Hurt/Comfort – Isolation (Für's Team)
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120_minutenTitel: Babysitter
Team: Machine
Challenge: Hurt/Comfort – Isolation (Für's Team)
Fandom: From Dusk till Dawn: The series
Charactere: Brasa, Kate/Amaru
Sprache: Englisch
Wörter: 800
Kommentar: Neues Fandom, here I come!
He doesn’t mind servitude in general, even though Amaru’s arrogance chafes at him on occasion. But he isn’t a babysitter.
Babysitter
He can hear her cry from the top of the stairs. It isn’t loud, barely more than a sniffle and the occasional quiet sob, but his supernatural ears pick it up anyway. He hesitates on the landing.
He was going to bring her another victim, another soul to feed her strength, but clearly this isn’t happening right now. The girl is back, and who knows how long she is here to stay this time. He briefly congratulates himself on having locked the front door this morning.
He sighs quietly and takes off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. This keeps happening. Every time they think the soul of her vessel is gone for good, she’s clawing her way back to the surface. It’s starting to become a problem.
It’s not the first time he considers that he’s bet on the wrong horse. Amaru is his queen, most powerful of the Xibalba, but she isn’t who she used to be. The souls have been restoring her powers, but she’s still struggling with her human shell. And every time she’s overcome, Brasa is left to deal with it.
He doesn’t mind servitude in general, even though Amaru’s arrogance chafes at him on occasion. But he isn’t a babysitter.
Briefly he considers just turning around and leaving her to her misery. He has enough things to take care of while he waits for his mistress to reappear. But the body downstairs is still human, and it’s needs must be taken care of.
So instead of the victim he has stored away in another room upstairs, he fetches food from the kitchen. It’s certainly nothing elaborate: Some bread, a piece of cheese, some fruit. Really quite an old-fashioned meal, now that he thinks about it. But it seems appropriate, and standing in front of the stove definitely wasn’t in his job description.
He puts everything onto a wooden cutting board and grabs a pitcher of water before descending the stairs.
He finds her huddled in a corner, red hair spilling over her arms that she has wrapped around her knees. The sniffling has quieted down to quick, uneven breaths.
He sets down the board onto a table. “You should eat.”
When he doesn’t get a reaction, he crouches down in front of her, holding out a glass of water he has filled from the pitcher. “At least drink something.”
She looks up. Tangled strands of hair are falling into her face and her black make-up is smudged around her eyes. Amaru will not be pleased when she returns, he thinks.
She is still beautiful, and this time, with no risk of being chastened, he looks his fill. Her pale skin looks like porcelain, and her green eyes are shining like emeralds. She looks like something precious, a jewel to protect and cherish.
“Why are you doing this?”, the girl whispers. Kate, he thinks, her name is Kate.
“You wouldn’t understand.” He presses the glass of water into her unsuspecting hands. “Drink.”
For a moment she looks like she wants to throw the water back into his face. But then her thirst wins, and she empties the glass with some big sips.
“Good.” He rises out of the uncomfortable position and points at the table. “Now eat.”
“Why?” There’s a defiant set to her mouth and suddenly she doesn’t look that different from Amaru.
“Because my queen will be unhappy with me if you don’t.”
She regards him for a moment, and he holds her gaze calmly. He doesn’t know what she sees in his face, but to his surprise and maybe also her own she gets up and walks over to the table, where she shoves a piece of cheese into her mouth and chews it like it’s personally responsible for all her misery.
“Thank you.”
He stays to watch her as she eats. Curled up on the single chair, popping grapes and bits of apple into her mouth, she looks like a child again. Innocent. Vulnerable.
Not for the first time he wonders what the hell he is doing here.
When she’s done, he steps over to collect the leftovers. Suddenly she reaches out with a hand and takes hold of his sleeve. “Please. I don’t want to go back to the darkness.”
He looks into her green eyes, wide and pleading. Then he very carefully removes her fingers from his leather jacket. “I’m sorry.”
He’s reached the bottom of the stairs when her voice stops him. “Brasa.” The sound of it goes through him like a cold knife.
He turns around and goes down onto one knee in one fluid motion, bowing his head deep. “Yes, my queen.”
“Bring me that boy from upstairs.” Her voice is melodic and cool, with no trace from the earlier emotion.
“Certainly, my queen.”
He resists the urge to look over his shoulder as he walks up the stairs.
The girl isn’t here anymore.
Team: Machine
Challenge: Hurt/Comfort – Isolation (Für's Team)
Fandom: From Dusk till Dawn: The series
Charactere: Brasa, Kate/Amaru
Sprache: Englisch
Wörter: 800
Kommentar: Neues Fandom, here I come!
