MoreStuff!
10/9/04 11:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyI warned you!This is *wait for it* AU.*gasp* Lex/Clark,more or less,Set in Russia, the 1900's. It involves Rasputin to a certain extent, actually centers on the plot to assassinate him. Kind of. Ok, I suck at this, I'm praying I can even finish it, and not in my typical "And They All Went To The Seashore, The End" kind of thing. Please let me know what you think *quails, and if you think that's not painful...*
Boris Mikhailov Voronkov watched his hounds circle around the wolf, enjoying the whirl of movement as they danced in and out, snapping and biting, driving the animal into a frenzy, and spattering the snow with drops of scarlet. The snow creaked and crunched under the hooves of his horse as it shied from the frenzied activity, and he lashed it, pulled the reigns hard. His bondman winced at his harsh treatment of the horse, but quickly schooled his expression. It wouldn’t do to be caught showing even the slightest sign of disagreement with his Lord. He stroked the thin white scar on his chin in reflex. No, it wouldn’t do at all.
Suddenly the wolf seemed to go insane and redoubled it’s efforts to escape, it rushed the dogs, who boiled around it, ripping and tearing, but the animal burst through the pack, and flew away as the dogs began to attack each other, howling in some strange frenzy of fear. Boris rode into the middle of them lashing and cursing when his servant suddenly pointed up at the sky, shouting something. He turned to the man with lash upraised, but hesitated when he saw his face. The man was truly frightened, something in the sky…he looked up and saw a ball of fire and smoke headed towards them, and now he could hear the heavens screaming as if they were being ripped to shreds, black silhouettes wheeled away in the sky as birds fled whatever it was that tore the skies apart.
A loud explosion roared through the atmosphere, terrifying and deafened everyone, it seemed like the end of the world as horses screamed, men shouted and bolted from their positions, and the dogs dashed everywhere, fear of their master evaporating in the greater fear of what dropped out of the sky.
Following the explosion, Boris heard a strange pattering hissing sound, an odd and eerie sound he could make no connection for, until he looked down and saw gaping holes melting in the snow, large chunks of some burning material were dropping with force everywhere. He stood in the stirrups and shouted at his dogs and vassals to obey. He turned to shout at his bondman too, but the man let out a scream and clutched his chest. Boris watched with interest as he toppled over, his hands scrabbling over the smoking ruin that was his chest. The blood sprayed across the snow, steaming in the cold, streaking swathes of red across the parts of snow that hadn’t been trampled down in the animal’s wild rush to escape, and there a dog lay, skull crushed, and one here, and Boris stared defiantly at the heavens as though challenging God to strike at him. More flaming rock struck around him, a tiny piece pierced his hand and he clapped his other hand across the wound. Blood bubbled up from between his fingers, and he snarled his outrage at being struck. His horse suddenly crumbled to it’s knees, and a spray of warmth struck Boris in the face. His head rocked back at the sensation, his black hair whipping back and sticking where it touched his skin. He opened his eyes and looked down at the hole in his horse’s forehead. Bone and brain fouled his coat and he cursed loud and long and as he struggled to get untangled from his dead mount.
The ground vibrated as a noise that shook his bones and squeezed his lungs tore the air apart. Boris fell to the ground and when he could move again and open his eyes, he saw a metal thing smoking and steaming at the end of a long furrow it had plowed into the earth. He rose to his feet, and a wind sprang up from nowhere and whipped his black coat around his lean form. He strode up to the thing in a manner that befitted a boyar—no hesitation, no outward sign of fear.
The thing was –open, the top of it sprung away, and a hollow revealed inside, a padded hollow with wires and tubes, and objects he could assign no name or function to snaking about the interior and of course, the thing inside it. Because it couldn’t be a human. It came from the sky. Humans could not come out of the sky. Therefore it must come from the moon, or Mars, perhaps Venus. Boris wasted no time in denying the possibility. The thing fell out of the sky, was here and logic said no matter how human it looked, it was not.
What an interesting animal it was. And friendly, that was good, he noted as it held it’s arms out, like a human child might do. It looked so human, so like a child, that he would have been fooled if he hadn’t seen it land with his own eyes. Other of his bondsman dashed forward, clamoring to take care of his wounds. He pulled the blood filled leather glove off his hand so his man could get to the wound, and called for the other's to strip the corpse of his servant of it’s fur coat and wrap the thing up in it, take it back to the house. When the baby boy look alike was brought to him he looked in its eyes and said,” I liked that horse, little creature. You owe me.”
