The Writing Game: Still, Life After
Feb. 29th, 2012 03:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
momebieTITLE: Still, Life After
AUTHOR:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
momebie
RATING: PG
WORD COUNT: 691
FEEDBACK: On || FEEDBACK TYPE: Tactful
WARNING: Character injury.
SUMMARY: Aed doesn't depend on others and he doesn't know why they depend on him.
PROMPTS: "write a still-life"
A/N: This was really hard to pull out once I settled on the scenario, which is unusual for me. I don't know if that works for or against it. Also, in case Snow In Florida is confusing: it's the future! Weather patterns be damned!
The long abandoned NASA launch site is perched on the edge of the Florida marsh, rising up from the grey scenery and nailing the past into place. The pad itself has caved in, but the complex mass of metal arms, towers, and cables is still standing. It challenges the weather. It challenges the future. It’s a nostalgic relic that challenges the very world that Aed is fighting for. Rust leaks from riveted eyes, making it look tired and wounded. He can relate.
Every time two men stand toe-to-toe there should be seconds at their sides. Rajin has brought one. From fifty paces their long black coats appear to hang on them like Spanish moss clinging heavy to dead trees. Aed has tried his damnedest to come alone.
Rajin’s second is a myth of a man--a supposed genius named Caleb that the army was certain had eaten the warm end of a gun barrel years ago, as penitence for what he’d let loose on the world. Aed would like to be the man who brings him in to the higher ups, but there’s no way he can overpower both of them or transport them if he could. For now he’ll have to settle with being the man who brings the story of Caleb in. To people who want to believe, whisperings of the sighting of a monster are almost as good as actual proof.
“You have a talent for choosing friends,” Aed says, forcing his voice up and out across the space. “Did this one seduce you as well? Did he promise you the world?”
“He hasn’t promised me anything, and neither did she.” Rajin’s sure and steady reaction surprises Aed. He has learned to control his emotions. Aed would praise him for it if he wasn’t depending on rashness.
“We both know that’s a lie,” he says.
Rajin opens his mouth to answer, but his attention is drawn away to the launch tower behind Aed. There’s a faint crunch of boots in fresh snow. Aed watches as Caleb raises his gun and gets off a shot before Rajin has a chance to protest.
The sound echoes across the frozen, empty marshland surrounding them, rippling through the stillness but not affecting it. After the air clears Aed turns to see what has happened. His second in command, Feliks, is crumpled on the ground twenty feet from him.
A feeling of defeat tries to settle into Aed, but he shoves it away, refusing to confront the emotion that must be pushing it along. The snow melts wherever her blood advances on it and it looks as if there is steam rising from the wound in her gut. He draws himself up, mustering every last bit of the familiar condescension he uses as a mask, reeling from not being the one in her place.
At the other end of the blanket of broken concrete Rajin is being pulled away. He’s shouting about what was and wasn’t supposed to happen and fighting against his second, reprimanding Caleb for interfering and ignoring the fact that the young man had probably just saved his leg, if not his life. Aed had fully intended to pull the trigger on Rajin after making him squirm a bit. He is certain Rajin could not have done the same to him.
Ignoring the spectacle, Aed moves to stand over Feliks. He looks down on her, aware that if their places were switched she would have dropped to her knees, cradled his head in her lap, and wiped away the betraying tears of pain. He can’t do that. He wouldn’t allow himself to if he thought that he could.
Her pupils are blown and her irises match the smoke colored sky. They dart back and forth, trying to find something to focus on. Her breath is ragged. “I’m sorry.” She gulps on the frozen air. “There were two of them. My priority is your life.”
“It should be your own. Can you walk back to camp?”
“If you’ll permit me to lean on you, sir.”
“You’re already heavy enough,” he says dispassionately. “But I don’t see that you’ve given me a choice.”
AUTHOR:
momebieRATING: PG
WORD COUNT: 691
FEEDBACK: On || FEEDBACK TYPE: Tactful
WARNING: Character injury.
SUMMARY: Aed doesn't depend on others and he doesn't know why they depend on him.
PROMPTS: "write a still-life"
A/N: This was really hard to pull out once I settled on the scenario, which is unusual for me. I don't know if that works for or against it. Also, in case Snow In Florida is confusing: it's the future! Weather patterns be damned!
The long abandoned NASA launch site is perched on the edge of the Florida marsh, rising up from the grey scenery and nailing the past into place. The pad itself has caved in, but the complex mass of metal arms, towers, and cables is still standing. It challenges the weather. It challenges the future. It’s a nostalgic relic that challenges the very world that Aed is fighting for. Rust leaks from riveted eyes, making it look tired and wounded. He can relate.
Every time two men stand toe-to-toe there should be seconds at their sides. Rajin has brought one. From fifty paces their long black coats appear to hang on them like Spanish moss clinging heavy to dead trees. Aed has tried his damnedest to come alone.
