mizface (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mizface) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fan_flashworks2013-01-18 04:46 pm
mizface) wrote in fan_flashworks2013-01-18 04:46 pm
Entry tags:
due South: fic, Emptiness
Title: Emptiness
Fandom: due South
Character: pre-RayK (trust me on this)
Rating: G
Word Count: 299
A/N: immediate prequel to my djinn!Ray fic, A Far Cry from Cocoa Beach. Huge thanks to my betahazelwho, who got me thinking about Ray’s backstory. Also fills the prompt "howling" on dsc6dsnippets.
The first thing he’s aware of is the howling, pulling him from his forced slumber. He's surrounded by inky darkness, bare hints of light not enough to illuminate his scant space. Not that he needs much room; he is amorphous, ephemeral, a wisp of a non-entity.
His bottle rocks and rattles, the stopper nearly shaken loose. A part of him desperately wishes (ha!) it would, or that his bottle would break and his essence would be scattered by the gale outside. He thinks it'd be worth it, the pain of tens of thousands of grains of sand tearing through him, mixing with him with the storm, if it ended this lonely, unhappy existence.
If he had form, that thought would have knocked a bitter laugh from his throat. The inescapable truth is that he will never be free, especially not through anything as simple as an accident. Nothing Nature churned out could liberate him; magic wasn’t that easy to escape.
He forces himself away from the foolish, morbid line of thought and listens, despite the fact that in this form he has no ears with which to hear. The wind sounds different. There's no sand, he realizes, nothing sending high-pitched, piercing pings echoing within the small chamber. Something's pelting the sides of his prison, but it's soft and…wet?
It makes him curious despite himself. He wonders where he is, and who's about to find him. He swirls around, uncertain and impatient, and waits to see what the fates have brought him. Because why else would he have woken? The best, the best he can ever hope for is a Master who is kind (not to him, never to him) and thoughtful in his wants, careful with his wishes.
He lost the ability to hope for more long, long ago.
Fandom: due South
Character: pre-RayK (trust me on this)
Rating: G
Word Count: 299
A/N: immediate prequel to my djinn!Ray fic, A Far Cry from Cocoa Beach. Huge thanks to my beta
hazelwho, who got me thinking about Ray’s backstory. Also fills the prompt "howling" on dsc6dsnippets.The first thing he’s aware of is the howling, pulling him from his forced slumber. He's surrounded by inky darkness, bare hints of light not enough to illuminate his scant space. Not that he needs much room; he is amorphous, ephemeral, a wisp of a non-entity.
His bottle rocks and rattles, the stopper nearly shaken loose. A part of him desperately wishes (ha!) it would, or that his bottle would break and his essence would be scattered by the gale outside. He thinks it'd be worth it, the pain of tens of thousands of grains of sand tearing through him, mixing with him with the storm, if it ended this lonely, unhappy existence.
If he had form, that thought would have knocked a bitter laugh from his throat. The inescapable truth is that he will never be free, especially not through anything as simple as an accident. Nothing Nature churned out could liberate him; magic wasn’t that easy to escape.
He forces himself away from the foolish, morbid line of thought and listens, despite the fact that in this form he has no ears with which to hear. The wind sounds different. There's no sand, he realizes, nothing sending high-pitched, piercing pings echoing within the small chamber. Something's pelting the sides of his prison, but it's soft and…wet?
It makes him curious despite himself. He wonders where he is, and who's about to find him. He swirls around, uncertain and impatient, and waits to see what the fates have brought him. Because why else would he have woken? The best, the best he can ever hope for is a Master who is kind (not to him, never to him) and thoughtful in his wants, careful with his wishes.
He lost the ability to hope for more long, long ago.