a bitch plump with puppies.
Only gods and the sacred animals survive pestilence. The boy glances around warily, fearful of the gods striking them where they stand for blasphemy, for sacrilege – but the girl sacrifices the healthiest bull in her own name and orders them both to feast.
The boy falls onto the meat as if he were starving (he is, for he is such a picky little thing) and Nidaba watches him. Marduk waits until they both are sated before taking the rest.
...
Marduk stops at the ocean, where they have followed the sun. "Do you know how to kill a god?" he asks.
Nidaba and her brother shake their heads. "Would you like to learn?" he asks, glancing at Nidaba before flicking his gaze at her brother and then back to the ocean.
"You are a fool," the boy accuses. "Gods do not die!"
"No," Nidaba answers, both of them ignoring the boy. "Not yet."
Smiling, Marduk leans down to scoop up some water and rubs it into the back of his neck.
Nidaba does not look at her brother.
…
While the boy hunts, Nidaba kneels in front of Marduk and murmurs, "Please, old one, teach me to kill a god."
Marduk raises her chin with a gentle hand and promises, "I shall."
...
Ten seasons have passed when Nidaba takes her blade to her brother's neck. There are no tears on her face when she makes the final cut and his head rolls to Marduk's feet. Lightning springs from his body to hers, and still she does not weep.
"Eat," Marduk tells her, "for you are a god."
She raises her head, prepares the meat, and feasts.
...
"How long," Nidaba asks, pouring the dirt over her brother's bones, "until you sacrifice me in your name?"
Marduk laughs. "I do not sacrifice in my name, child." He lifts his face to the sun, listens to the howling wind, and turns to her. "But we go our separate ways now."
He doesn't look back.
...
It is the turn of the century in Vienna, and there is a god sitting on a park bench.
"Hullo, Marduk," a young woman who will never grow older says, settling beside him.
"Nidaba," he replies, inclining his head.
"With Darius and Rebecca gone," she says, "we are the oldest."
"Yes," he says, smiling.
There is a woman stalking him, and a Boy Scout tracking the woman, and a watcher (or two, or three) watching it all, but here, now, there are two gods sitting in a park, and the sun is shining, and they speak in a language never written down.
...
"You are a monster!" Cassandra screams, swinging her sword. The Boy Scout is shouting, the watchers watching avidly (save one, who is arguing with himself about interfering), and he waits for the opportune moment.
One block, one swing, one head flying.
"Of course," he says into the resounding silence. "All gods are monsters."
"Methos!" MacLeod shouts, tears in his eyes, gaze going from the body to the man he thought his friend.
Cassandra 's quickening goes to MacLeod because even in death she hates the god who owned her for half a millennia.
MacLeod raises his sword. Joe lunges for him, holds him back, and the god's gaze goes to the watchers cowering in the shadows. "Methos is a legend," he says, tired of hiding. "My first name in your history books is Marduk, and I was old then." He smiles at them and doesn't look back at MacLeod or Joe as he walks away.
...
"My brothers are dead," the oldest man tells the oldest woman in the world.
"Must all four be present to ride?" she asks. "Once, we stalked the world, from ocean to ocean."
He laughs. "So be it."
...
There are two gods in an Aston Martin, traveling to Beijing from Rome. His name is Aminon; hers is Anann.
Hell does not follow them, but a plague builds on the rising winds, and there is already too little food for the people scuttling about on the planet that grows smaller all the time.
Aminon laughs as Anann turns the music up louder and they both sing along.
Now it's been ten thousand years, man has cried a billion tears
For what, he never knew, now man's reign is through
But through eternal night, the twinkling of starlight
So very far away, maybe it's only yesterday
Fandom: Highlander
Disclaimer: the ones you don't recognize are mine; lyrics from Zager and Evans; title from BtVS
Warnings: cannibalism, violence, aftermath of multiple plagues; very pre- and then a little post-series
Pairings: none
Rating: Rish?
Wordcount: 1190
Point of view: third
Note: I chose the names for a reason, but I shan't tell unless asked. *shrugs*
Prompt: author's choice, author's choice,
"What do they do with the old where you come from?"
"We put them on thrones and call them gods."
"What do your people do with the old where you come from?" the boy asks, barely a man. His sister, not yet a woman, watches from the shadows, fingers tight around the blade; blood drips down her arm to mingle with the dirt. In the distance, smoke billows up to block out the sun.
He smiles at them, these little survivors, and he says, "We put them on thrones and call them gods."
...
There is no new plague, merely variations of the same old one. (Pestilence, he thinks, brother, how I've missed you. Mayhap we'll ride again soon.) Plague attacks the very old and the very young before turning on everyone else.
The brother and sister who follow him from the corpse-ridden village were executed as demons when the plague had barely begun to eat the villagers, a sacrifice to appease the gods. Now, they alone are left, orphans a dozen times over.
They do not speak their names; neither does he.
...
When they are attacked by bandits, the girl guts five men, the boy three, and he slaughters the rest. "Feast," he tells them. "We can use the horses."
