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31_days2005-09-21 10:19 am
goldberry.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2005-09-21 10:19 am
[September 21] [Princess Tutu] Mightier Than the Sword
Title: Mightier Than the Sword
Day/Theme: September 21 - "A secret unlit room"
Series: Princess Tutu
Character: Fakir
Rated: G
Spoilers: Takes place after the end of the series.
For:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hang_nga_79 for her birthday tomorrow!
Mightier Than the Sword
Fakir lights a candle with his fingertips, blows magic across the wick until it flares to life at his command. In reality, he's just holding the match a little too close to his nails but in this place, in the dark, everthing is supernatural.
Shadows dance and flicker across the walls in the wavering light. The air is full of dust and the smell of clean parchment, dark ink that sits, waiting. Words linger in his head, full of power, and he understands that this room is seperate, beyond. In here, his blood sings with the ancient strength of his ancestor, the ability to weave miracles into scratches on paper, to create worlds out of discordant syllables.
The pen is mightier than the sword.
He smiles a little, just the slightest bending of a pressed line, and then he takes his seat, disregarding his bandaged hands as he lifts a quill.
Once upon a time, there was a duck...
The End.
Day/Theme: September 21 - "A secret unlit room"
Series: Princess Tutu
Character: Fakir
Rated: G
Spoilers: Takes place after the end of the series.
For:
hang_nga_79 for her birthday tomorrow! Mightier Than the Sword
Fakir lights a candle with his fingertips, blows magic across the wick until it flares to life at his command. In reality, he's just holding the match a little too close to his nails but in this place, in the dark, everthing is supernatural.
Shadows dance and flicker across the walls in the wavering light. The air is full of dust and the smell of clean parchment, dark ink that sits, waiting. Words linger in his head, full of power, and he understands that this room is seperate, beyond. In here, his blood sings with the ancient strength of his ancestor, the ability to weave miracles into scratches on paper, to create worlds out of discordant syllables.
The pen is mightier than the sword.
He smiles a little, just the slightest bending of a pressed line, and then he takes his seat, disregarding his bandaged hands as he lifts a quill.
Once upon a time, there was a duck...
The End.