Flash Fiction Fills (Take 35) Part Two
Sep. 30th, 2012 10:33 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: Two more flash fiction with only the last two to come. All grammatical mistakes are mine alone. Please enjoy!
For mistress_pirate
Prompt: Lady Crysan and Sleet, “I can make it worth your while”
Universe: War of the Animum, pre-Darkness Descends, consider it canon. No warnings.
For azardarkstar
Prompt: legacies, Zuko and Iroh
Fandom: Avatar the Last Airbender. Warnings: None
a/n: I'm all moved in but I'm still assembling furniture and unpacking, so I'm still writing a bit slower than I'd like, but never fear, I shall prevail. :)
Flash Fiction Friday returns October 19th! And I have fics I'm editing/finishing up I"ll be posting over the course of the month.
Hope you enjoyed!
For mistress_pirate
Prompt: Lady Crysan and Sleet, “I can make it worth your while”
Universe: War of the Animum, pre-Darkness Descends, consider it canon. No warnings.
“Steal from Tylis?” Sleet winced as his incredulous tone approached a near-feminine pitch and forcefully toned it down. “Do you want me to die? Because that's pretty much the only likely outcome of this.”
Lady Crysan grinned a sharp-edged smirk, her painted lips a smear of crimson in the flickering torchlight. “Are you saying you're not skilled enough?”
Sleet snorted, crossing his arms, looking away from her. “I'm not going to fall for that bullshit either. I have plenty of talent. What I don't have is a deathwish.”
“What if I told you I know a way in that won't get you killed?”
Sleet arched a brow. “If you know all that, then you don't need me, do you?”
She crossed one leg over the other, an action which resulted in raising her skirt to bare more of the length of a creamy thigh. The sort of tease that would work on a full-blooded heterosexual male. Sleet didn't so much as twitch.
“You can't very well think that I'm going to crawl in through someone's window to retake what's mine in the first place, do you?” One shaped and painted fingernail tapped at her chin, highlighting the curve of her mouth.
Sleet was not convinced. “What you're failing to include in this so-called proposal is what I expect to get out of this life-risking venture.”
She waved a dismissive hand, which she then lowered to tease at the swell of her defined bosom. “Tylis is a pushover, if you know how to handle him. He wouldn't kill you.”
What Sleet was not hearing was a good reason to do this.
“So you say.” He tapped one boot against the floor, a series of low thuds sure to irritate the madam. “Benefits?”
Lady Crysan chuckled in that throaty way of hers that somehow managed to make chills dance down Sleet's spine. “Oh, I'm sure I could make it worth your while.”
Sleet narrowed his eyes. “Coin?”
“If you prefer.”
He did actually. Other thieves might want unrestricted access to Crysan's girls, but not Sleet. He wanted coin and maybe a bottle of that expensive ale she hoarded and deigned to share with him when he pouted enough to satisfy her sadistic tendencies.
“Ale, too. You know what kind I like.”
Lady Crysan's eyes glittered with amusement. “Anything else?”
Sleet couldn't help feeling like he was in way over his head. “If he kills me, I'm going to haunt you for the rest of your life.”
“And I imagine Frost won't be too pleased either.”
Sleet frowned. “What's he got to do with this?”
“Oh, nothing. Nothing at all.” She reached out, pulling a slim, wooden box from her vanity. “Do we have a deal then?” Crysan looked up at him, coquettish, fluttering her painted eyelashes and every bit the crook that Tylis was.
“Yeah,” Sleet said, snatching the box from her hands. “I'll get back your stupid thing.”
Lady Crysan's smile broadened, revealing the perfect lines of her teeth. “Perfect. As always, Sleet, it's a pleasure doing business with you.”
Why, oh why, did he feel like he'd just made a deal with the devil?
Lady Crysan grinned a sharp-edged smirk, her painted lips a smear of crimson in the flickering torchlight. “Are you saying you're not skilled enough?”
