Prism - Introduction
Apr. 28th, 2005 04:43 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
http://users.livejournal.com/_darlingnicky_/ posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
crossoverficGreetings! I'm new to this community, but not to writing. I'm very glad to have found you, because I hadn't an idea where to post this.
Title: Prism - Introduction
Author: Lady BD
Fandoms: LOST, The Faculty and LotR cast
Pairing: multiple slash - eventually
E-mail: heerozechs195@yahoo.com
Website: All previous fic can temporarily be found at: http://www.digitalmidnight.net/ladybd
Archive: With permission only
Disclaimer: Not mine. I'm too poor to sue.
Summary: This is my answer to a challenge. Casey Connor (the Faculty) somehow interacts with Charlie Pace (Lost) which leads to his investigation of the crash of Oceanic 815. Extra points if Zeke is somehow involved. I tossed in the rest for fun. This is strictly an introduction.
Rating: anyone's guess for this part. There's no sex if that's what you mean.
Notes: There is NO reason to post this except ego.
Words: 1,100
Mostly, he saw rainbows.
The sand between his toes reflected subtle, brilliant flashes of color. Glass was made from sand. Compressed sand. Melted sand. It felt good between his toes. When he burrowed his feet in slightly the shimmering surface gave way to a cool, welcoming tan. It squashed most obligingly, even offering a reassuring compacting sound quite unlike snow - no matter how much it looked like snow. A beach of snow. He'd never seen anything like that. Was there ever such a thing as a beach of snow?
Without hurry his gaze slid across the surface of the waves. Head turned one way, the waves curved into a breaking pattern down the beach. At the crest of each one a joyous rainbow exploded into the air, celebrating the completion of a long journey perhaps. Head turned the other way, a school of fish darted just under the surface of deeper waters. Now and again one would leap. Happy? Scared? Bored? It didn't matter. The scales caught the sun - a living prism of light.
It took time for the crab to walk close enough for it to tap his toe. It seemed the animal considered the toe for quiet some time. Maybe it had never seen a toe before. Maybe it was a newcomer. There were many toes down the beach. Toes and fingers and hands and...
A great noise rose in his head. Whatever he had been thinking was gone. It mimicked the gently reassuring roll of waves older than time. They all reflected rainbows. Even the crab, its shell pearly in the fading light, seemed to gleam like a jewel. After a proper amount of meditation, the crab decided he was not good to eat, nor was the crab itself about to be eaten. Without hurry it continued a sideways journey down the beach, toward a suddenly endless supply of dinners and lunches especially suited for crabkind.
From his place nestled in the sand (when had he laid down? How long had he been on this beach? Was it really a beach?) he could see more, not less. Level with the waving sand which led to endless waving water, he studied darkening crystals that only casually seemed white. The sand had no color. Every color. As the sun set it turned pink, pale and vibrant. Orange, even a slight red. The rainbows of the water became sprays of fire as a ball larger than any he'd ever known sank slowly from the sky.
Like he had. They had. They came out of the sky too. He wondered, not caring, if the sun would ever recover from such a crash into an ocean so wide and eternal.
With the setting of the sun all became still but the wind. Maria was constant, blowing into his face. Which was good. No matter how he sat or laid or walked, he took care always to walk into the wind. Never behind. The last time the wind came from behind...
No warning prepared him for the next in an increasingly violent series. He blinked. Like a scene from Clockwork Orange, scenes of impossible violence engulfed him, yet he could not look away or even close his eyes. Of course. His eyes WERE closed. This was his own personal theater of the mind. They poured over him like hell's waterfall. Dom's face, laughing and happy, a look of terror in eyes impossibly blue, the mobile mouth twisting into a scream when the explosion hit - somewhere behind them. Billy, next to Dom, flung into the air as the plane dropped from below. Somehow he never sees Billy land.
The worst is Orlando. He never sees Orlando or Viggo, across the aisle from him. But he can hear. Whatever it was that hit did so with force. Both of them cried out - once, suddenly, then still. All but Billy trapped to their seats by belts no longer of any use. His body tried to twist, to run from whatever lay before him. Some did, leaping from seats to run screaming, backward. They did not return.
The flashes of the faces around him always lingered longest, especially Dom. The rest, the fire, impossible impact, the screaming silence.
He understood what happened. He had no words or means to communicate it. Even to himself. Cold certainly filled him with the knowledge, but offered no insight on how to deal with it.
He was dead. Or, rather, he had died.
The moment he died he knew. He felt it. The plane compacted around him. The fate of the others must have been similar - they were all in first class. The first to hit. The world crumpled around them as they rediscovered that steel was never intended for flight. He died.
Warm arms around him. Comforting. Strong. He thought of his uncle, who had often carried him to bed as a child. All was still and peaceful. When his eyes cracked open a bit, barely able to focus, he thought the man looked a bit like his uncle. Bald, very blue eyes. "You. All. Right?"
He couldn't hear the words, but the pattern of the lips were obvious. Sound only returned later. The man looked at him closely then gently propped him on the beach and ran, back toward...
That was the first mistake of his new life. One he didn't intend to repeat. He slowly rolled his head to the left to track the man's progress, his bald head gleaming under a tropical sun. Beach ahead, palm trees to the left, rolling ocean to the right. All around? Inferno. Flame. Hell fully realized and understood. The remains of Oceanic Flight 815, which had known that steel was heavy and could not fly, even if her passengers had not. Oily billowing black smoke stained the unbroken sky. People ran, sat, screamed, crawled, burned, twisted and died.
Without hurry Elijah pushed himself back to a sitting position, curling his legs around himself. He had always prided himself on his agility. Without hurry he turned to face the ocean, ignoring the occasional burst of heat to his left. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered.
