Vignette: The Final Fire
Mar. 29th, 2006 09:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
honoratBy Honorat
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Will/Elizabeth
Disclaimer: The rodent made me do it.
Summary: I don’t even know how to describe this. Will and Elizabeth fight in the cave at Isla de Muerta. 700 words, for the “Blossom” challenge at Black Pearl Sails.
Thank you![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
geek_mama_2 for beta-ing this!
* * * * * *
In the heat of the battle, as they fight through drifts of gold, in and out of silver shafts of moonlight, Will can only see Elizabeth. And oh, she is magnificent, with her golden hair flying and her eyes bright, so bright, with not a glimmer of fear, but with the flame of rage, crimson and snapping as the banners of an army in war. He meets her eyes above the clash of steel and gold, and the fire that ignites between them on this cusp of life and death may reduce him to slag and ashes. He notices, in the way one does when life speeds to such a fever pitch that the entire universe seems to creep slower and slower, the grace of her movements, the play of long, slender muscles in her legs, the deadly swing of her arm, the indomitable toss of her head, the way she is almost dancing in this fatal cotillion.
He scarcely sees the men he fights. They cannot touch him. Their movements trail behind his as if they will never catch up. These rotting undead wretches are merely inert obstacles through which he and Elizabeth swirl like liquid gold. They do this for each other. Each stroke, each parry, each shuddering shock of landed blows, each elaborate pattern of footsteps, each supple arch of torso is a hymn to the wonder that is the two of them together. He could stay here forever.
The unity he has always found with the men he has fought is as nothing to the intense oneness he feels fighting beside this girl for whom he would give every day and every breath of his life. Even when he cannot see her, he can feel in his heart each move she makes, as though her heart beats in his chest, as though she is the star around which he must forever revolve. He feels her presence like wind upon his soul, blowing like a gale around him, all fragments of past hurts and resentments, of loss and despair, caught up in the spiral of her storm and dispersed to the four corners of the earth. As the chains fall off his soul, he can almost see himself blossoming into a column of pure light before the ineffable glory of her.
They do not need to speak. Together they grasp the golden staff, like a harp string connecting the two of them in a scintillating blaze of joy. The pirates have no chance. Cursed immortality must give way before this beyond-mortal creature of spirit they have become. The only thing stronger than a curse is a blessing. And Will feels like he embodies the deepest and most agonizing prayer, the highest paean of praise. That death officiates at this ceremony of life is a travesty.
Together, they send the length of that staff through the long-silent hearts of their three adversaries, linking them in a terrible chain of grating bone and flaking gold leaf. Heartless, skeletal, tied together by gold—there is a sense of things falling into place. A rightness in this horror and struggle. With frightening elation Will lights the final fire—the small apocalypse that will end the world for three men. He thrusts the sizzling grenade into the ribcage of the man who brought it to this afflicted place. All things return to their origins. No man can escape the consequences of his actions. Then he and Elizabeth propel their enemies into the shadows where their flesh will return and trap them forever.
This is a terrible thing which they do. But they do it because they must. Life is the stake in this dance of death. They must accept the consequences of this action. And so they stand together, souls raw and unshielded. And they do not look away.
* * * * *
Look in his eyes. The little man, skewered on a golden staff, bearing within his belly the gathering dissolution of his flesh. Listen to his voice as he cries the truth of the universe: “No fair!” And it isn’t. It never has been. Listen, and never forget.
It is not about fairness. It is about love.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Will/Elizabeth
Disclaimer: The rodent made me do it.
Summary: I don’t even know how to describe this. Will and Elizabeth fight in the cave at Isla de Muerta. 700 words, for the “Blossom” challenge at Black Pearl Sails.
Thank you
geek_mama_2 for beta-ing this!* * * * * *
In the heat of the battle, as they fight through drifts of gold, in and out of silver shafts of moonlight, Will can only see Elizabeth. And oh, she is magnificent, with her golden hair flying and her eyes bright, so bright, with not a glimmer of fear, but with the flame of rage, crimson and snapping as the banners of an army in war. He meets her eyes above the clash of steel and gold, and the fire that ignites between them on this cusp of life and death may reduce him to slag and ashes. He notices, in the way one does when life speeds to such a fever pitch that the entire universe seems to creep slower and slower, the grace of her movements, the play of long, slender muscles in her legs, the deadly swing of her arm, the indomitable toss of her head, the way she is almost dancing in this fatal cotillion.
He scarcely sees the men he fights. They cannot touch him. Their movements trail behind his as if they will never catch up. These rotting undead wretches are merely inert obstacles through which he and Elizabeth swirl like liquid gold. They do this for each other. Each stroke, each parry, each shuddering shock of landed blows, each elaborate pattern of footsteps, each supple arch of torso is a hymn to the wonder that is the two of them together. He could stay here forever.
The unity he has always found with the men he has fought is as nothing to the intense oneness he feels fighting beside this girl for whom he would give every day and every breath of his life. Even when he cannot see her, he can feel in his heart each move she makes, as though her heart beats in his chest, as though she is the star around which he must forever revolve. He feels her presence like wind upon his soul, blowing like a gale around him, all fragments of past hurts and resentments, of loss and despair, caught up in the spiral of her storm and dispersed to the four corners of the earth. As the chains fall off his soul, he can almost see himself blossoming into a column of pure light before the ineffable glory of her.
They do not need to speak. Together they grasp the golden staff, like a harp string connecting the two of them in a scintillating blaze of joy. The pirates have no chance. Cursed immortality must give way before this beyond-mortal creature of spirit they have become. The only thing stronger than a curse is a blessing. And Will feels like he embodies the deepest and most agonizing prayer, the highest paean of praise. That death officiates at this ceremony of life is a travesty.
Together, they send the length of that staff through the long-silent hearts of their three adversaries, linking them in a terrible chain of grating bone and flaking gold leaf. Heartless, skeletal, tied together by gold—there is a sense of things falling into place. A rightness in this horror and struggle. With frightening elation Will lights the final fire—the small apocalypse that will end the world for three men. He thrusts the sizzling grenade into the ribcage of the man who brought it to this afflicted place. All things return to their origins. No man can escape the consequences of his actions. Then he and Elizabeth propel their enemies into the shadows where their flesh will return and trap them forever.
This is a terrible thing which they do. But they do it because they must. Life is the stake in this dance of death. They must accept the consequences of this action. And so they stand together, souls raw and unshielded. And they do not look away.
* * * * *
Look in his eyes. The little man, skewered on a golden staff, bearing within his belly the gathering dissolution of his flesh. Listen to his voice as he cries the truth of the universe: “No fair!” And it isn’t. It never has been. Listen, and never forget.
It is not about fairness. It is about love.