Fic dribbles
Apr. 11th, 2003 01:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thebratqueenEvery so often my tired mind gives me random story concepts. They don't necessarily deserve to be full-fledged stories but sometimes they give me an image that sticks with me beyond the first few seconds.
The room was dark. As most rooms were, in such instances, but Wesley felt that really it was improper because what one truly desired in moments like this was light. Flick every switch on. Drag in some lamps. Pass out a few dozen torches. Anything to chase off the shadows.
But no. The room was dark. As though the creature himself demanded it. As though it were his natural habitat - which of course it was - and he forced the world to accomodate it through some kind of heretofore unknown magical ability.
Travers stared at him, the older man's unreadable expression spurred Wesley to talk, activating his rather un-British like desire to fill silences with the sound of his own voice.
"Big fellow," he offered. It was an impossibly simple observation, yet Wesley felt compelled to make it all the same. For all the reading one did, for all the faded drawings and photographs one could find, nothing had even hinted at the sheer bulk of the animal.
Still, he was expected to prove himself. "Insanity is, of course, to be expected. Studies of cross-dimensional travel have indicated culture shocks to varying degrees, often due to the differences in time progression. In fact Hopkin's Theorum itself directly states - "
"It has no mind," Travers said, his voice was as devoid of inflection or emotion as his demeanor. His right hand patted at a coat pocket, as though searching for his pipe. "These things rarely do."
"Of course," Wesley agreed at once. "Base creatures, to be certain. However - "
Travers glanced at him, the quick movement of his eyes cutting Wesley's sentence short and forcing the last word to hang in the air between them.
"He was never like most of them," Wesley finished, finally, assured of the fact that this, at least, was indisputable.
"Still isn't," Travers observed. It seemed a gross understatement for the beast that growled and snapped at them, straining the very strength of the cuffs and chains which confined it even further in the cage that was its home. The hair on Wesley's arms rose, chilled by the sounds that no human-looking throat should have been able to make.
"Do you think you're up to this?" Travers asked.
Wesley clutched his pen and notepad, his preferred methods of recording. "Of course."
"I expect you won't disappoint us," Travers told him.
The vampire tore at his bonds once more, howling with a mixture of anger and frustration. It collapsed to the floor, ridges and bumps melting away to reveal a bloodied, human face.
Wesley looked down at Angelus, thinking to himself that nothing on record could have possibly prepared him for this.
"I'll be fine," he said, not really knowing why he felt so assured of it.
That's the first bit anyway. Not really sure about the others yet.
The room was dark. As most rooms were, in such instances, but Wesley felt that really it was improper because what one truly desired in moments like this was light. Flick every switch on. Drag in some lamps. Pass out a few dozen torches. Anything to chase off the shadows.
But no. The room was dark. As though the creature himself demanded it. As though it were his natural habitat - which of course it was - and he forced the world to accomodate it through some kind of heretofore unknown magical ability.
Travers stared at him, the older man's unreadable expression spurred Wesley to talk, activating his rather un-British like desire to fill silences with the sound of his own voice.
"Big fellow," he offered. It was an impossibly simple observation, yet Wesley felt compelled to make it all the same. For all the reading one did, for all the faded drawings and photographs one could find, nothing had even hinted at the sheer bulk of the animal.
Still, he was expected to prove himself. "Insanity is, of course, to be expected. Studies of cross-dimensional travel have indicated culture shocks to varying degrees, often due to the differences in time progression. In fact Hopkin's Theorum itself directly states - "
"It has no mind," Travers said, his voice was as devoid of inflection or emotion as his demeanor. His right hand patted at a coat pocket, as though searching for his pipe. "These things rarely do."
"Of course," Wesley agreed at once. "Base creatures, to be certain. However - "
Travers glanced at him, the quick movement of his eyes cutting Wesley's sentence short and forcing the last word to hang in the air between them.
"He was never like most of them," Wesley finished, finally, assured of the fact that this, at least, was indisputable.
"Still isn't," Travers observed. It seemed a gross understatement for the beast that growled and snapped at them, straining the very strength of the cuffs and chains which confined it even further in the cage that was its home. The hair on Wesley's arms rose, chilled by the sounds that no human-looking throat should have been able to make.
"Do you think you're up to this?" Travers asked.
Wesley clutched his pen and notepad, his preferred methods of recording. "Of course."
"I expect you won't disappoint us," Travers told him.
The vampire tore at his bonds once more, howling with a mixture of anger and frustration. It collapsed to the floor, ridges and bumps melting away to reveal a bloodied, human face.
Wesley looked down at Angelus, thinking to himself that nothing on record could have possibly prepared him for this.
"I'll be fine," he said, not really knowing why he felt so assured of it.
That's the first bit anyway. Not really sure about the others yet.
