Schreibaufgaben: Re-Write
Sep. 10th, 2022 11:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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120_minutenChallenge: Schreibaufgaben: Re-Write (fürs Team)
Fandom: One Piece
Pairing: Chaka/Pell
Wörter: 765
A/N: Das hier ist ein Rewrite einer Fic, die ich 2006 geschrieben habe, und die wie ich sehe tatsächlich nicht mehr online ist... Zum Schutz meiner Restwürde belasse ich es dabei, aber bei Bedarf teile ich gern nen GoogleDoc oder so. ;)
Damals hatte ich echt noch gute Schlusssätze. Und ich hoffe der Rest ist seit dem besser geworden.
"Pell..." Chaka closed his eyes, searching for words that would express-- would allow him to--
When he opened his eyes again, the ornately decorated cross was still there, glistening in the sun, and words still eluded him. "I can't believe you're dead."
It was a poor excuse for a eulogy and an ever poorer substitute for what he wanted, no, needed to say. But it was the truth. To some extent.
He couldn't believe the falcon was dead. He didn't want to believe it. Couldn't bear to know it.
But that part, he left unspoken. Just as so many other things over the years.
After that first visit, Chaka continued to not say things. He still visited the grave every day, of course, he just... didn't say anything.
Some days, it felt like a particularly cruel joke. After all, what was a grave without a body if not an elaborate charade? But he didn't say that, not to the empty grave and certainly not to Vivi or the others. He could hardly complain about an empty grave after their friend had been blown to pieces.
They had only found a few singed feathers in the City Square, but that made it inexplicably harder to believe. A few feathers could not be all that was left of Alabasta's greatest warrior, of its Guardian Spirit, of the man Chaka had-- the man he had called his friend. It just wasn't right, it wasn't enough.
So, Chaka visited the grave, trained the new recruits, carried on.
Wherever he went, he expected Pell to show up at his shoulder with a small smile and a sly joke on his lips. When he wasn't at the graveyard or the training grounds, Chaka spent hours on the small balcony of his room, looking down into the courtyard, waiting.
He knew Vivi was worried about him. Igaram, too. Even the king had taken him aside a few days ago to ask Chaka whether he wanted to maybe take some time off or if there was anything he, the king, could do to help. 'You don't need to hurt alone, we're all here for you.'
Chaka would have rather fallen on his sword than accept pity from the man he served. Also, he wasn't hurting, he was waiting. Waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for this to make sense, waiting for the right words to say good-bye.
He had pocketed a soft down feather when cleaning up City Square and carried it with him wherever he went. Initially he'd thought that a memento would make it easier to believe. Now he thought that he needed to stop clinging to this last piece of Pell before he could believe. And maybe then he might be able to get over it, eventually. Not today, not in a few weeks, but in a few years. Hopefully.
Instead, he waited.
He knew that he waited for something that was impossible. He knew. But knowing was something entirely different than believing.
Chaka took a deep breath and let the feather go.
It floated, rotated and, then, slowly, danced down towards the empty courtyard. Chaka closed his eyes.
Nobody could survive the explosion of a bomb like that, not in short range and not in a few hundred metres around it. Not even Pell. Pell was dead and Chaka needed to let him go.
Someone had told him, a long time ago, that the spirits of the dead could only rest when everyone had made peace with their passing. Pell had never believed in things like that.
Chaka needed to let him go, just in case.
When he opened his eyes again, he couldn't make out the feather anymore. He looked down into the courtyard that was as empty as ever. Not that he could have seen the small feather from this distance. It was gone, vanished without a trace.
Chaka was strangely okay with that.
He couldn't have said how long he'd been standing there, staring into the courtyard, desperately trying to find words that would denote a farewell, when the heavy door of his quarters was opened behind him. He didn't turn around at the noise of the hinges creaking or when soft steps sounded behind him. He knew Vivi worried about him.
The feather was placed on the banister next to his hand.
"I have no need for it anymore," Chaka declared heavily. He almost believed it.
