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31_days2012-03-12 09:49 am
metallikirk.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2012-03-12 09:49 am
March 12th [The Chronicles of Riddick] Wherever The Stars Take Us
Title: Wherever The Stars Take Us
Day/Theme: March 12th; dreadfully fond of beheading
Series: The Chronicles of Riddick
Character/Pairing: Riddick, Vaako
Rating: PG-13
Vaako strode through the corridors of the Basilica, brows pulled low over simmering, angry eyes as he did so. Every line of his body was thrumming with tension, anger rolling from him in waves and threatening to drown anyone who stepped too close to him. He growled obscenities at anyone who tried, coupling his words with an increasingly ferocious scowl, that scared off even the most hardy of Necromongers from stepping into his path and stopping him.
His stride was unimpeded by distractions, as he stalked past Necromongers who were under his rule and stepped over piles of the battle-fallen, white faces mingled amongst much darker ones. Vaako had to feel some perverse, dark pleasure over the fact that Necromongers were few and far between amongst the unfortunate fallen. The losses were not theirs to truly own, despite losing a few good soldiers to their enemy.
Vaako still remembered how the inhabitants of Gogogarrin Prime had fought back, storming the Necromonger flagship with a whole fleet and battalion of their own, refusing to lie down and die like most of the Necromonger conquests. They’d refused conversion, refused to die, refused to be scared as they should have been. They’d fought instead, boarding the Basilica and ranging through the corridors, attempting to pick off those who’d dared give them such an ultimatum. Vaako had not been pleased; none of them had been, in fact, yet it was Vaako and Riddick who’d led the way against the Gogogarrin invaders, cutting them down while they tried to attack.
Riddick had been like a raging bull, unleashing his untamed fury that seemed peculiar only to the Furyans, of which he was the last and the most filled with rage. Vaako had never seen anything like it, not even when Zhylaw was Lord Marshall and that covered a lot of ground. Vaako himself had been the perpetrator of more than a few depraved deeds in his lifetime, all in the name of the Necromonger faith and at the word of his Lord Marshall. He was nothing if not a good soldier, to Zhylaw and to Riddick both.
Riddick, it seemed, had become particularly fond of beheading of late. Vaako had lost count of how many heads had thudded to the floor of the Basilica and rolled, to be kicked aside like they were nothing. Vaako had put aside his misgivings over Riddick’s new pastime in the heat of battle, yet now, he was wondering where this new obsession had come from, and whether it was the beginnings of madness that was fuelling it. He knew, however, that if he questioned Riddick, his head would likely join those of the enemy, too. Rather than lose that, he decided to keep his silence and wait for the beheadings to move onto some other form of torture and revenge. That too, like everything else, would pass; Vaako was confident of that much.
The door to the throne room swung open when Vaako’s large fist pounded angrily into it, slamming against the wall before the forbidding Necromonger stormed in, crackling angry energy seeming to proceed him as he did so. His dark eyes scanned the room, lines of his face pulled taut with simmering rage as he did so, and found Riddick sitting calmly upon his throne as if nothing much had happened at all. All around him, scattered upon the floor like discarded dolls, were strewn several beheaded bodies, the heads discarded in a large, almost neat pile against the far wall. Again, the threat of madness looming flittered through Vaako’s mind, yet still he said nothing about it.
Instead, he said - “It’s over.”
“Until next time,” Riddick replied, before falling silent, his shining eyes unreadable to Vaako.
That disconcerted Vaako, a little, that he couldn’t get a reading of Riddick’s mood nor current state of mind; after all, as Riddick’s second in command, he prided himself on perhaps knowing the Furyan better than anyone else and even he could concede to the fact that he barely knew Riddick at all. At least, usually, he could read Riddick better than he currently could.
“Where to, now?” Vaako asked, changing the subject slightly, while deciding to deal with the current situation at a later date.
“After we clear the Basilica of its new load? I don’t know,” Riddick replied, with an easy, graceful shrug and an almost smile. “Wherever the stars take us, I suppose.”
