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, book 2

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

When everything at last was done that had to be done, the last rays of the sun still filtered through the dust, bathing the buildings in gold and the ground in red. Torches were being lit, for those whose work would go on long into the night, but they would not need Heero to direct them. So, for the first time, he chose to return to his tent rather than go on working through the night as was his usual habit.

He walked in with a greeting on his lips, but it froze as the unexpected scene jolted his eyes. His papers were not on the desktop. Across the room, Duo stood in the last patch of sunlight, his hands carefully angled to catch the light, head bent over the sheets. He looked up as Heero walked in, eyes wide and startled.

Heero couldn’t stop himself from blurting out, “What are you doing?”

Duo smiled at him, lowering his arms. “Come and look at this,” he invited instead, the hitch still in his walk as he returned to the desk and spread the paper over the desktop. His spread hand covered over a webwork of lines, some in ink, and some -- still fresh and new -- in charcoal.

Biting back further demands for answers, Heero followed Duo’s invitation to sit. Duo moved his hand away, and Heero dropped his eyes to the paper. It took a minute for the markings to make sense to his mind.

When they did, he glanced back up and met Duo’s gaze, his first question replaced by new ones. He didn’t need to ask if this was Duo’s work -- it could hardly have been anyone else’s. “Why?” he asked instead, quiet again.

Duo leaned against the back of the chair to take the weight off his feet, leaning on hand on Heero’s shoulder and one hand on the desk. “It’s a good plan,” he answered. “But it could be better. You see? These hills, on the west side -- if you moved up here, and here,” he touched the new marks, “instead of staying in the box. You would be able to see farther, to shoot farther. Then, you could hold back here -- you wouldn’t need to press forward so far. Then you could move to where you need to be, once you’ve seen how things go. You could have more mobility.”

Heero was silent for a moment, digesting this. “But now the left flank is vulnerable,” he said quietly.