q_m_n
in
mtx_deg_sep
Ficlet
Me wanting to get back with Falcon and Kite before I lose them...
Falcon stood alone in the rain over the small stone, his wings loose and waterlogged. The grave was small and plain, and it had somehow felt horribly wrong burying the kestral under the damp soil. Her wings would be getting dirty.
The red kite swooped from the fence nearby and gripped the bird program's trench at the shoulder, flapping to rebalance. What could you have done? he said, utilising the speech the King of Exiles had developed for him. Hurry up, he added. I'm getting wet...
"Whatever I did, it wasn't enough."
It was chance, dammit, she knew the risk she was taking!
Falcon whipped his head around, droplets flying from his hair. "Still!"
Still what? Still it's not fair?
Falcon turned back to the grave.
He knew it wasn't fair, and he knew the rest of this source-damned simulation wasn't fair either. He knew Kite knew this, and he knew his friend would be hurting as they talked about Tinnun and the experiment. He knew the Merovingian would soon be alerted to the fact that he was not at his post. He knew the small winged child he had saved watched him from the other side of the fence.
He knew all this, and still couldn't help himself.
His head came back with a toss, and he shrieked his frustration at the pressing clouds. Rain plastered his hair down and ran into his eyes. Kite took flight and wheeled heavily, adding his cries. Together, the birds sorrowed for their friend.
The echoes flew around the walls of the château gardens and faded away as he panted, slicking his hair back. Kite flew down and landed on Falcon's out-stretched arm. I miss her as much as you do, Falcon. But she's gone.
"I know."
The rain hissed around them.
What are you going to do?
"I don't know..." There was a pause. The winged child Siskin crept away damply.
Falcon. Falcon looked into the sharp yellow eyes of his friend's soggy head. Can we go inside now?
[I need to work out this backstory again...]
Falcon stood alone in the rain over the small stone, his wings loose and waterlogged. The grave was small and plain, and it had somehow felt horribly wrong burying the kestral under the damp soil. Her wings would be getting dirty.
The red kite swooped from the fence nearby and gripped the bird program's trench at the shoulder, flapping to rebalance. What could you have done? he said, utilising the speech the King of Exiles had developed for him. Hurry up, he added. I'm getting wet...
"Whatever I did, it wasn't enough."
It was chance, dammit, she knew the risk she was taking!
Falcon whipped his head around, droplets flying from his hair. "Still!"
Still what? Still it's not fair?
Falcon turned back to the grave.
He knew it wasn't fair, and he knew the rest of this source-damned simulation wasn't fair either. He knew Kite knew this, and he knew his friend would be hurting as they talked about Tinnun and the experiment. He knew the Merovingian would soon be alerted to the fact that he was not at his post. He knew the small winged child he had saved watched him from the other side of the fence.
He knew all this, and still couldn't help himself.
His head came back with a toss, and he shrieked his frustration at the pressing clouds. Rain plastered his hair down and ran into his eyes. Kite took flight and wheeled heavily, adding his cries. Together, the birds sorrowed for their friend.
The echoes flew around the walls of the château gardens and faded away as he panted, slicking his hair back. Kite flew down and landed on Falcon's out-stretched arm. I miss her as much as you do, Falcon. But she's gone.
"I know."
The rain hissed around them.
What are you going to do?
"I don't know..." There was a pause. The winged child Siskin crept away damply.
Falcon. Falcon looked into the sharp yellow eyes of his friend's soggy head. Can we go inside now?
[I need to work out this backstory again...]