"I know," smiled Pell.
Fandom: One Piece
Pairing: Chaka/Pell
Wörter: 765
A/N: Das hier ist ein Rewrite einer Fic, die ich 2006 geschrieben habe, und die wie ich sehe tatsächlich nicht mehr online ist... Zum Schutz meiner Restwürde belasse ich es dabei, aber bei Bedarf teile ich gern nen GoogleDoc oder so. ;)
Damals hatte ich echt noch gute Schlusssätze. Und ich hoffe der Rest ist seit dem besser geworden.
"Pell..." Chaka closed his eyes, searching for words that would express-- would allow him to--
When he opened his eyes again, the ornately decorated cross was still there, glistening in the sun, and words still eluded him. "I can't believe you're dead."
It was a poor excuse for a eulogy and an ever poorer substitute for what he wanted, no, needed to say. But it was the truth. To some extent.
He couldn't believe the falcon was dead. He didn't want to believe it. Couldn't bear to know it.
But that part, he left unspoken. Just as so many other things over the years.
After that first visit, Chaka continued to not say things. He still visited the grave every day, of course, he just... didn't say anything.
Some days, it felt like a particularly cruel joke. After all, what was a grave without a body if not an elaborate charade? But he didn't say that, not to the empty grave and certainly not to Vivi or the others. He could hardly complain about an empty grave after their friend had been blown to pieces.
They had only found a few singed feathers in the City Square, but that made it inexplicably harder to believe. A few feathers could not be all that was left of Alabasta's greatest warrior, of its Guardian Spirit, of the man Chaka had-- the man he had called his friend. It just wasn't right, it wasn't enough.
So, Chaka visited the grave, trained the new recruits, carried on.
Wherever he went, he expected Pell to show up at his shoulder with a small smile and a sly joke on his lips. When he wasn't at the graveyard or the training grounds, Chaka spent hours on the small balcony of his room, looking down into the courtyard, waiting.
He knew Vivi was worried about him. Igaram, too. Even the king had taken him aside a few days ago to ask Chaka whether he wanted to maybe take some time off or if there was anything he, the king, could do to help. 'You don't need to hurt alone, we're all here for you.'
Chaka would have rather fallen on his sword than accept pity from the man he served. Also, he wasn't hurting, he was waiting. Waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for this to make sense, waiting for the right words to say good-bye.
He had pocketed a soft down feather when cleaning up City Square and carried it with him wherever he went. Initially he'd thought that a memento would make it easier to believe. Now he thought that he needed to stop clinging to this last piece of Pell before he could believe. And maybe then he might be able to get over it, eventually. Not today, not in a few weeks, but in a few years. Hopefully.
Instead, he waited.
He knew that he waited for something that was impossible. He knew. But knowing was something entirely different than believing.
Chaka took a deep breath and let the feather go.
It floated, rotated and, then, slowly, danced down towards the empty courtyard. Chaka closed his eyes.
Nobody could survive the explosion of a bomb like that, not in short range and not in a few hundred metres around it. Not even Pell. Pell was dead and Chaka needed to let him go.
Someone had told him, a long time ago, that the spirits of the dead could only rest when everyone had made peace with their passing. Pell had never believed in things like that.
Chaka needed to let him go, just in case.
When he opened his eyes again, he couldn't make out the feather anymore. He looked down into the courtyard that was as empty as ever. Not that he could have seen the small feather from this distance. It was gone, vanished without a trace.
Chaka was strangely okay with that.
He couldn't have said how long he'd been standing there, staring into the courtyard, desperately trying to find words that would denote a farewell, when the heavy door of his quarters was opened behind him. He didn't turn around at the noise of the hinges creaking or when soft steps sounded behind him. He knew Vivi worried about him.
The feather was placed on the banister next to his hand.
"I have no need for it anymore," Chaka declared heavily. He almost believed it.
"I know," smiled Pell.
no subject
Date: 2022-09-11 08:09 pm (UTC)