Sleet snorted, crossing his arms, looking away from her. “I'm not going to fall for that bullshit either. I have plenty of talent. What I don't have is a deathwish.”
“What if I told you I know a way in that won't get you killed?”
Sleet arched a brow. “If you know all that, then you don't need me, do you?”
She crossed one leg over the other, an action which resulted in raising her skirt to bare more of the length of a creamy thigh. The sort of tease that would work on a full-blooded heterosexual male. Sleet didn't so much as twitch.
“You can't very well think that I'm going to crawl in through someone's window to retake what's mine in the first place, do you?” One shaped and painted fingernail tapped at her chin, highlighting the curve of her mouth.
Sleet was not convinced. “What you're failing to include in this so-called proposal is what I expect to get out of this life-risking venture.”
She waved a dismissive hand, which she then lowered to tease at the swell of her defined bosom. “Tylis is a pushover, if you know how to handle him. He wouldn't kill you.”
What Sleet was not hearing was a good reason to do this.
“So you say.” He tapped one boot against the floor, a series of low thuds sure to irritate the madam. “Benefits?”
Lady Crysan chuckled in that throaty way of hers that somehow managed to make chills dance down Sleet's spine. “Oh, I'm sure I could make it worth your while.”
Sleet narrowed his eyes. “Coin?”
“If you prefer.”
He did actually. Other thieves might want unrestricted access to Crysan's girls, but not Sleet. He wanted coin and maybe a bottle of that expensive ale she hoarded and deigned to share with him when he pouted enough to satisfy her sadistic tendencies.
“Ale, too. You know what kind I like.”
Lady Crysan's eyes glittered with amusement. “Anything else?”
Sleet couldn't help feeling like he was in way over his head. “If he kills me, I'm going to haunt you for the rest of your life.”
“And I imagine Frost won't be too pleased either.”
Sleet frowned. “What's he got to do with this?”
“Oh, nothing. Nothing at all.” She reached out, pulling a slim, wooden box from her vanity. “Do we have a deal then?” Crysan looked up at him, coquettish, fluttering her painted eyelashes and every bit the crook that Tylis was.
“Yeah,” Sleet said, snatching the box from her hands. “I'll get back your stupid thing.”
Lady Crysan's smile broadened, revealing the perfect lines of her teeth. “Perfect. As always, Sleet, it's a pleasure doing business with you.”
Why, oh why, did he feel like he'd just made a deal with the devil?
For azardarkstar
Prompt: legacies, Zuko and Iroh
Fandom: Avatar the Last Airbender. Warnings: None
Iroh always worried that the only legacy he would leave for himself would be a son lost too early to the dregs of war, and a failed storming of the city of Ba Sing Se. The latter he could have lived with, the first was a stain upon his heart he could hardly bear.
Then came the event that would change the history of the Fire Nation forever.
His brother, Ozai, gave up the one thing in the world that Iroh would have killed to have again and at the same time, set the course to his own demise. Though none of them could have known it at the time.
Ozai discarded his son as though he were useless trash, burned and branded, expunged from his homeland. Just a child!
Iroh loves – loved – loves his brother. Somewhere, deep in Ozai's heart, remained the spark of the happy child that Iroh remembered. Maybe it was burnt away by the disregard of their father. Maybe in Ozai was a hint of what Zuko could have been had Iroh not taken the young Prince under his wing.
So many maybes. Too many uncertainties.
Iroh did, however, love Zuko. With every fragment of the old heart he still had left to beat.
Yes, at first, his insistence upon staying at his nephew's side might have been selfish. His son was gone and now, here was another. Not a replacement, not by any means, but someone else Iroh could love. Someone who was deserving of the love.
And in Zuko, Iroh found his own redemption as well.
Honor always was a fickle bastard.
He stayed by his nephew's side, through thick and thin, hoping and praying and begging the spirits would forgive him and not make Zuko suffer for his mistakes. Iroh longed to make the world right, to help his nephew become a man apart of Ozai's madness and Azula's cruelty.
