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kh_drabbleTitle: Foundling
Challenge: [60]: Sanctuary
Wordcount: 458
Characters: Ansem, others
Spoilers: Spoilers for characters in KH2 ahead! Arguably spoilers for the whole mess, in fact ...
Notes: Sometimes fate draws people together ...
His world was darkness and fever-dream and the burning of a body pushed beyond endurance,
his mind a shivering fragile thing held together by sheer will, long since emptied of any scrap of identity or past.
The storm was merciless, tearing at ragged clothing and plastering his old-ivory hair into his face. Through wind and rain he staggered down the flagstoned, water-worn street he's never before seen; and a shivering cry escaped him as he stumbled, blood-bruised flesh scraping against unyielding stone.
Still he pressed onward, thin hope leading him through the dimming haze of his own mind.
Through blood-stained eyes as bright as embers he could glimpse a great open gate and the softly-gleaming lights beyond, and they drew him like a fluttering, dying moth.
For a small eternity he struggled towards the rain-washed gardens, the phantom lights, already flame-bright to half-frozen flesh --
He reached his goal as rose touched the sky, and half-ran, half fell past the bright-wrought bronze.
A wicked lance brought him up short, wild-eyed and panting; a wind-keen blade leveled at his throat.
He reared back confused as half-remembered nightmare raged in his mind, and met eyes as blue as lightning and wind-whipped hair black as the storm.
And if eyes were any measure of intent, this apparition meant to be his death.
“Dilan, wait a moment.”
A second stranger stepped smoothly from the shadow of the gatehouse, and he caught a fast-dimming glimpse of short curls like old blood and a great curving blade fit to cleave the worlds in twain.
“Don't be so quick to judge. Look at him.
“His Majesty should see him, at the least, before he coughs his life out in this tempest.”
The lancer's response – though low, and heated – was lost to a sudden roaring in his ears, as battered and bleeding he slid to the cool rain-soaked stone. Only dimly did he comprehend the slender lance clattering to rest nearby; barely aware of strong hands breaking his fall, and a voice deep as stone asking him to wait just another breath ...
The world swam back into existence when another hand tilted his head up gently and brushed the clinging ivory locks from his face; and his flickering ember gaze met eyes like burning amber, hair pale as the sun and the air of hard-earned wisdom.
Fearful, now, and failing fast as the fever shook him, he tried to jerk away; and was rewarded with a soothing murmur as the darkness pulled him under.
“You're safe, lad, you've nothing to fear now.
“Elaeus, you did well to summon me.
“Please, bring him within; we've a life to save tonight ...”
Challenge: [60]: Sanctuary
Wordcount: 458
Characters: Ansem, others
Spoilers: Spoilers for characters in KH2 ahead! Arguably spoilers for the whole mess, in fact ...
Notes: Sometimes fate draws people together ...
His world was darkness and fever-dream and the burning of a body pushed beyond endurance,
his mind a shivering fragile thing held together by sheer will, long since emptied of any scrap of identity or past.
The storm was merciless, tearing at ragged clothing and plastering his old-ivory hair into his face. Through wind and rain he staggered down the flagstoned, water-worn street he's never before seen; and a shivering cry escaped him as he stumbled, blood-bruised flesh scraping against unyielding stone.
Still he pressed onward, thin hope leading him through the dimming haze of his own mind.
Through blood-stained eyes as bright as embers he could glimpse a great open gate and the softly-gleaming lights beyond, and they drew him like a fluttering, dying moth.
For a small eternity he struggled towards the rain-washed gardens, the phantom lights, already flame-bright to half-frozen flesh --
He reached his goal as rose touched the sky, and half-ran, half fell past the bright-wrought bronze.
A wicked lance brought him up short, wild-eyed and panting; a wind-keen blade leveled at his throat.
He reared back confused as half-remembered nightmare raged in his mind, and met eyes as blue as lightning and wind-whipped hair black as the storm.
And if eyes were any measure of intent, this apparition meant to be his death.
“Dilan, wait a moment.”
A second stranger stepped smoothly from the shadow of the gatehouse, and he caught a fast-dimming glimpse of short curls like old blood and a great curving blade fit to cleave the worlds in twain.
“Don't be so quick to judge. Look at him.
“His Majesty should see him, at the least, before he coughs his life out in this tempest.”
The lancer's response – though low, and heated – was lost to a sudden roaring in his ears, as battered and bleeding he slid to the cool rain-soaked stone. Only dimly did he comprehend the slender lance clattering to rest nearby; barely aware of strong hands breaking his fall, and a voice deep as stone asking him to wait just another breath ...
The world swam back into existence when another hand tilted his head up gently and brushed the clinging ivory locks from his face; and his flickering ember gaze met eyes like burning amber, hair pale as the sun and the air of hard-earned wisdom.
Fearful, now, and failing fast as the fever shook him, he tried to jerk away; and was rewarded with a soothing murmur as the darkness pulled him under.
“You're safe, lad, you've nothing to fear now.
“Elaeus, you did well to summon me.
“Please, bring him within; we've a life to save tonight ...”
