The Short Fic Weekly Challenge Thread!
View Single Post
12.25.2012 , 07:20 PM |
Night of the Living Prompt
(a mashup of
As Time Goes By
IA + Raina Temple
Contains a brief non-class-specific spoiler for low-level Hutta
Drakkach saunters over to the largest window in his Kaas City residence. The unceasing gloom is soul-killing for some but he finds it delightful. It's home to him, the lightning, the damp scent of jungle permeating even the most airtight chambers in the Citadel.
, many began to call him- in whispers if they valued life- after he'd struck a devastating blow to the Evocii on Hutta in the early days of his career. The nickname is erroneous. He does have a heart of sorts. He often believes it belongs to the storms, is forever owned by the glimmer of artificial illumination through mist and precipitation.
Raina understands, or pretends to understand. She slides a glass of claret into his hand, pecks him on the cheek, and slips out of the room. It's their nightly ritual: she watches HoloNet dramas, he watches the sky and the lights.
Routines. Domestic comforts. Time is finally taking its toll.
The ghostly image in the window doesn't appear elderly by any stretch. Retirement hasn't stopped him from keeping fit as possible despite aching joints, and in his experience pureblood Rattataki age rather well...with the exception of his sister, of course; Sith corruption hasn't done
any favors in terms of retaining her looks. The man in the reflection grins over the rim of his glass, pale blue eyes crinkling with mirth: Astara might live far longer than him courtesy of whatever sorcery she could cook up but
wouldn't be wearing a mask on
"Why, I never. You're smiling. That's a treat. More apprentices dueling on the taxi pad?" Raina reappears beside him and peers through the window. "I'm sorry for interrupting your you-time but I don't think I can bear another episode of that silly old Corellian love story."
"Which part is unbearable, dear? The setting or the story?" He switches the glass to his left hand, drapes his arm over her shoulders.
ghost in the transparisteel has laugh lines and silvery once-dark hair. He's proud to be responsible for the laugh lines. He might not have been able to give her the love she deserved but he
made her laugh over the decades. "No apprentices tonight. So many aspiring Sith melt in the rain. Didn't you see all those red and purple puddles the last time we went for dinner at the Nexus Room? I tried to warn you about stepping in Sith."
She punches his bicep. "Sith jokes. You, sir, are a complete and utter bastard," her voice is mock-stern but he can tell she's suppressing a giggle. "The drama, well, both of those. A high-ranking Cipher gets down on his knees to propose to a lowly Ensign in front of an acklay cage in the Coronet Zoo? Ridiculous."
Now she's making
laugh. "You never have been and never will be 'lowly'." He sets the glass on the window's deep sill and turns to kiss the crown of her head. "Go fluff the pillows for us, would you?" He'll never grow tired of watching her walk away from him; age certainly hasn't affected the spectacular view.
Her delighted exclamation from their bedroom warms a distant corner of his heart.
"Tarisian roses!" She trots towards him- neither of them can really
anymore- and flings herself into his arms. "They're beautiful. So
"A dozen for every decade since the night a charming Ensign accepted the proposal of a caddish Cipher. You thought I'd forgotten. I'm not senile. Yet." He strokes her hair, admiring the nectar-scented silver. "Although...I don't remember ever keeping an acklay on the ship. I take it you didn't fluff the pillows? I might have seen a Fury-7 Prototype Blaster under them earlier."
"Funny, that," an impish smile, "I saw a bowcaster on the counter a bit ago. Go look. I was rather shocked to see one without a Wookiee attached to it. And you never have been and never will be 'caddish'." She breaks their embrace and drags him towards the kitchen, pauses at the closed door. "You first, just in case."
"In case of what?"
"Wookiees raiding the cupboards?"
Something's afoot, and it's not Wookiees. He pushes at the door tentatively.
"Happy Anniversary, papa!"
"Happy Anniversary, father."
He hasn't seen them in the flesh in over ten years. His girls. His frail, lovely Kalya and gorgeous spitfire Rhexi: one the very image of a younger- and feminine- him, the other the very likeness of a more youthful Raina. They rise from their chairs, lunge and hug him at the same time. Somehow Raina managed to sneak them in without him noticing- and how had she convinced Rhexi to make an appearance at all? No matter. They're alive and
. He hugs them back, his eyes stinging.
Something cracks and shatters inside him. Warmth spills into so many corners that they cease to be corners, empty space filled and made whole in a matter of seconds.
"I've missed you both so much..."
He twists his face towards Raina. She's still in the doorway, and he's gratified to see her swiping at tears of her own.
"I love you," he mouths at her over the heads of his daughters.
"I know," she mouths back, those beautiful laugh lines deepening.
Timewise in regards to
Grey. Red. Black.
this takes place sometime between Coruscant and Voss. It's kind of sappy, I know, but I scribbled it out after opening presents and before family Xmas dinner; I was feeling all warm and fuzzy