The Last Ones
Title: The Last Ones
Fandom: Thundercats
Characters: Wilykit, Panthro
Prompt: 10. Last
Word Count: 267
Rating: PG
Summary: In which Wilykit is unusually serious.
Author's Notes: I own nothing.
Wilykit perched on the side of the Thundertank, watching Panthro with a thoughtful expression as he fiddled with something that two hours ago he had claimed was absolutely perfect. He was prone to doing those kinds of things.
“Do you really think we’re the last ones?” she finally asked.
Panthro paused in making the adjustments and looked up, studying the girl and turning her words over in his head, examining them from every angle before he answered. “Can’t really say.”
“That’s not what you really think,” Wilykit accused, pouting. “You’re just saying that to make me go away or something.”
“Maybe,” Panthro acknowledged. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why are you asking me if I think we’re the last of our kind?”
Wilykit shrugged. “Just thinking about some stuff, I guess. We don’t really have a… a future. There won’t be anyone to carry on our legacy, will there? I mean, yeah, Cheetara could have kids, and maybe me…” she glanced down at the flat expanse of her chest, “and maybe they’d have kids, but then what?”
Panthro continued to study Wilykit, pondering her words as his discomfort rose. “Aren’t you a little young to be thinking about these kinds of things?” he asked, perhaps a little desperately. This was not a conversation he really wanted to have with the girl.
Wilykit sighed and slid off her perch, walking away with that worrying, thoughtful expression still on her face.
Fandom: Thundercats
Characters: Wilykit, Panthro
Prompt: 10. Last
Word Count: 267
Rating: PG
Summary: In which Wilykit is unusually serious.
Author's Notes: I own nothing.
Wilykit perched on the side of the Thundertank, watching Panthro with a thoughtful expression as he fiddled with something that two hours ago he had claimed was absolutely perfect. He was prone to doing those kinds of things.
“Do you really think we’re the last ones?” she finally asked.
Panthro paused in making the adjustments and looked up, studying the girl and turning her words over in his head, examining them from every angle before he answered. “Can’t really say.”
“That’s not what you really think,” Wilykit accused, pouting. “You’re just saying that to make me go away or something.”
“Maybe,” Panthro acknowledged. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why are you asking me if I think we’re the last of our kind?”
Wilykit shrugged. “Just thinking about some stuff, I guess. We don’t really have a… a future. There won’t be anyone to carry on our legacy, will there? I mean, yeah, Cheetara could have kids, and maybe me…” she glanced down at the flat expanse of her chest, “and maybe they’d have kids, but then what?”
Panthro continued to study Wilykit, pondering her words as his discomfort rose. “Aren’t you a little young to be thinking about these kinds of things?” he asked, perhaps a little desperately. This was not a conversation he really wanted to have with the girl.
Wilykit sighed and slid off her perch, walking away with that worrying, thoughtful expression still on her face.