The vision stunned Heero into frozen immobility; he stood, stock-still, eyes locked on the chained prisoner. Never in his life had he witnessed the effects of such massively deliberate sadism, but there was something more even beyond that; something that broke past the legion of barriers inside him and touched his very soul. Despite the layer of filth, despite the frenzied snarl and the bestial posture, Heero suddenly became aware that what lay before him was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. There was a purity to the boy’s lines and form, that shone through the mud and grime, and the flashing violet eyes touched him with a creeping sense of the ethereal. He thought he viewed a magnificent swan, wings broken and feathers torn from some careless hunter’s bow, or a priceless stained glass window lying in a broken spray of glittering crystal. The sudden craving to see what that beauty must have been like whole, to view such loveliness as it must have been unbroken, seized upon him until he nearly choked with the force of it.
“His mind must have snapped,” someone muttered from outside his musings, cutting through the daze. “Poor bastard...”
“Poor kid,” someone else agreed. “It’s a damn shame. He was so young... but there’s nothing to do for it now but give him mercy.”
“How?” a third person demanded, and Heero blinked, slowly coming back into the real world. “He attacks anyone who gets within range. Damn strong, too. I certainly don’t want to get close to him with a knife.”
“You don’t have to,” the first person replied easily. “Could someone get the archers over here...”
Still Heero neither moved nor spoke, still dazed by the weight of his strange revelation and uncertain what to do about it, until his vision focused on two men drawing back their bows, arrows aimed at the prisoner’s battered form. “On three,” someone was saying. “One, two...”
Heero wasn’t certain what did it; he felt a sudden flash of... inspiration, perhaps? Certainly it was a new feeling to him, and it was enough to send his hand flashing out to clamp on the nearer archer’s arm. “Don’t,” he said, quietly, but everyone present heard him.
Re: Spoil of War, prologue
Date: 2006-02-27 11:14 pm (UTC)The vision stunned Heero into frozen immobility; he stood, stock-still, eyes locked on the chained prisoner. Never in his life had he witnessed the effects of such massively deliberate sadism, but there was something more even beyond that; something that broke past the legion of barriers inside him and touched his very soul. Despite the layer of filth, despite the frenzied snarl and the bestial posture, Heero suddenly became aware that what lay before him was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. There was a purity to the boy’s lines and form, that shone through the mud and grime, and the flashing violet eyes touched him with a creeping sense of the ethereal. He thought he viewed a magnificent swan, wings broken and feathers torn from some careless hunter’s bow, or a priceless stained glass window lying in a broken spray of glittering crystal. The sudden craving to see what that beauty must have been like whole, to view such loveliness as it must have been unbroken, seized upon him until he nearly choked with the force of it.
“His mind must have snapped,” someone muttered from outside his musings, cutting through the daze. “Poor bastard...”
“Poor kid,” someone else agreed. “It’s a damn shame. He was so young... but there’s nothing to do for it now but give him mercy.”
“How?” a third person demanded, and Heero blinked, slowly coming back into the real world. “He attacks anyone who gets within range. Damn strong, too. I certainly don’t want to get close to him with a knife.”
“You don’t have to,” the first person replied easily. “Could someone get the archers over here...”
Still Heero neither moved nor spoke, still dazed by the weight of his strange revelation and uncertain what to do about it, until his vision focused on two men drawing back their bows, arrows aimed at the prisoner’s battered form. “On three,” someone was saying. “One, two...”
Heero wasn’t certain what did it; he felt a sudden flash of... inspiration, perhaps? Certainly it was a new feeling to him, and it was enough to send his hand flashing out to clamp on the nearer archer’s arm. “Don’t,” he said, quietly, but everyone present heard him.