[a/mc] fever
Author: hermonthis
Title: Fever
Fandom: Storm Hawks
Characters: Aerrow, Master Cyclonis
Genre: romance, drama
Rating: PG-13
Words: 226
Fever
And this girl is Aerrow’s lover. This girl is his best friend. Cyclonis forcibly keeps her face down and her feet forward to avoid looking into the eyes of her captors and their misplaced mercy. They think they are saving her; they are only delaying the inevitable.
And there she is, Piper, standing in the middle of her comrades like a bride at the altar, waiting for Aerrow's victorious return. And there she is, walking behind the groom, trapped in his lengthened shadow. It is cold there, and the silent heiress wonders if her current thoughts could be labeled as shame. Because it is one thing to blindly follow the man who saved Atmos, but it is another thing to lie down with him willingly.
Cyclonis sees her dead Talons swaying like restless wraiths behind the Storm Hawks, an imaginary sea of impassive faces. A throbbing hum of anger reverberates inside her skull, and if she blinks she may see a Cyclonian spy snuggled between a pair of uniformed shoulders. They were discovered too.
She almost feels sorry for them, her unemotional hallucinations. It is only their heads and shoulders she perceives through her restricted vision, and just enough for her to handle. As if her failure served as the guillotine for them all. It is the fall of the Empire; therefore, the fault is hers.
Title: Fever
Fandom: Storm Hawks
Characters: Aerrow, Master Cyclonis
Genre: romance, drama
Rating: PG-13
Words: 226
Fever
And this girl is Aerrow’s lover. This girl is his best friend. Cyclonis forcibly keeps her face down and her feet forward to avoid looking into the eyes of her captors and their misplaced mercy. They think they are saving her; they are only delaying the inevitable.
And there she is, Piper, standing in the middle of her comrades like a bride at the altar, waiting for Aerrow's victorious return. And there she is, walking behind the groom, trapped in his lengthened shadow. It is cold there, and the silent heiress wonders if her current thoughts could be labeled as shame. Because it is one thing to blindly follow the man who saved Atmos, but it is another thing to lie down with him willingly.
Cyclonis sees her dead Talons swaying like restless wraiths behind the Storm Hawks, an imaginary sea of impassive faces. A throbbing hum of anger reverberates inside her skull, and if she blinks she may see a Cyclonian spy snuggled between a pair of uniformed shoulders. They were discovered too.
She almost feels sorry for them, her unemotional hallucinations. It is only their heads and shoulders she perceives through her restricted vision, and just enough for her to handle. As if her failure served as the guillotine for them all. It is the fall of the Empire; therefore, the fault is hers.