Duo blinked. “You mean, one of my men?” he asked, hardly daring to believe.
A slight frown tightened Heero’s features. “Well, not exactly...”
An angry cry pierced through the canvas walls, from outside. “Don’t you tell me to wait!” shouted a vibrant female voice. “I haven’t seen him in two years -- I’m damn well done with waiting!”
Footsteps sounded from outside the tent; one stride firm and determined, and another one pattering after. Duo’s eyes grew impossibly wide, and his indrawn breath caught in his throat. “Hilde?” he breathed, astonished. “Here? But how?”
Trowa’s quiet words came into hearing as the footsteps drew close to the entrance. “...just saying he may have changed!” he was saying urgently. “It’s been two years --”
“No way! He’s still Duo -- “ Hilde burst into the tent with such force that the wooden frame rattled. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the change in lighting as she scanned the interior, and instantly locked on the slender frame seated at the edge of the bed, still holding onto Heero’s arms. “...Duo?”
He looked at her, in the sudden frozen silence.
For one instant, her eyes locked on him, and joy lit their depths. But another heartbeat passed, and another, and things began to register. Her eyes moved over the vivid coloring of bruises, over the ugly scars and barely-healed sores, the still-visible bones through his flesh. The glad cry froze on her lips, and her expression crumbled into pieces as, at the last, she looked up into Duo’s eyes, and saw the barely-hidden desolation there.
An expression of horror blanched over her face, lingered in the faintly sick pallor about her eyes. Her frame trembled, slightly, as she fell back one step, then another. “No, that can’t be... you’re not Duo... not my beautiful Duo, this can’t be -- this can’t be!”
Re: Spoil of War, prologue
Date: 2006-02-28 01:19 am (UTC)Duo blinked. “You mean, one of my men?” he asked, hardly daring to believe.
A slight frown tightened Heero’s features. “Well, not exactly...”
An angry cry pierced through the canvas walls, from outside. “Don’t you tell me to wait!” shouted a vibrant female voice. “I haven’t seen him in two years -- I’m damn well done with waiting!”
Footsteps sounded from outside the tent; one stride firm and determined, and another one pattering after. Duo’s eyes grew impossibly wide, and his indrawn breath caught in his throat. “Hilde?” he breathed, astonished. “Here? But how?”
Trowa’s quiet words came into hearing as the footsteps drew close to the entrance. “...just saying he may have changed!” he was saying urgently. “It’s been two years --”
“No way! He’s still Duo -- “ Hilde burst into the tent with such force that the wooden frame rattled. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the change in lighting as she scanned the interior, and instantly locked on the slender frame seated at the edge of the bed, still holding onto Heero’s arms. “...Duo?”
He looked at her, in the sudden frozen silence.
For one instant, her eyes locked on him, and joy lit their depths. But another heartbeat passed, and another, and things began to register. Her eyes moved over the vivid coloring of bruises, over the ugly scars and barely-healed sores, the still-visible bones through his flesh. The glad cry froze on her lips, and her expression crumbled into pieces as, at the last, she looked up into Duo’s eyes, and saw the barely-hidden desolation there.
An expression of horror blanched over her face, lingered in the faintly sick pallor about her eyes. Her frame trembled, slightly, as she fell back one step, then another. “No, that can’t be... you’re not Duo... not my beautiful Duo, this can’t be -- this can’t be!”