Once, long ago, Iroh had tried to assist Azula as well. But she spurned his aid in such a manner that Iroh did not dare try again. Helping that child would require a spirit much braver, stronger, and more patient than Iroh's own.
At first, Zuko was equally belligerent. Equally unwilling to accept Iroh's wisdom. But Iroh could see the truth behind the arrogance, behind the anger. Behind it all was a sad, broken little boy who only wanted his father to love him. More than firebending talent, more than the throne, more than his honor, what Zuko really wanted was his father's love. Something that should have been given freely.
Something that Iroh had plenty to give.
He watched Zuko grow from a boy to a man, one outside of Ozai's influence, and then he watched as Zuko ascended to kingship of the fire nation. Iroh couldn't be prouder, and he felt the weight of a shameful legacy shift from his shoulders as he stood in the crowd, watching his nephew be crowned.
Zuko's achievements were not Iroh's own, but he couldn't help think that he'd redeemed himself. The history books would still speak of his failure at Ba Sing Se, of his son's death, of the dragons he'd killed. But there would always be a footnote of him as Zuko's companion on his journey and for Iroh that was enough.
Then came the event that would change the history of the Fire Nation forever.
His brother, Ozai, gave up the one thing in the world that Iroh would have killed to have again and at the same time, set the course to his own demise. Though none of them could have known it at the time.
Ozai discarded his son as though he were useless trash, burned and branded, expunged from his homeland. Just a child!
Iroh loves – loved – loves his brother. Somewhere, deep in Ozai's heart, remained the spark of the happy child that Iroh remembered. Maybe it was burnt away by the disregard of their father. Maybe in Ozai was a hint of what Zuko could have been had Iroh not taken the young Prince under his wing.
So many maybes. Too many uncertainties.
Iroh did, however, love Zuko. With every fragment of the old heart he still had left to beat.
Yes, at first, his insistence upon staying at his nephew's side might have been selfish. His son was gone and now, here was another. Not a replacement, not by any means, but someone else Iroh could love. Someone who was deserving of the love.
And in Zuko, Iroh found his own redemption as well.
Honor always was a fickle bastard.
He stayed by his nephew's side, through thick and thin, hoping and praying and begging the spirits would forgive him and not make Zuko suffer for his mistakes. Iroh longed to make the world right, to help his nephew become a man apart of Ozai's madness and Azula's cruelty.
Once, long ago, Iroh had tried to assist Azula as well. But she spurned his aid in such a manner that Iroh did not dare try again. Helping that child would require a spirit much braver, stronger, and more patient than Iroh's own.
At first, Zuko was equally belligerent. Equally unwilling to accept Iroh's wisdom. But Iroh could see the truth behind the arrogance, behind the anger. Behind it all was a sad, broken little boy who only wanted his father to love him. More than firebending talent, more than the throne, more than his honor, what Zuko really wanted was his father's love. Something that should have been given freely.
Something that Iroh had plenty to give.
He watched Zuko grow from a boy to a man, one outside of Ozai's influence, and then he watched as Zuko ascended to kingship of the fire nation. Iroh couldn't be prouder, and he felt the weight of a shameful legacy shift from his shoulders as he stood in the crowd, watching his nephew be crowned.
Zuko's achievements were not Iroh's own, but he couldn't help think that he'd redeemed himself. The history books would still speak of his failure at Ba Sing Se, of his son's death, of the dragons he'd killed. But there would always be a footnote of him as Zuko's companion on his journey and for Iroh that was enough.
a/n: I'm all moved in but I'm still assembling furniture and unpacking, so I'm still writing a bit slower than I'd like, but never fear, I shall prevail. :)
Flash Fiction Friday returns October 19th! And I have fics I'm editing/finishing up I"ll be posting over the course of the month.
Hope you enjoyed!