Mostly, he saw rainbows.
To be continued
Title: Prism - Introduction
Author: Lady BD
Fandoms: LOST, The Faculty and LotR cast
Pairing: multiple slash - eventually
E-mail: heerozechs195@yahoo.com
Website: All previous fic can temporarily be found at: http://www.digitalmidnight.net/ladybd
Archive: With permission only
Disclaimer: Not mine. I'm too poor to sue.
Summary: This is my answer to a challenge. Casey Connor (the Faculty) somehow interacts with Charlie Pace (Lost) which leads to his investigation of the crash of Oceanic 815. Extra points if Zeke is somehow involved. I tossed in the rest for fun. This is strictly an introduction.
Rating: anyone's guess for this part. There's no sex if that's what you mean.
Notes: There is NO reason to post this except ego.
Words: 1,100
Mostly, he saw rainbows.
The sand between his toes reflected subtle, brilliant flashes of color. Glass was made from sand. Compressed sand. Melted sand. It felt good between his toes. When he burrowed his feet in slightly the shimmering surface gave way to a cool, welcoming tan. It squashed most obligingly, even offering a reassuring compacting sound quite unlike snow - no matter how much it looked like snow. A beach of snow. He'd never seen anything like that. Was there ever such a thing as a beach of snow?
Without hurry his gaze slid across the surface of the waves. Head turned one way, the waves curved into a breaking pattern down the beach. At the crest of each one a joyous rainbow exploded into the air, celebrating the completion of a long journey perhaps. Head turned the other way, a school of fish darted just under the surface of deeper waters. Now and again one would leap. Happy? Scared? Bored? It didn't matter. The scales caught the sun - a living prism of light.
It took time for the crab to walk close enough for it to tap his toe. It seemed the animal considered the toe for quiet some time. Maybe it had never seen a toe before. Maybe it was a newcomer. There were many toes down the beach. Toes and fingers and hands and...
A great noise rose in his head. Whatever he had been thinking was gone. It mimicked the gently reassuring roll of waves older than time. They all reflected rainbows. Even the crab, its shell pearly in the fading light, seemed to gleam like a jewel. After a proper amount of meditation, the crab decided he was not good to eat, nor was the crab itself about to be eaten. Without hurry it continued a sideways journey down the beach, toward a suddenly endless supply of dinners and lunches especially suited for crabkind.
From his place nestled in the sand (when had he laid down? How long had he been on this beach? Was it really a beach?) he could see more, not less. Level with the waving sand which led to endless waving water, he studied darkening crystals that only casually seemed white. The sand had no color. Every color. As the sun set it turned pink, pale and vibrant. Orange, even a slight red. The rainbows of the water became sprays of fire as a ball larger than any he'd ever known sank slowly from the sky.
Like he had. They had. They came out of the sky too. He wondered, not caring, if the sun would ever recover from such a crash into an ocean so wide and eternal.
With the setting of the sun all became still but the wind. Maria was constant, blowing into his face. Which was good. No matter how he sat or laid or walked, he took care always to walk into the wind. Never behind. The last time the wind came from behind...
No warning prepared him for the next in an increasingly violent series. He blinked. Like a scene from Clockwork Orange, scenes of impossible violence engulfed him, yet he could not look away or even close his eyes. Of course. His eyes WERE closed. This was his own personal theater of the mind. They poured over him like hell's waterfall. Dom's face, laughing and happy, a look of terror in eyes impossibly blue, the mobile mouth twisting into a scream when the explosion hit - somewhere behind them. Billy, next to Dom, flung into the air as the plane dropped from below. Somehow he never sees Billy land.
The worst is Orlando. He never sees Orlando or Viggo, across the aisle from him. But he can hear. Whatever it was that hit did so with force. Both of them cried out - once, suddenly, then still. All but Billy trapped to their seats by belts no longer of any use. His body tried to twist, to run from whatever lay before him. Some did, leaping from seats to run screaming, backward. They did not return.
The flashes of the faces around him always lingered longest, especially Dom. The rest, the fire, impossible impact, the screaming silence.
He understood what happened. He had no words or means to communicate it. Even to himself. Cold certainly filled him with the knowledge, but offered no insight on how to deal with it.
He was dead. Or, rather, he had died.
The moment he died he knew. He felt it. The plane compacted around him. The fate of the others must have been similar - they were all in first class. The first to hit. The world crumpled around them as they rediscovered that steel was never intended for flight. He died.
Warm arms around him. Comforting. Strong. He thought of his uncle, who had often carried him to bed as a child. All was still and peaceful. When his eyes cracked open a bit, barely able to focus, he thought the man looked a bit like his uncle. Bald, very blue eyes. "You. All. Right?"
He couldn't hear the words, but the pattern of the lips were obvious. Sound only returned later. The man looked at him closely then gently propped him on the beach and ran, back toward...
That was the first mistake of his new life. One he didn't intend to repeat. He slowly rolled his head to the left to track the man's progress, his bald head gleaming under a tropical sun. Beach ahead, palm trees to the left, rolling ocean to the right. All around? Inferno. Flame. Hell fully realized and understood. The remains of Oceanic Flight 815, which had known that steel was heavy and could not fly, even if her passengers had not. Oily billowing black smoke stained the unbroken sky. People ran, sat, screamed, crawled, burned, twisted and died.
Without hurry Elijah pushed himself back to a sitting position, curling his legs around himself. He had always prided himself on his agility. Without hurry he turned to face the ocean, ignoring the occasional burst of heat to his left. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered.
Mostly, he saw rainbows.
To be continued
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