Rajin’s second is a myth of a man--a supposed genius named Caleb that the army was certain had eaten the warm end of a gun barrel years ago, as penitence for what he’d let loose on the world. Aed would like to be the man who brings him in to the higher ups, but there’s no way he can overpower both of them or transport them if he could. For now he’ll have to settle with being the man who brings the story of Caleb in. To people who want to believe, whisperings of the sighting of a monster are almost as good as actual proof.
“You have a talent for choosing friends,” Aed says, forcing his voice up and out across the space. “Did this one seduce you as well? Did he promise you the world?”
“He hasn’t promised me anything, and neither did she.” Rajin’s sure and steady reaction surprises Aed. He has learned to control his emotions. Aed would praise him for it if he wasn’t depending on rashness.
“We both know that’s a lie,” he says.
Rajin opens his mouth to answer, but his attention is drawn away to the launch tower behind Aed. There’s a faint crunch of boots in fresh snow. Aed watches as Caleb raises his gun and gets off a shot before Rajin has a chance to protest.
The sound echoes across the frozen, empty marshland surrounding them, rippling through the stillness but not affecting it. After the air clears Aed turns to see what has happened. His second in command, Feliks, is crumpled on the ground twenty feet from him.
A feeling of defeat tries to settle into Aed, but he shoves it away, refusing to confront the emotion that must be pushing it along. The snow melts wherever her blood advances on it and it looks as if there is steam rising from the wound in her gut. He draws himself up, mustering every last bit of the familiar condescension he uses as a mask, reeling from not being the one in her place.
At the other end of the blanket of broken concrete Rajin is being pulled away. He’s shouting about what was and wasn’t supposed to happen and fighting against his second, reprimanding Caleb for interfering and ignoring the fact that the young man had probably just saved his leg, if not his life. Aed had fully intended to pull the trigger on Rajin after making him squirm a bit. He is certain Rajin could not have done the same to him.
Ignoring the spectacle, Aed moves to stand over Feliks. He looks down on her, aware that if their places were switched she would have dropped to her knees, cradled his head in her lap, and wiped away the betraying tears of pain. He can’t do that. He wouldn’t allow himself to if he thought that he could.
Her pupils are blown and her irises match the smoke colored sky. They dart back and forth, trying to find something to focus on. Her breath is ragged. “I’m sorry.” She gulps on the frozen air. “There were two of them. My priority is your life.”
“It should be your own. Can you walk back to camp?”
“If you’ll permit me to lean on you, sir.”
“You’re already heavy enough,” he says dispassionately. “But I don’t see that you’ve given me a choice.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2012-03-01 04:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-01 04:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-01 04:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-01 04:12 pm (UTC)In general, through some very hard work of Caleb's under the protection and care of the UN, we contacted alien races. And then we wanted to be part of their councils, which they didn't really agree with but gave us a probationary period to prove that we weren't all still killing each other. Which, of course we were. So there was some heavy militarization to try and quell pretty much everyone, which as you can imagine most people didn't like. So there are rebel groups and military experiments with alien consciousnesses and Caleb trying to make up for what he feels like he did and lots of shooting things.
And also it's very cold. But I had decided that before I decided to set it in Florida--which I did because my knowledge of Florida's military bases is more in-depth than military bases anywhere else--so I'm going to have to figure out whether I want to redo my palate here or come up with an actual reason for it to actually be so cold. There are two books that need to be done before this though. So there's time.
I'm rambling! Mostly I'm saying thank you. :D
no subject
Date: 2012-03-01 08:45 am (UTC)Ignoring the spectacle, Aed moves to stand over Feliks. He looks down on her, aware that if their places were switched she would have dropped to her knees, cradled his head in her lap, and wiped away the betraying tears of pain. He can’t do that. He wouldn’t allow himself to if he thought that he could. I really liked this piece, it gave a real sense of character, showing not telling.
Lots of interesting snippets of world building. One jar - the word "higher ups" seems really grounded in 2012, I'm not sure why. I wanted a word more like "Authority" or "Council" or somesuch (neither of which are futuristic per se but aren't so very colloquial now). NITPICK!
Cool story. Hell, cool novel, here.
no subject
Date: 2012-03-01 04:20 pm (UTC)Aed's pretty much a sociopath, but over the course of the thing he'll waiver and crack a bit. He's also never been directly in charge of other soldiers before this period in time, so he's not sure how to handle their emotions at all. I imagine at the end that it will only be him and Caleb left alive, but that might change in the time to come.
That's a good point, about the term 'higher ups'. Honestly, I hadn't really thought about the US branches of the military changing that much in the 60 years between now and when this takes place. (Though I might push it farther into the future eventually. Right now the year 2072 is just a shout out to Cowboy Bebop for all it did to rekindle my interest in science fiction. I started playing with this so long ago, it feels like.) There will definitely be talk about Councils and Authorities and things in reference to the larger, overarching forms of governments and military sets, and also with the aliens, which I don't touch on here at all. Though it might also be because the term 'higher ups' doesn't feel native coming from his particular mouth either, which I can see. It's something I'll have to play around with.
no subject
Date: 2012-03-01 03:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-01 04:23 pm (UTC)