“Indeed,” Vaako replied, knowing this was as good an answer as any he was ever likely to receive.
Day/Theme: March 12th; dreadfully fond of beheading
Series: The Chronicles of Riddick
Character/Pairing: Riddick, Vaako
Rating: PG-13
Vaako strode through the corridors of the Basilica, brows pulled low over simmering, angry eyes as he did so. Every line of his body was thrumming with tension, anger rolling from him in waves and threatening to drown anyone who stepped too close to him. He growled obscenities at anyone who tried, coupling his words with an increasingly ferocious scowl, that scared off even the most hardy of Necromongers from stepping into his path and stopping him.
His stride was unimpeded by distractions, as he stalked past Necromongers who were under his rule and stepped over piles of the battle-fallen, white faces mingled amongst much darker ones. Vaako had to feel some perverse, dark pleasure over the fact that Necromongers were few and far between amongst the unfortunate fallen. The losses were not theirs to truly own, despite losing a few good soldiers to their enemy.
Vaako still remembered how the inhabitants of Gogogarrin Prime had fought back, storming the Necromonger flagship with a whole fleet and battalion of their own, refusing to lie down and die like most of the Necromonger conquests. They’d refused conversion, refused to die, refused to be scared as they should have been. They’d fought instead, boarding the Basilica and ranging through the corridors, attempting to pick off those who’d dared give them such an ultimatum. Vaako had not been pleased; none of them had been, in fact, yet it was Vaako and Riddick who’d led the way against the Gogogarrin invaders, cutting them down while they tried to attack.
Riddick had been like a raging bull, unleashing his untamed fury that seemed peculiar only to the Furyans, of which he was the last and the most filled with rage. Vaako had never seen anything like it, not even when Zhylaw was Lord Marshall and that covered a lot of ground. Vaako himself had been the perpetrator of more than a few depraved deeds in his lifetime, all in the name of the Necromonger faith and at the word of his Lord Marshall. He was nothing if not a good soldier, to Zhylaw and to Riddick both.
Riddick, it seemed, had become particularly fond of beheading of late. Vaako had lost count of how many heads had thudded to the floor of the Basilica and rolled, to be kicked aside like they were nothing. Vaako had put aside his misgivings over Riddick’s new pastime in the heat of battle, yet now, he was wondering where this new obsession had come from, and whether it was the beginnings of madness that was fuelling it. He knew, however, that if he questioned Riddick, his head would likely join those of the enemy, too. Rather than lose that, he decided to keep his silence and wait for the beheadings to move onto some other form of torture and revenge. That too, like everything else, would pass; Vaako was confident of that much.
The door to the throne room swung open when Vaako’s large fist pounded angrily into it, slamming against the wall before the forbidding Necromonger stormed in, crackling angry energy seeming to proceed him as he did so. His dark eyes scanned the room, lines of his face pulled taut with simmering rage as he did so, and found Riddick sitting calmly upon his throne as if nothing much had happened at all. All around him, scattered upon the floor like discarded dolls, were strewn several beheaded bodies, the heads discarded in a large, almost neat pile against the far wall. Again, the threat of madness looming flittered through Vaako’s mind, yet still he said nothing about it.
Instead, he said - “It’s over.”
“Until next time,” Riddick replied, before falling silent, his shining eyes unreadable to Vaako.
That disconcerted Vaako, a little, that he couldn’t get a reading of Riddick’s mood nor current state of mind; after all, as Riddick’s second in command, he prided himself on perhaps knowing the Furyan better than anyone else and even he could concede to the fact that he barely knew Riddick at all. At least, usually, he could read Riddick better than he currently could.
“Where to, now?” Vaako asked, changing the subject slightly, while deciding to deal with the current situation at a later date.
“After we clear the Basilica of its new load? I don’t know,” Riddick replied, with an easy, graceful shrug and an almost smile. “Wherever the stars take us, I suppose.”
“Indeed,” Vaako replied, knowing this was as good an answer as any he was ever likely to receive.