Holy god a non anime fandom thingy
Title: Comfort
Rating: Pg-13
Fandom: Transformers 2007/2009 Movieverse
Warnings: Maybe death, possibly post Revenge of the Fallen (Even though it's not even out yet), just plain oddness
Spoilers: N/A
Characters: Samuel Witwicky, unknown Autobot
This is how it all shall end,
in quiet tear filled halls.
Shifting restlessly until you see
the eyes of the dying man across the way.
A simple smile edged in pain,
and a goodbye both loud and soft
as the soldier fades away.
It tended to look like the ending of a very energetic party with too much indulgence and few inhibitions on the parts of those involved, as bodies sprawled almost carelessly over one another. Some, forming living knots of limbs and warmth as they curled and slumped into touching and sprawled out positions. These ones the seemingly more blatant of the group while the more reserved, or plain unconscious ones, set propped against the oddly pristine surface of the wall with barely a brush of shoulder against shoulder, or back against back as they remained motionless and almost serene.
A scene that would have brought many to chance upon it scurrying for a recording device for future blackmail and embarrassment fodder, if not for the thrum of wrongness about the resting figures and the white, too white cloth bound around limbs and peeking from beneath clothing. The lack of normal movement replaced by the jerky, stifled movements of those in pain but too stubborn to show it painting the scene into a much more subdue and almost disheartening scene.
“It’s comforting.”
The sound loud in its suddenness within that far too quietly hallway was enough to break the calm denial of it all; sound rushing forward, past the wall that had been built as the screams and whimpers of those housed in the room beyond the doors with their obscenely cheerful looking red crosses painted on them. Even as the child with eyes too old for everything, looks up with a smile both sad and happy. The same white cloth peeking from under every opening of cloth and wrapped around a hand that slowly bleeds to a red far sober then that of the crosses upon the doors.
“It’s just human nature. Comfort from one another.”
Then the child seems to slip away, even as the frail body only curls a bit closer to the wall and the odd, warm metal of something alarmingly not normal for this hallway. Or perhaps it is this large creature of gears and wires that is the most mundane thing as eyes dull and the sound of pain seems to ebb away again as the body finally stops shifting.
“Sam?”
No one ever tells how peaceful it can be when surrounded by death and pain, when others are willing to share it with you. It makes the burden lighten and the guilt of leaving it all fade.
Rating: Pg-13
Fandom: Transformers 2007/2009 Movieverse
Warnings: Maybe death, possibly post Revenge of the Fallen (Even though it's not even out yet), just plain oddness
Spoilers: N/A
Characters: Samuel Witwicky, unknown Autobot
This is how it all shall end,
in quiet tear filled halls.
Shifting restlessly until you see
the eyes of the dying man across the way.
A simple smile edged in pain,
and a goodbye both loud and soft
as the soldier fades away.
It tended to look like the ending of a very energetic party with too much indulgence and few inhibitions on the parts of those involved, as bodies sprawled almost carelessly over one another. Some, forming living knots of limbs and warmth as they curled and slumped into touching and sprawled out positions. These ones the seemingly more blatant of the group while the more reserved, or plain unconscious ones, set propped against the oddly pristine surface of the wall with barely a brush of shoulder against shoulder, or back against back as they remained motionless and almost serene.
A scene that would have brought many to chance upon it scurrying for a recording device for future blackmail and embarrassment fodder, if not for the thrum of wrongness about the resting figures and the white, too white cloth bound around limbs and peeking from beneath clothing. The lack of normal movement replaced by the jerky, stifled movements of those in pain but too stubborn to show it painting the scene into a much more subdue and almost disheartening scene.
“It’s comforting.”
The sound loud in its suddenness within that far too quietly hallway was enough to break the calm denial of it all; sound rushing forward, past the wall that had been built as the screams and whimpers of those housed in the room beyond the doors with their obscenely cheerful looking red crosses painted on them. Even as the child with eyes too old for everything, looks up with a smile both sad and happy. The same white cloth peeking from under every opening of cloth and wrapped around a hand that slowly bleeds to a red far sober then that of the crosses upon the doors.
“It’s just human nature. Comfort from one another.”
Then the child seems to slip away, even as the frail body only curls a bit closer to the wall and the odd, warm metal of something alarmingly not normal for this hallway. Or perhaps it is this large creature of gears and wires that is the most mundane thing as eyes dull and the sound of pain seems to ebb away again as the body finally stops shifting.
“Sam?”
No one ever tells how peaceful it can be when surrounded by death and pain, when others are willing to share it with you. It makes the burden lighten and the guilt of leaving it all fade.