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~ Part Three ~
~ Part Two ~"They should have killed me," he told her one evening. "It is shameful to leave a man as an invalid on the battlefield ( Read more... ) -
~ Part Two ~
~ Part One ~He awoke the following day to hushed tones in the next room. It took a great deal more concentration than he was used to, but he could just make out her voice ( Read more... ) -
~ Part One ~
No one remembers how or when he arrived, not even the man himself. To him, the recent years have been naught but a blur in his mind. He's lost track of how many listless days he's wandered, how many backwater moons (if they could even be called that) he'd set foot on, how many men he'd killed out of anger or necessity or boredom ( Read more... ) -
Theatrical Muse 162
I would like to go home. Not home to the cold steel bosom of the Alliance, but home, even though I'm quite sure there's precious little left of it anymore. I don't know what I'd do there, for surely there is no way for a man with my past to simply start over again. But I should like to see it again, to remember what it was like ( Read more... ) -
155: The Operative vs. Malcolm Reynolds
When it began, he had no idea about the involvement of Captain Reynolds, nor did he know when or where River would react to the subliminal trigger he'd distributed across the cortex. It wasn't until he reviewed the security vid of the incident at the Maidenhead that he was first introduced to the man who would become his greatest adversary. ( Read more... ) -
Dance
He moves with a grace cultivated throughout his lifetime. A pirouette here, a lunge there, his arms and legs make beautiful arcs to be envied by the highest trained prima ballerinas. He was, by far, the most gifted at this. It made him stand out, made him unique. It's why they chose him ( Read more... ) -
151: The moral of the story is ...
"You may proceed with your report ( Read more... ) -
1.25.1: Write a ficlet on the topic of sin.
"Do you know what your sin is ( Read more... ) -
147: Write about a memory of summer.
If he closes his eyes, he can hear the soft breeze of home. The singing metal of windchimes. The warmth of sun, sweat beading on his forehead. The soft hum of his mother's lullaby, and the gentle caress of her kisses. The chirp of crickets at dawn and sunset. The songs of his father, sitting on the porch in the warm night air. The screams of ( Read more... ) -
146: Hidden.
He hides behind custom, formality, dignity, grace. Intellect and purpose become his veils, surrounding him in shadow, hiding those which might prove obstructive to his goal: emotion, sympathy, empathy. These have been locked away, even from himself. They serve no purpose ( Read more... )