(Damn, if it isn't taken by the time I jump in Fill-A-Thon I might grab this because I know this is the type of prompt that lives in my brain. Don't know if I want to hug you or shake my fist at you.)
Re: Atlantis - Helga (1/3)teaandhoneyAugust 10 2012, 15:14:06 UTC
There is never really a moment of expecting to die. That’s just not how she thinks.
Even lying on her back after just being thrown from a hot air balloon, Helga calmly lines up an impossible shot with a flare gun that will most likely start a volcano.
But that isn’t what she’s thinking about. She’s not thinking about death - well that’s not exactly true. She’s not thinking about the possible death of everyone around her as well as herself, but she is thinking about one person’s death. The one person she had thought she could depend on in this place. Maybe not trust, but count on in that sort of agreement of mercenaries way they had worked out through years of companionship.
She collects all of those thoughts in her mind - all of those memories of companionship (a word that feels sour and cold now. But that chill might just be the blood she can distantly feel pooling in her lungs). Of the way she used to feel so proud of the trust he placed, making her his second in command - a woman. The way the hard lines of Rourke's face would
( ... )
Re: Atlantis - Helga (2/3)teaandhoneyAugust 10 2012, 15:22:21 UTC
Consciousness comes back to her slowly. Dreams evaporating with her wakefulness - memories of times past technically.
First of family back in Frankfurt (joyfully tussling with her five younger brothers while utterly ignoring her mother's pleas for her to go off to her dance lesson) then the military training camps. The similarity, and therefore comfort, the two always held for her forming a warm cocoon in her mind that she finds herself reluctant to leave even as her eyes open and she starts to forget. The way hard expectations would morph into jostling brotherly comradary once she met them (and oh, Helga always would).
Of simplicity and happiness. Those are times she has made herself now classify as dreams. It's less painful that way.
There is simplicity to her life now too though. Helga pushes her body up out of her needlessly lavish bed, throws back the curtains, and takes a moment to just stand there utterly nude beside the thing (and it is a thing in her mind)and study it before she dresses for the day
( ... )
Re: Atlantis - Helga (3/3)teaandhoneyAugust 10 2012, 15:32:12 UTC
True second chances, she has found, are rare and precious things. There are usually rules attached - stipulations that utterly negate any actual altruism.
And there was no reason for Whitmore to re-hire her as his driver and bodyguard - and really every reason for him to turn her away or, more realistically in her line of work, attempt to take her out, through quietly hired privet contactors, for her betrayal
( ... )
Re: Atlantis - Helga (3/3)teaandhoneyAugust 15 2012, 02:13:12 UTC
It makes me oddly happy to think of her staring at Whitmore's antics with a raised eyebrow while internaly smiling. I had a soft spot for bad ass Helga in the movie but I really love the idea of content Helga too.
*sigh* Glad you enjoyed it, afterandalasia. Glad ya did.
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(Damn, if it isn't taken by the time I jump in Fill-A-Thon I might grab this because I know this is the type of prompt that lives in my brain. Don't know if I want to hug you or shake my fist at you.)
Reply
Even lying on her back after just being thrown from a hot air balloon, Helga calmly lines up an impossible shot with a flare gun that will most likely start a volcano.
But that isn’t what she’s thinking about. She’s not thinking about death - well that’s not exactly true. She’s not thinking about the possible death of everyone around her as well as herself, but she is thinking about one person’s death. The one person she had thought she could depend on in this place. Maybe not trust, but count on in that sort of agreement of mercenaries way they had worked out through years of companionship.
She collects all of those thoughts in her mind - all of those memories of companionship (a word that feels sour and cold now. But that chill might just be the blood she can distantly feel pooling in her lungs). Of the way she used to feel so proud of the trust he placed, making her his second in command - a woman. The way the hard lines of Rourke's face would ( ... )
Reply
First of family back in Frankfurt (joyfully tussling with her five younger brothers while utterly ignoring her mother's pleas for her to go off to her dance lesson) then the military training camps. The similarity, and therefore comfort, the two always held for her forming a warm cocoon in her mind that she finds herself reluctant to leave even as her eyes open and she starts to forget. The way hard expectations would morph into jostling brotherly comradary once she met them (and oh, Helga always would).
Of simplicity and happiness. Those are times she has made herself now classify as dreams. It's less painful that way.
There is simplicity to her life now too though. Helga pushes her body up out of her needlessly lavish bed, throws back the curtains, and takes a moment to just stand there utterly nude beside the thing (and it is a thing in her mind)and study it before she dresses for the day ( ... )
Reply
True second chances, she has found, are rare and precious things. There are usually rules attached - stipulations that utterly negate any actual altruism.
And there was no reason for Whitmore to re-hire her as his driver and bodyguard - and really every reason for him to turn her away or, more realistically in her line of work, attempt to take her out, through quietly hired privet contactors, for her betrayal ( ... )
Reply
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*sigh* Glad you enjoyed it, afterandalasia. Glad ya did.
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