He doesn’t mind servitude in general, even though Amaru’s arrogance chafes at him on occasion. But he isn’t a babysitter.
Babysitter
He can hear her cry from the top of the stairs. It isn’t loud, barely more than a sniffle and the occasional quiet sob, but his supernatural ears pick it up anyway. He hesitates on the landing.
He was going to bring her another victim, another soul to feed her strength, but clearly this isn’t happening right now. The girl is back, and who knows how long she is here to stay this time. He briefly congratulates himself on having locked the front door this morning.
He sighs quietly and takes off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. This keeps happening. Every time they think the soul of her vessel is gone for good, she’s clawing her way back to the surface. It’s starting to become a problem.
It’s not the first time he considers that he’s bet on the wrong horse. Amaru is his queen, most powerful of the Xibalba, but she isn’t who she used to be. The souls have been restoring her powers, but she’s still struggling with her human shell. And every time she’s overcome, Brasa is left to deal with it.
He doesn’t mind servitude in general, even though Amaru’s arrogance chafes at him on occasion. But he isn’t a babysitter.
Briefly he considers just turning around and leaving her to her misery. He has enough things to take care of while he waits for his mistress to reappear. But the body downstairs is still human, and it’s needs must be taken care of.
So instead of the victim he has stored away in another room upstairs, he fetches food from the kitchen. It’s certainly nothing elaborate: Some bread, a piece of cheese, some fruit. Really quite an old-fashioned meal, now that he thinks about it. But it seems appropriate, and standing in front of the stove definitely wasn’t in his job description.
He puts everything onto a wooden cutting board and grabs a pitcher of water before descending the stairs.
He finds her huddled in a corner, red hair spilling over her arms that she has wrapped around her knees. The sniffling has quieted down to quick, uneven breaths.
He sets down the board onto a table. “You should eat.”
When he doesn’t get a reaction, he crouches down in front of her, holding out a glass of water he has filled from the pitcher. “At least drink something.”
She looks up. Tangled strands of hair are falling into her face and her black make-up is smudged around her eyes. Amaru will not be pleased when she returns, he thinks.
She is still beautiful, and this time, with no risk of being chastened, he looks his fill. Her pale skin looks like porcelain, and her green eyes are shining like emeralds. She looks like something precious, a jewel to protect and cherish.
“Why are you doing this?”, the girl whispers. Kate, he thinks, her name is Kate.
“You wouldn’t understand.” He presses the glass of water into her unsuspecting hands. “Drink.”
For a moment she looks like she wants to throw the water back into his face. But then her thirst wins, and she empties the glass with some big sips.
“Good.” He rises out of the uncomfortable position and points at the table. “Now eat.”
“Why?” There’s a defiant set to her mouth and suddenly she doesn’t look that different from Amaru.
“Because my queen will be unhappy with me if you don’t.”
She regards him for a moment, and he holds her gaze calmly. He doesn’t know what she sees in his face, but to his surprise and maybe also her own she gets up and walks over to the table, where she shoves a piece of cheese into her mouth and chews it like it’s personally responsible for all her misery.
“Thank you.”
He stays to watch her as she eats. Curled up on the single chair, popping grapes and bits of apple into her mouth, she looks like a child again. Innocent. Vulnerable.
Not for the first time he wonders what the hell he is doing here.
When she’s done, he steps over to collect the leftovers. Suddenly she reaches out with a hand and takes hold of his sleeve. “Please. I don’t want to go back to the darkness.”
He looks into her green eyes, wide and pleading. Then he very carefully removes her fingers from his leather jacket. “I’m sorry.”
He’s reached the bottom of the stairs when her voice stops him. “Brasa.” The sound of it goes through him like a cold knife.
He turns around and goes down onto one knee in one fluid motion, bowing his head deep. “Yes, my queen.”
“Bring me that boy from upstairs.” Her voice is melodic and cool, with no trace from the earlier emotion.
“Certainly, my queen.”
He resists the urge to look over his shoulder as he walks up the stairs.
The girl isn’t here anymore.
no subject
Date: 2023-08-05 10:31 am (UTC)Ich kann es dir übrigens nicht wirklich erklären, aber He doesn’t mind servitude in general ist ein toller, toller charakterisierender Satz. <3
(Und er passt so gut zu seinem reluctant Mitgefühl und dem Ende und... Ich mag dieses Satzfragment.)
Sag mir, dass deine Plotbunnies mehr Vampire in Lederjacken beinhalten. =D