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]

“What are you talking about?” Hilde demanded, whipping her head back around to meet Heero’s eyes. There was -- yes, there was a hint of guilt buried in the tone somewhere.

Heero pursued it relentlessly. “The Maxwell soldiers were all killed, but the cook escaped unharmed? Somehow I find that a little difficult to believe, miss Hilde.”

“Are you suggesting that I... that I would betray my own people? My own fiance?” Hilde’s voice rose passionately. “How dare you!”

“Then how?” Heero snarled, inexplicably furious. How did you escape when Duo could not? “Why did you abandon this lover of yours -- “

“He sent me away!” the girl half-cried, leaping up from her chair so quickly that it fell over backwards. She stood there trembling for a long moment, before slowly leaning forward and placing her hands on the table for support. “We knew that Oz was coming for us. All of the women, all of the children were sent away. My fiance -- he told me that he loved me, that he couldn’t stand it if anything happened to me. That he... that he would be able to fight better if he knew I was... safe...” She half-sobbed, then bit it off, and when her voice returned it was low and determined. “But those bastards killed him. Oz killed all my family, and I had nothing. I promised myself that I would never run away from battle again. I swore I would do whatever it took to become a soldier, so I could take revenge on Oz.”

There, that was the guilt she felt. Not that she had sold out her comrades, but only that she had left them. That her friends died, but she had not... could not, not while the possibility of vengeance still existed.

“Sit down, Hilde,” Heero ordered, keeping his face blank. He waited while she sank back into her chair, back into herself.

Re: Spoil of War, prologue

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

A long moment passed as she struggled to pull her defenses back up, before she spoke. “Fine. Then. You know I’m not a traitor, and I’m not going to sell you out to Oz. May I go now? Sir.” She spat the last out with a hint of bitterness.

“No, actually,” Heero commented, watching her with interest now. “I did not bring you here to establish your trustworthiness. I brought you here because a few weeks ago I came into contact with a certain man I expect that you know. I thought you should meet him.”

Hilde glanced up at him over the table, warily meeting his eyes. “Who?” she questioned.

Heero glanced over her head at Trowa, who shrugged slightly. “Do you know Duo Maxwell?”

There was no reply. Heero looked back at her face, a bit puzzled by the lack of reaction, to see Hilde staring wide-eyed as though the gates of the underworld had burst open before her eyes. She had to try several times before she could croak, “Yes. Gods, yes, of course I know Duo. We grew up together. We were best friends. We were -- what -- what are you saying? Duo’s dead -- he’s dead -- Oz killed him two years ago, he’s dead --”

“That’s the general consensus,” Heero said dryly. “But he’s not dead, I can assure you. He’s been staying at this encampment for several weeks now.”

The next moment, Hilde was on her feet and leaning over the table, clutching at Heero’s hand. “Gods, oh gods, this has to be a dream! Duo’s alive? That idiot survived? I don’t believe it! He was right, when he boasted, the God of Death can’t die... Where is he? Take me to him!”

Heero tried -- and failed -- to remove his hand from Hilde’s grip. “He’s at my quarters,” Heero replied repressively.

“You mean he’s been living with you?” Hilde’s incredulous tone struck a nerve somewhere in Heero, but he barely had time to bristle defensively before Hilde laughed. “How can you stand it?”

Heero turned to stare at her incredulously. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on!” Hilde shrugged expressively. “I adore Duo but I can’t deny he’s unbelievably irritating! Half the time I wanted to strangle Duo, just to get him to shut up for a while.”

Re: Spoil of War, prologue

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

A long moment passed as she struggled to pull her defenses back up, before she spoke. “Fine. Then. You know I’m not a traitor, and I’m not going to sell you out to Oz. May I go now? Sir.” She spat the last out with a hint of bitterness.

“No, actually,” Heero commented, watching her with interest now. “I did not bring you here to establish your trustworthiness. I brought you here because a few weeks ago I came into contact with a certain man I expect that you know. I thought you should meet him.”

Hilde glanced up at him over the table, warily meeting his eyes. “Who?” she questioned.

Heero glanced over her head at Trowa, who shrugged slightly. “Do you know Duo Maxwell?”

There was no reply. Heero looked back at her face, a bit puzzled by the lack of reaction, to see Hilde staring wide-eyed as though the gates of the underworld had burst open before her eyes. She had to try several times before she could croak, “Yes. Gods, yes, of course I know Duo. We grew up together. We were best friends. We were -- what -- what are you saying? Duo’s dead -- he’s dead -- Oz killed him two years ago, he’s dead --”

“That’s the general consensus,” Heero said dryly. “But he’s not dead, I can assure you. He’s been staying at this encampment for several weeks now.”

