Fic: Shadow Play
Feb. 24th, 2004 09:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
woodfaceDisclaimers: Miiiiiiiiine. All of it. What do you mean, you don't want it? Pah!
Rating: G
Summary: Oh just read! It's too weird for a summary.
A/N: Huge big thanks to Julie for putting up with my crisis. And to my dearest guinea pigs for their encouragements, you know who you are. *smoooooooochies*
Shadows play across the pavement, dampening the reflection of the streetlights. The city is sleeping; the sound of the highway smothered by the towering houses that press in on the alley. All windows are dark: no one watches as a sound like thunder splits the starry night sky.
No one sees the figure tumble down hard on the pavement, a soft moan muffled by his cloak.
The city holds its breath, waiting for the figure to move. But nothing happens.
A soft breeze picks up, black cloth moving over the motionless body. It whispers, pleads for him to get up because the city still isn’t breathing.
He stirs. Not much, but just enough.
Smooth but strong fingers draw power from the earth. He stays down, but the city breathes.
The murmurs of the highway wash through the alley; like waves they crash on the figure. The tides rise as dawn slowly approaches.
Inside the houses, life stirs. People awaken and prepare.
The city still is waiting. Now breathing its hope into him.
He rises. Tired muscles ache as he pushes himself up from the pavement. His lungs fill with air, the tang of the smog settling on his tongue.
Unsteady legs support him, the cloak now nothing more but rags. They hang from his starved body.
He’s famished.
The city guides him. Along narrow streets right to the centre of its beating heart. It knows his needs, so unlike those of its habitants and yet the same.
He shivers and the city leads him to the warmest places. Wraps its stony arms around him and keeps him from the cold. Yet it knows that he needs more.
The heart is throbbing under the midday sun, people moving between destinations. His eyes rove over thousands of faces but none will turn to him.
The city watches him reach out, hands asking for salvation but never being filled.
One passer-by stops and the city hopes. A hand reaches for him and his soul within stirs.
But the cold copper that it offers freezes his skin. Eyes meet fleetingly, too short to feed. The man turns and the copper falls to the ground. The city rages.
Time slips by, the sun’s path across the blurry sky shortening. The city despairs.
His strength is waning, the waking soul crumples.
The city weeps as the last light fades and its inhabitants withdraw and again hide behind darkened windows. It guides him back to the narrow alley, feeling his pain as if it were its own.
The shadows try to soothe him when he falls. The city reaches for him, trying to give what he couldn’t find. But it’s not the embrace he was looking for.
The wind picks up, wanting to lighten his burden and taking the rags from him.
He smiles for the first time. His wings spreading and reaching for the sky as they finally are released from the worn cloak. He knows that they could have been powerful. They could have carried him far away. Bit he is too tired, too weak and ravenous for what he could not find.
“Too soon,” he whispers to the city and he feels her agreement. Warm and gentle shadows wrap around him.
When finally someone looks, all that’s left is wind and shadow play.
Rating: G
Summary: Oh just read! It's too weird for a summary.
A/N: Huge big thanks to Julie for putting up with my crisis. And to my dearest guinea pigs for their encouragements, you know who you are. *smoooooooochies*
Shadows play across the pavement, dampening the reflection of the streetlights. The city is sleeping; the sound of the highway smothered by the towering houses that press in on the alley. All windows are dark: no one watches as a sound like thunder splits the starry night sky.
No one sees the figure tumble down hard on the pavement, a soft moan muffled by his cloak.
The city holds its breath, waiting for the figure to move. But nothing happens.
A soft breeze picks up, black cloth moving over the motionless body. It whispers, pleads for him to get up because the city still isn’t breathing.
He stirs. Not much, but just enough.
Smooth but strong fingers draw power from the earth. He stays down, but the city breathes.
The murmurs of the highway wash through the alley; like waves they crash on the figure. The tides rise as dawn slowly approaches.
Inside the houses, life stirs. People awaken and prepare.
The city still is waiting. Now breathing its hope into him.
He rises. Tired muscles ache as he pushes himself up from the pavement. His lungs fill with air, the tang of the smog settling on his tongue.
Unsteady legs support him, the cloak now nothing more but rags. They hang from his starved body.
He’s famished.
The city guides him. Along narrow streets right to the centre of its beating heart. It knows his needs, so unlike those of its habitants and yet the same.
He shivers and the city leads him to the warmest places. Wraps its stony arms around him and keeps him from the cold. Yet it knows that he needs more.
The heart is throbbing under the midday sun, people moving between destinations. His eyes rove over thousands of faces but none will turn to him.
The city watches him reach out, hands asking for salvation but never being filled.
One passer-by stops and the city hopes. A hand reaches for him and his soul within stirs.
But the cold copper that it offers freezes his skin. Eyes meet fleetingly, too short to feed. The man turns and the copper falls to the ground. The city rages.
Time slips by, the sun’s path across the blurry sky shortening. The city despairs.
His strength is waning, the waking soul crumples.
The city weeps as the last light fades and its inhabitants withdraw and again hide behind darkened windows. It guides him back to the narrow alley, feeling his pain as if it were its own.
The shadows try to soothe him when he falls. The city reaches for him, trying to give what he couldn’t find. But it’s not the embrace he was looking for.
The wind picks up, wanting to lighten his burden and taking the rags from him.
He smiles for the first time. His wings spreading and reaching for the sky as they finally are released from the worn cloak. He knows that they could have been powerful. They could have carried him far away. Bit he is too tired, too weak and ravenous for what he could not find.
“Too soon,” he whispers to the city and he feels her agreement. Warm and gentle shadows wrap around him.
When finally someone looks, all that’s left is wind and shadow play.
