Fic: Sister Song
Title: Sister Song
Fandom: Stargate (general)
Pairing: none
Warnings: um…none? Sentient alien cities?
Notes: I’ve seen maybe…three seasons of SGA. And a few random episodes after that. So if anything I say in here is complete bullshit, well. You know why.
I don’t know where this came from. One moment I’m looking for inspiration and fretting about plotlines and school and meds, and the next…this. I was lurking on sg1_five_things and found the prompt and it reached out and grabbed me.
The prompt is at the end of the summary.
Summary: She sings the secret song of her heart, her sister song. And she hopes, one day, the song will sing back to her. Five things about Atlantis the SGC will never know.
Always she calls to her sisters - and they are everywhere, spread far and wide across the universe. The Creators made so many of them, and spread them so far apart.
Countless have fallen to age and battle and natural disasters, but still she calls to them, numerous as the stars, and sometimes, if they are able, they answer back. Always, this song of her heart, a secret song, and she always rejoices when her sisters sing back.
She has the secrets they need - she always has. She has the facilities to build ZPMs, but not the materials. There are places in her, locked away, where she houses vessels that can reach into the depths of the see - not puddle jumpers, as the humans have named her flying vessels - but crafts meant for research and exploration deep beneath the sea. She has the means, if not the materials, to build others like herself. Not sisters, but children. Faster space travel, better shields, stronger ships - all these she can give them, if they dig deep enough. If they dig into her depths.
She feels each injury starkly, vividly, and she does not - she cannot - forget. She needs her occupants, these humans, to heal her. To activate her repair systems, to rebuild her towers and her pathways, to seal the holes in her body, to make her whole again. Each wound they do not heal - each damaged section they seal away or sacrifice - weighs down on her. She cannot reach out to them because she hurts, because she is consumed with centuries of pain. She is like some of her lost sisters, so heavily oppressed by the hurts of time that she cannot begin to repair them.
She has the means to provide for Destiny. She can produce the materials her sister needs, she can lend her the power for a wormhole connection, she can send - through that open wormhole - all the data she has collected on these humans and their cultures. She can help her; not bring her near, no, not divert her from the mission that they both believe in, but help her. Ease the burden.
She loves them. She loves these fragile tiny lives, so similar to her creators and yet so different. Their lives are tiny splashes of color against an endless sky, but they are all important to her. She was made to be a vessel, a nurturer and defender of life, and she loves. She loves so dearly.
Her injuries make it hard for her to communicate with them; her pain is deep and raw, and it bears down on her processes so that she cannot be all that she is. But even though they sometimes hurt her, she loves that they do their best. She cannot help but love.
Fandom: Stargate (general)
Pairing: none
Warnings: um…none? Sentient alien cities?
Notes: I’ve seen maybe…three seasons of SGA. And a few random episodes after that. So if anything I say in here is complete bullshit, well. You know why.
I don’t know where this came from. One moment I’m looking for inspiration and fretting about plotlines and school and meds, and the next…this. I was lurking on sg1_five_things and found the prompt and it reached out and grabbed me.
The prompt is at the end of the summary.
Summary: She sings the secret song of her heart, her sister song. And she hopes, one day, the song will sing back to her. Five things about Atlantis the SGC will never know.
Always she calls to her sisters - and they are everywhere, spread far and wide across the universe. The Creators made so many of them, and spread them so far apart.
Countless have fallen to age and battle and natural disasters, but still she calls to them, numerous as the stars, and sometimes, if they are able, they answer back. Always, this song of her heart, a secret song, and she always rejoices when her sisters sing back.
She has the secrets they need - she always has. She has the facilities to build ZPMs, but not the materials. There are places in her, locked away, where she houses vessels that can reach into the depths of the see - not puddle jumpers, as the humans have named her flying vessels - but crafts meant for research and exploration deep beneath the sea. She has the means, if not the materials, to build others like herself. Not sisters, but children. Faster space travel, better shields, stronger ships - all these she can give them, if they dig deep enough. If they dig into her depths.
She feels each injury starkly, vividly, and she does not - she cannot - forget. She needs her occupants, these humans, to heal her. To activate her repair systems, to rebuild her towers and her pathways, to seal the holes in her body, to make her whole again. Each wound they do not heal - each damaged section they seal away or sacrifice - weighs down on her. She cannot reach out to them because she hurts, because she is consumed with centuries of pain. She is like some of her lost sisters, so heavily oppressed by the hurts of time that she cannot begin to repair them.
She has the means to provide for Destiny. She can produce the materials her sister needs, she can lend her the power for a wormhole connection, she can send - through that open wormhole - all the data she has collected on these humans and their cultures. She can help her; not bring her near, no, not divert her from the mission that they both believe in, but help her. Ease the burden.
She loves them. She loves these fragile tiny lives, so similar to her creators and yet so different. Their lives are tiny splashes of color against an endless sky, but they are all important to her. She was made to be a vessel, a nurturer and defender of life, and she loves. She loves so dearly.
Her injuries make it hard for her to communicate with them; her pain is deep and raw, and it bears down on her processes so that she cannot be all that she is. But even though they sometimes hurt her, she loves that they do their best. She cannot help but love.