wintersday (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wintersday) wrote2021-03-28 11:51 pm
wintersday) wrote2021-03-28 11:51 pm
Entry tags:
- character: homestuck: aimless renegade,
- character: homestuck: pm,
- character: homestuck: wq,
- character: homestuck: wv,
- fandom: fbg: fallen london,
- fandom: homestuck: homestuck,
- fanfic,
- fanfic: length: under 1k,
- fanfic: rating: pg,
- fanfic: type: gen,
- format: drabble sequence,
- trope: au - canon divergence,
- trope: crossover,
- trope: doomed timelines,
- trope: dreams,
- trope: first meetings,
- trope: friendship,
- trope: mutual loyalty,
- trope: rebellion
Fic: Reflections
Title: Reflections
Fandom: Homestuck
Major Characters/Pairings: WV, Aimless Renegade, PM, WQ
Wordcount: 400
Rating: PG
POV: Second person
Summary: In the place behind mirrors, four Exiles from different timelines meet again for the first time.
Notes: The Parabolan War content in Fallen London allows your character to hire a mercenary company of free chess pieces, whose ultimate goal is to found a kingdom of their own. Naturally, I thought of the Exiles.
The wasteland’s gone wrong, since the John boy died. The winds are lonesome with no Heir to shepherd them, the sky cracked and reflective. You wander errandless, until the smoke of cooking fires leads you to a mismatched company, black and white in gleaming array. Red too; wherever you are, it’s not where you were before. These aren’t the comrades who followed you and died.
A Watchful Quartermaster offers water, food, welcome. No monarchs here, she says. Their cause is their own; their dream, you recognize. Peace. Liberty. Home.
You’ll stay, you decide. You’ll fight for it with them.
Or:
It’s a lawless country that the gate dropped you in. No regard for order.
An ocean filled your meteor’s crater after you crashed, and a forest grew up around the edges. Fish darted among the leaves. Snakes hissed at you from the canopy. When you attempted egress, a thorny prison encircled you – until a Willful Vanguard broke through the thicket and pulled you free.
He’s a deserter from a motley cohort of deserters, but so are you, though you never meant to be. He offers you a place. A purpose. Camaraderie. Repaying that with retribution is no justice.
Or maybe:
You were always here, the reflection of a pawn in a fallen city. She was a courier, until she fell in love; you were a Pertinacious Messenger, until the war rolled over you.
Reflections dream too, even in defeat. In the waking world, a pawn is discarded. In this one, an Adamant Ranger pulls you from the mire of battle. Your mission still matters, you tell him: no word lost. A gruff nod. He understands.
Your wounds heal. You take up the sword again, to strive for a kingdom where your work is not the work of shadows.
But perhaps:
You were a queen once. You tell this to the Peaceable Mercenary, who doesn’t know you after all, over a plate of dream fruit plucked from dream trees. You gave it up, with your ring and sword, to a more worthy keeper. After that, you died, or at least you remember that happening.
The Mercenary listens, head tilted. You never lost each other in this dream, but still, she touches your hand in comfort. They have no love for Queens here, she informs you, but no enmity for Questants. As for what you’ll be...
That’s up to you, isn’t it?
Fandom: Homestuck
Major Characters/Pairings: WV, Aimless Renegade, PM, WQ
Wordcount: 400
Rating: PG
POV: Second person
Summary: In the place behind mirrors, four Exiles from different timelines meet again for the first time.
Notes: The Parabolan War content in Fallen London allows your character to hire a mercenary company of free chess pieces, whose ultimate goal is to found a kingdom of their own. Naturally, I thought of the Exiles.
The wasteland’s gone wrong, since the John boy died. The winds are lonesome with no Heir to shepherd them, the sky cracked and reflective. You wander errandless, until the smoke of cooking fires leads you to a mismatched company, black and white in gleaming array. Red too; wherever you are, it’s not where you were before. These aren’t the comrades who followed you and died.
A Watchful Quartermaster offers water, food, welcome. No monarchs here, she says. Their cause is their own; their dream, you recognize. Peace. Liberty. Home.
You’ll stay, you decide. You’ll fight for it with them.
Or:
It’s a lawless country that the gate dropped you in. No regard for order.
An ocean filled your meteor’s crater after you crashed, and a forest grew up around the edges. Fish darted among the leaves. Snakes hissed at you from the canopy. When you attempted egress, a thorny prison encircled you – until a Willful Vanguard broke through the thicket and pulled you free.
He’s a deserter from a motley cohort of deserters, but so are you, though you never meant to be. He offers you a place. A purpose. Camaraderie. Repaying that with retribution is no justice.
Or maybe:
You were always here, the reflection of a pawn in a fallen city. She was a courier, until she fell in love; you were a Pertinacious Messenger, until the war rolled over you.
Reflections dream too, even in defeat. In the waking world, a pawn is discarded. In this one, an Adamant Ranger pulls you from the mire of battle. Your mission still matters, you tell him: no word lost. A gruff nod. He understands.
Your wounds heal. You take up the sword again, to strive for a kingdom where your work is not the work of shadows.
But perhaps:
You were a queen once. You tell this to the Peaceable Mercenary, who doesn’t know you after all, over a plate of dream fruit plucked from dream trees. You gave it up, with your ring and sword, to a more worthy keeper. After that, you died, or at least you remember that happening.
The Mercenary listens, head tilted. You never lost each other in this dream, but still, she touches your hand in comfort. They have no love for Queens here, she informs you, but no enmity for Questants. As for what you’ll be...
That’s up to you, isn’t it?