The next moment, Hilde was on her feet and leaning over the table, clutching at Heero’s hand. “Gods, oh gods, this has to be a dream! Duo’s alive? That idiot survived? I don’t believe it! He was right, when he boasted, the God of Death can’t die... Where is he? Take me to him!”

Heero tried -- and failed -- to remove his hand from Hilde’s grip. “He’s at my quarters,” Heero replied repressively.

“You mean he’s been living with you?” Hilde’s incredulous tone struck a nerve somewhere in Heero, but he barely had time to bristle defensively before Hilde laughed. “How can you stand it?”

Heero turned to stare at her incredulously. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on!” Hilde shrugged expressively. “I adore Duo but I can’t deny he’s unbelievably irritating! Half the time I wanted to strangle Duo, just to get him to shut up for a while.”

Re: Spoil of War, prologue

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

Heero purely could not reply. He couldn’t reconcile her words with his own craving need for the rare times that Duo would speak, the strange aching sensation of silence that he had never identified until it was gone, banished by Duo’s voice. When Duo talked, it was a reminder that he was still alive, that he still had a soul that could reach out -- how could anyone want to cut that off, how could anyone...



Duo was winning when Heero came back, absolutely enjoying the frustrated scowl on his doctor’s sweet-featured face as he beat the Saracen at dice. After a year in the army with Trowa, Quatre was well accustomed to waiting patiently for someone to return from obligatory absence; a skill he knew that Duo would need to learn in the days to come. He was not so accustomed to losing, though, and was more than grateful for the interruption when Duo looked up from the table and quietly said, “They’re coming back.”

“Who is?” Quatre asked, sounding a bit surprised. “Heero and Trowa, already?”

“Heero at least,” Duo replied, “maybe Trowa with him.” He titled his head to one side and paused, listening. “Someone else, anyway...”

The canvas tent walls didn’t stop much noise, but no sooner had Quatre picked up on the familiar footsteps out of the background sounds, than they stopped, and only Heero ducked under the tent flap, blank and grim.

“Is something wrong, Heero?” Quatre was the first to speak. “I thought that with the garrison arriving this morning, you’d be gone all day...”

“That’s done with,” Heero told him. “Something else came up.” He glanced over his shoulder, at something neither of the men in the tent could see, and his already displeased expression tightened even further. He dropped the tent flap behind him and closed the distance quickly between him and Duo.

The injured boy looked up at him, a silent question in his violet eyes. Heero hesitated a moment, struggling to overcome some internal pressure, before he finally explained. “Trowa recognized someone among the recruits... someone he thought you might know.”

Re: Spoil of War, prologue

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

Heero purely could not reply. He couldn’t reconcile her words with his own craving need for the rare times that Duo would speak, the strange aching sensation of silence that he had never identified until it was gone, banished by Duo’s voice. When Duo talked, it was a reminder that he was still alive, that he still had a soul that could reach out -- how could anyone want to cut that off, how could anyone...



Duo was winning when Heero came back, absolutely enjoying the frustrated scowl on his doctor’s sweet-featured face as he beat the Saracen at dice. After a year in the army with Trowa, Quatre was well accustomed to waiting patiently for someone to return from obligatory absence; a skill he knew that Duo would need to learn in the days to come. He was not so accustomed to losing, though, and was more than grateful for the interruption when Duo looked up from the table and quietly said, “They’re coming back.”

“Who is?” Quatre asked, sounding a bit surprised. “Heero and Trowa, already?”

“Heero at least,” Duo replied, “maybe Trowa with him.” He titled his head to one side and paused, listening. “Someone else, anyway...”

The canvas tent walls didn’t stop much noise, but no sooner had Quatre picked up on the familiar footsteps out of the background sounds, than they stopped, and only Heero ducked under the tent flap, blank and grim.

“Is something wrong, Heero?” Quatre was the first to speak. “I thought that with the garrison arriving this morning, you’d be gone all day...”

“That’s done with,” Heero told him. “Something else came up.” He glanced over his shoulder, at something neither of the men in the tent could see, and his already displeased expression tightened even further. He dropped the tent flap behind him and closed the distance quickly between him and Duo.

The injured boy looked up at him, a silent question in his violet eyes. Heero hesitated a moment, struggling to overcome some internal pressure, before he finally explained. “Trowa recognized someone among the recruits... someone he thought you might know.”

Re: Spoil of War, prologue

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

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

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

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!”