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31_days2005-11-27 11:17 pm
mythicbeast.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2005-11-27 11:17 pm
[November 27] [Legend of Mana] Moment Too Late
Title: Moment Too Late
Day/Theme: November 27: And the feeble brain scrambles desperately to translate
Series: Legend of Mana
Character/Pairing: Elazul, Heroine. (Spoilers for the end of the Jumi arc, and some liberties with canon, of course.)
Rating: PG
Summary: This does not happen to heroes.
A/N: Done in the throes of my 'holy crap I finished NaNoWriMo early' dance; a drabble.
He never thought he would be the last left standing, but he is, and for a long, frozen moment, all he can do is stare at her body -- her corpse -- and wonder, desperately, when it had ever come to this.
The last Jumi in the world, something tiny and bitter in him says, and he wonders if the darkness of the world has seeped through the crack in his core and is talking to him. Or if he's starting to go mad.
You should be proud.
He is anything but.
He has bent his head, willing tears that refuse to come, and he is alone; so wrapped up in his own sorrow that he does not see the crystal tracing down his (late) friend's stone face, eternally frozen in mid-sob (she wouldn't have been proud of that, he thinks, miserably; she always complained about her face blotching up when she cried).
He doesn't look up until he hears the shatter of crystal on marble, and the sudden excited chatter of voices rising in the air as life returns to a city that has been empty for a thousand years.
Day/Theme: November 27: And the feeble brain scrambles desperately to translate
Series: Legend of Mana
Character/Pairing: Elazul, Heroine. (Spoilers for the end of the Jumi arc, and some liberties with canon, of course.)
Rating: PG
Summary: This does not happen to heroes.
A/N: Done in the throes of my 'holy crap I finished NaNoWriMo early' dance; a drabble.
He never thought he would be the last left standing, but he is, and for a long, frozen moment, all he can do is stare at her body -- her corpse -- and wonder, desperately, when it had ever come to this.
The last Jumi in the world, something tiny and bitter in him says, and he wonders if the darkness of the world has seeped through the crack in his core and is talking to him. Or if he's starting to go mad.
You should be proud.
He is anything but.
He has bent his head, willing tears that refuse to come, and he is alone; so wrapped up in his own sorrow that he does not see the crystal tracing down his (late) friend's stone face, eternally frozen in mid-sob (she wouldn't have been proud of that, he thinks, miserably; she always complained about her face blotching up when she cried).
He doesn't look up until he hears the shatter of crystal on marble, and the sudden excited chatter of voices rising in the air as life returns to a city that has been empty for a thousand years.