The baby woke up many nights after that, and many years after he had forgotten his origin, crying, his mind filled with pictures of a blood-smeared mask with wild and burning eyes in it, gleaming white teeth, and over all the smell of death.
TBC
Boris Mikhailov Voronkov watched his hounds circle around the wolf, enjoying the whirl of movement as they danced in and out, snapping and biting, driving the animal into a frenzy, and spattering the snow with drops of scarlet. The snow creaked and crunched under the hooves of his horse as it shied from the frenzied activity, and he lashed it, pulled the reigns hard. His bondman winced at his harsh treatment of the horse, but quickly schooled his expression. It wouldn’t do to be caught showing even the slightest sign of disagreement with his Lord. He stroked the thin white scar on his chin in reflex. No, it wouldn’t do at all.
Suddenly the wolf seemed to go insane and redoubled it’s efforts to escape, it rushed the dogs, who boiled around it, ripping and tearing, but the animal burst through the pack, and flew away as the dogs began to attack each other, howling in some strange frenzy of fear. Boris rode into the middle of them lashing and cursing when his servant suddenly pointed up at the sky, shouting something. He turned to the man with lash upraised, but hesitated when he saw his face. The man was truly frightened, something in the sky…he looked up and saw a ball of fire and smoke headed towards them, and now he could hear the heavens screaming as if they were being ripped to shreds, black silhouettes wheeled away in the sky as birds fled whatever it was that tore the skies apart.
A loud explosion roared through the atmosphere, terrifying and deafened everyone, it seemed like the end of the world as horses screamed, men shouted and bolted from their positions, and the dogs dashed everywhere, fear of their master evaporating in the greater fear of what dropped out of the sky.
Following the explosion, Boris heard a strange pattering hissing sound, an odd and eerie sound he could make no connection for, until he looked down and saw gaping holes melting in the snow, large chunks of some burning material were dropping with force everywhere. He stood in the stirrups and shouted at his dogs and vassals to obey. He turned to shout at his bondman too, but the man let out a scream and clutched his chest. Boris watched with interest as he toppled over, his hands scrabbling over the smoking ruin that was his chest. The blood sprayed across the snow, steaming in the cold, streaking swathes of red across the parts of snow that hadn’t been trampled down in the animal’s wild rush to escape, and there a dog lay, skull crushed, and one here, and Boris stared defiantly at the heavens as though challenging God to strike at him. More flaming rock struck around him, a tiny piece pierced his hand and he clapped his other hand across the wound. Blood bubbled up from between his fingers, and he snarled his outrage at being struck. His horse suddenly crumbled to it’s knees, and a spray of warmth struck Boris in the face. His head rocked back at the sensation, his black hair whipping back and sticking where it touched his skin. He opened his eyes and looked down at the hole in his horse’s forehead. Bone and brain fouled his coat and he cursed loud and long and as he struggled to get untangled from his dead mount.
The ground vibrated as a noise that shook his bones and squeezed his lungs tore the air apart. Boris fell to the ground and when he could move again and open his eyes, he saw a metal thing smoking and steaming at the end of a long furrow it had plowed into the earth. He rose to his feet, and a wind sprang up from nowhere and whipped his black coat around his lean form. He strode up to the thing in a manner that befitted a boyar—no hesitation, no outward sign of fear.
The thing was –open, the top of it sprung away, and a hollow revealed inside, a padded hollow with wires and tubes, and objects he could assign no name or function to snaking about the interior and of course, the thing inside it. Because it couldn’t be a human. It came from the sky. Humans could not come out of the sky. Therefore it must come from the moon, or Mars, perhaps Venus. Boris wasted no time in denying the possibility. The thing fell out of the sky, was here and logic said no matter how human it looked, it was not.
What an interesting animal it was. And friendly, that was good, he noted as it held it’s arms out, like a human child might do. It looked so human, so like a child, that he would have been fooled if he hadn’t seen it land with his own eyes. Other of his bondsman dashed forward, clamoring to take care of his wounds. He pulled the blood filled leather glove off his hand so his man could get to the wound, and called for the other's to strip the corpse of his servant of it’s fur coat and wrap the thing up in it, take it back to the house. When the baby boy look alike was brought to him he looked in its eyes and said,” I liked that horse, little creature. You owe me.”
The baby woke up many nights after that, and many years after he had forgotten his origin, crying, his mind filled with pictures of a blood-smeared mask with wild and burning eyes in it, gleaming white teeth, and over all the smell of death.
TBC
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(no subject)
10/11/04 03:48 am (UTC)it's = it is
its = belonging to it
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10/11/04 04:03 am (UTC)