twistdfateangel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
twistdfateangel) wrote2009-12-10 10:21 pm
twistdfateangel) wrote2009-12-10 10:21 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: Raise a toast to the fallen...
Fandom: Kingdom
Characters: Jane, Jane's Grandkids
Summary: Jane, at 75, faces her fallen friends (AU-ish, possible ties to Mexico AU)
“It's cold out. I won't have you catching your death.”
The gray-haired woman reached into the closet and handed Mari a coat. It was, she noticed dimly, her old varsity jacket. Not that Mari would know. The skinny, red-headed elf of a girl only knew her grandmother as “Nanna Ember”, one of the few remaining from her generation's Hunters and Guardians. There were only a few left who remembered her as “Jane”, the short, pear-shaped, mousy young woman who had never been more than a mascot until that one day...
“I'll want it back!” she hollered after Mari. The girl looked back for only a moment, before hopping onto her moped and darting off towards the coming battle. Jane watched her until she vanished around a corner, then headed into the kitchen.
“Another bottle, Nessa?” Jane reached under the sink and took out a lone dusty blue bottle, etched with the words “Property of R. Vemulakonda, Drink/Filch At Your Own Risk”. “Last call, I guess.” There was an old rubber shot cup over the cork and only half a bottle left.
She ripped the cork out with her teeth and splashed a shot into the cup. The kitchen seemed to fill with ghosts with that action. Kitchen parties had been her thing. If you wanted good food, music, and a place to crash if you drank too much, you came to Chez Jane. Deon sat across from Mara, bickering. Loni was jabbering with Nessa about clothes and Reed, Tasha, and Dusty had surrounded the radio, singing along with the old USO CD they'd found. Reddel and Irv were playing checkers, Clover goading them on and Lynn had Peter cornered with a beer and a leer.
Jane turned to them, facing her memories like a firing squad.
“To the past,” she said, raising the cup, “May your future run just fast enough to avoid your mistakes and just slow enough for your merits to catch up.”
She threw back the shot, hard enough to knock her glasses off and send them skating across the floor.
“Nanna?”
Jane righted herself and turned. It was little Deon, clutching his toy bulldog and staring up at his Grandmother and her little shot of liquid heart's ease.
“Nanna, why are you crying?” he lisped.
“Your nanna's just a lonely old lady,” Jane grinned down at him, “C'mere, half-pint. Let's sugar you up before your Papa comes for you.”
Characters: Jane, Jane's Grandkids
Summary: Jane, at 75, faces her fallen friends (AU-ish, possible ties to Mexico AU)
“It's cold out. I won't have you catching your death.”
The gray-haired woman reached into the closet and handed Mari a coat. It was, she noticed dimly, her old varsity jacket. Not that Mari would know. The skinny, red-headed elf of a girl only knew her grandmother as “Nanna Ember”, one of the few remaining from her generation's Hunters and Guardians. There were only a few left who remembered her as “Jane”, the short, pear-shaped, mousy young woman who had never been more than a mascot until that one day...
“I'll want it back!” she hollered after Mari. The girl looked back for only a moment, before hopping onto her moped and darting off towards the coming battle. Jane watched her until she vanished around a corner, then headed into the kitchen.
“Another bottle, Nessa?” Jane reached under the sink and took out a lone dusty blue bottle, etched with the words “Property of R. Vemulakonda, Drink/Filch At Your Own Risk”. “Last call, I guess.” There was an old rubber shot cup over the cork and only half a bottle left.
She ripped the cork out with her teeth and splashed a shot into the cup. The kitchen seemed to fill with ghosts with that action. Kitchen parties had been her thing. If you wanted good food, music, and a place to crash if you drank too much, you came to Chez Jane. Deon sat across from Mara, bickering. Loni was jabbering with Nessa about clothes and Reed, Tasha, and Dusty had surrounded the radio, singing along with the old USO CD they'd found. Reddel and Irv were playing checkers, Clover goading them on and Lynn had Peter cornered with a beer and a leer.
Jane turned to them, facing her memories like a firing squad.
“To the past,” she said, raising the cup, “May your future run just fast enough to avoid your mistakes and just slow enough for your merits to catch up.”
She threw back the shot, hard enough to knock her glasses off and send them skating across the floor.
“Nanna?”
Jane righted herself and turned. It was little Deon, clutching his toy bulldog and staring up at his Grandmother and her little shot of liquid heart's ease.
“Nanna, why are you crying?” he lisped.
“Your nanna's just a lonely old lady,” Jane grinned down at him, “C'mere, half-pint. Let's sugar you up before your Papa comes for you.”
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This is a wonderful snapshot of the cast however, even if it is merely a dream for Jane at the moment. Just, wonderful.
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