Goodbye LJ...

[windandwater]

This is just to make it official for those who don't know, but I'm leaving LJ completely. For the rest of this week at least. Tomorrow is the Bar Exam and it runs for three days, so don't expect to see me about at all until Thursday night. Or even until the weekend since I plan on spending Thursday after the Bar drunk and crying. No online time for me at all. *whines* It will be hard, but I know I can do it.

So, because I'm a total h0r like that, I am declaring this to be a spam post. Go ahead. Run wild! Give me fics, give me links, give me pics, just babble to your heart's content and rape my inbox so I have something to see when I finally DO come back to the wonderful world of LJ. I don't even care if you write me a drabble and post it one word at a time. XD;

Though, I've tried to make a spam post before and it failed a bit miserably, so I don't have very high expectations this time around. Feel free to prove me wrong though!

♥

Comments

Re: Spoil of War, prologue

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

A week passed in this fashion, Heero devoting most of his time to caring for the stranger. He quickly learned what things inspired fear -- standing water, sharp steel, open flames -- and never to show them in the boy’s presence. No-one was allowed in the tent except for Heero -- and Trowa and Quatre, when they had time to spare. Not wanting a repeat of the violent spell that had occurred the last time that Quatre had attempted to treat the boy, Heero usually fed him some of the knockout drug before the doctor came. Quatre always brought support and encouragement; Heero preferred to talk to Trowa. A friendship between the two was almost inevitable, given their similarities; like the reticent commander, Trowa rarely spoke unless to convey important information, and so Heero always paid him careful attention.

“People are beginning to talk,” Trowa observed towards the end of the week. “Most of the troops don’t see you anyway unless there’s a battle, but you’ve hardly been out in the camp at all for six days now. There are the strangest rumors flying around. Some people are convinced that you were killed in the last battle and General Chang doesn’t want to admit it, while others are sure that you captured General Khushrenada himself and are keeping him in your tent.”

“It’s nice to know that our soldiers have such vivid imaginations,” Heero commented.

“It doesn’t bother you?” Trowa asked, puzzled. Heero just shrugged.

“They can say whatever they like,” he replied. “It does not affect me, or him.”

“Yes. The boy...” Trowa hesitated, faltering a bit in his speech. “You know, it’s more than a little awkward just to call him ‘the boy’ all the time...”

“What else should I call him?” Heero demanded. “ ‘The prisoner?’ He’s not. And I don’t know his name.”

“You could just give him one,” Trowa suggested.

“Name him.” Heero’s voice went flatter than usual. “Like a pet.”