The boy hesitates, disgust on his face, but the girl hacks off meat from one of the bandit's arms. "Eat," she orders, offering it to her brother.
The boy can barely force down half a helping; the girl eats until she can barely move.
He flicks his gaze from one to the other and plans.
...
"Nidaba," he says, while the boy fetches water, a season after he found them, "which do you love more: your life or your brother?"
She lunges to her feet, fingers on her blade, and hisses, "How do you know my name?"
"A name for a name," he says. "I am Marduk." He pauses, watching her watch him, and then says, "Think on it." He settles back down to start a fire for warmth while the boy comes back up the path with three skins of water.
...
Another season passes. The children do not grow, though Marduk teaches them to fight as he learned: to lose is to die. They awaken every time. "We are gods," he says, smiling, and Nidaba nods while the boy shakes his head.
"We are cursed," he argues, and Marduk laughs.
"So are gods," he says, watching the girl watch him. Her gaze flicks to her brother and then away.
...
They follow the plague, plundering dead villages for supplies; the plague does not touch them. Cannot. The boy does not believe, but Nidaba laughs at the pretty jewels hidden beneath an infested blanket, at the kittens that tumble behind her, and she says, "I am a god triumphant," leaning down to wrap her arms around a bitch plump with puppies.
Only gods and the sacred animals survive pestilence. The boy glances around warily, fearful of the gods striking them where they stand for blasphemy, for sacrilege – but the girl sacrifices the healthiest bull in her own name and orders them both to feast.
The boy falls onto the meat as if he were starving (he is, for he is such a picky little thing) and Nidaba watches him. Marduk waits until they both are sated before taking the rest.
...
Marduk stops at the ocean, where they have followed the sun. "Do you know how to kill a god?" he asks.
Nidaba and her brother shake their heads. "Would you like to learn?" he asks, glancing at Nidaba before flicking his gaze at her brother and then back to the ocean.
"You are a fool," the boy accuses. "Gods do not die!"
"No," Nidaba answers, both of them ignoring the boy. "Not yet."
Smiling, Marduk leans down to scoop up some water and rubs it into the back of his neck.
Nidaba does not look at her brother.
…
While the boy hunts, Nidaba kneels in front of Marduk and murmurs, "Please, old one, teach me to kill a god."
Marduk raises her chin with a gentle hand and promises, "I shall."
...
Ten seasons have passed when Nidaba takes her blade to her brother's neck. There are no tears on her face when she makes the final cut and his head rolls to Marduk's feet. Lightning springs from his body to hers, and still she does not weep.
"Eat," Marduk tells her, "for you are a god."
She raises her head, prepares the meat, and feasts.
...
"How long," Nidaba asks, pouring the dirt over her brother's bones, "until you sacrifice me in your name?"
Marduk laughs. "I do not sacrifice in my name, child." He lifts his face to the sun, listens to the howling wind, and turns to her. "But we go our separate ways now."
He doesn't look back.
...
It is the turn of the century in Vienna, and there is a god sitting on a park bench.
"Hullo, Marduk," a young woman who will never grow older says, settling beside him.
"Nidaba," he replies, inclining his head.
"With Darius and Rebecca gone," she says, "we are the oldest."
"Yes," he says, smiling.
There is a woman stalking him, and a Boy Scout tracking the woman, and a watcher (or two, or three) watching it all, but here, now, there are two gods sitting in a park, and the sun is shining, and they speak in a language never written down.
...
"You are a monster!" Cassandra screams, swinging her sword. The Boy Scout is shouting, the watchers watching avidly (save one, who is arguing with himself about interfering), and he waits for the opportune moment.
One block, one swing, one head flying.
"Of course," he says into the resounding silence. "All gods are monsters."
"Methos!" MacLeod shouts, tears in his eyes, gaze going from the body to the man he thought his friend.
Cassandra 's quickening goes to MacLeod because even in death she hates the god who owned her for half a millennia.
MacLeod raises his sword. Joe lunges for him, holds him back, and the god's gaze goes to the watchers cowering in the shadows. "Methos is a legend," he says, tired of hiding. "My first name in your history books is Marduk, and I was old then." He smiles at them and doesn't look back at MacLeod or Joe as he walks away.
...
"My brothers are dead," the oldest man tells the oldest woman in the world.
"Must all four be present to ride?" she asks. "Once, we stalked the world, from ocean to ocean."
He laughs. "So be it."
...
There are two gods in an Aston Martin, traveling to Beijing from Rome. His name is Aminon; hers is Anann.
Hell does not follow them, but a plague builds on the rising winds, and there is already too little food for the people scuttling about on the planet that grows smaller all the time.
Aminon laughs as Anann turns the music up louder and they both sing along.
Now it's been ten thousand years, man has cried a billion tears
For what, he never knew, now man's reign is through
But through eternal night, the twinkling of starlight
So very far away, maybe it's only yesterday
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2013-11-15 02:55 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-11-17 03:24 am (UTC)Thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2013-11-25 01:36 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-11-26 03:15 pm (UTC)Thank you so very much!
I'm mostly on A03, too. It's just so much easier to find things there.