(no subject)

[in_the_blue]

From ceitfianna: Give me a pair of characters (or just one) and an image as a prompt.

If you do, I will love you forever. Or for as long as I can.

Comments

[silveraspen]

Samuel T. Anders. (Who's surprised? Alternate: Spike.)

Image: California redwoods.

[in_the_blue]

And to think the rest of the team grumbled about coming up here to Delphi for high-altitude training. Frak that: there's nothing, nothing like the smell of the clean air in a mountain forest. All his life he's had a thing for the outdoors. Sure, there was a really nice track at the gym at his high school back on Picon, but shit weather or not, he ran outside. Same thing at Atlas, with its state-of-the-art facilities: he runs outside. On the field, around the backstops, up through the seats, to the top tier and behind where he has a clear path. He can spend frakking hours doing that. It's as close as he gets to high-altitude right there in the heart of C-City, as close as he gets to that feeling of unfettered freedom he has now.

Delphi. He loves it here. He went to school not too far away, before he was drafted into pro ball, and has the fondest memories. Some of his classmates, man, they were... frakking insane, that's the best way to describe them, but it was good. It was all good, and he loved it then and he loves it now, so many years later. After more than a decade as a pro pyramid player, he still loves coming back here, retracing his steps through these woods, through the well-trod paths that slice through the trees like tributaries leading to some greater ocean.

He could run for hours. Run and breathe every bit of this gorgeous frakking planet right into his lungs and he knows the secret of high-altitude training, knows what miracles it works on the body's systems, about how it floods the circulatory system with oxygen. Gives you a boost for days and days after, too and if it was up to him -- it isn't, but if it was -- he'd be here every week. Every other week, looking up at the sky through the trees, drowning in an ocean of brown and green, feeling his body grow stronger and stronger with every passing minute.

And yeah, he'd still take on two and three and four of his teammates at once and yeah, he'd still lose to them spectacularly, but he wouldn't care. On days like this, everything he wants is right here. It's right frakking here, and he can never get enough.

[silveraspen]

This is wonderful. (And he's so very right.)


Thank you!

[in_the_blue]

Thank you for requesting Sammy! That was a lovely prompt. Pretty picture, too!

[vivien]

A fairy tale in your choice of universes. A happy ending is a must.

Image: http://www.jimwegryn.com/Photos/MistyRiver.jpg

[in_the_blue]

He sat down with her on the bench by the banks of the river. The entire day had been socked in by fog, but that was no matter: Howell was still determined to picnic with his little niece Mari as promised.

"Tell me a story, Uncle Howell."

He'd never been able to resist her requests. Some would call him a pushover, others would shake their heads and laugh and tell the rest they must be joking. Howell Jenkins, the rugby player, a pushover? They could snicker into their beer all they wanted but he would defend his right to be as soft as possible when it came to his niece. Here in the land where he'd grown up, she was a shining star and one of the few things that drew him back over and over again.

"Eat your apple. There's a good girl. All right."

(Mari loved his stories, and he loved an appreciative audience.) "I'm eating, I'm eating. You can tell Mam I did."

"Right then. Once upon a time, there was a star. A star far up in the skies, and he looked down to earth from his lofty place in the heavens and wanted to know what it meant to wander the banks of the river he'd watched for centuries. One night--"

"A foggy night?" Mari prompted.

"One very foggy night, the star took a giant leap of faith and hurled itself from his spot way up there" -- he pointed above the trees to a distant spot in the sky -- "and came to ground. What the star didn't know was that leaving his heavenly home meant that he must make the ultimate sacrifice." Howell's voice grew grave, quiet. By his side Mari watched her favorite uncle, eyes widened in alarm.

"The star had to... to die?" she gasped.

"Wrth gwrs, of course." He waved a dismissive hand. "What the star had no way of knowing was that the very same night, fog or not, a little boy had sneaked out of his house to watch the stars in the sky. Out by the river, over through the marshes he ran to find his very favorite spot to star-gaze. Imagine his surprise when one speck of light came hurtling down from the skies and skipped across the marsh! He ran, as fast as his little legs could carry him, and followed the fuzzy light of that star through the fog, splishing and splashing, scooping him up at the very last moment before the star was about to sizzle into nothing."

Mari sat stock-still, mouth wide open. "Was the star all right, then, Uncle Howell?"

Howell grinned cheerfully. "Well, of course he was. The boy held him in his hands and brought him home and named him Calcifer and let him into his heart, and together the two of them lived happily after. And went on to have many more adventures, I might say."

Mari clapped her hands. "Tell me, tell me all of them!"

"In good time, bach annwyl. If I don't get you back home soon, your mam will have my hide. Shall we?" They packed up the picnic supplies and Howell offered his niece his hand, which Mari took gladly.

"Was that a real story?"

"Don't you know?" The smile he gave her was genuine. "All stories are real. Just do us both a favor and don't tell your mam I said so."

[vivien]

That was lovely. I love how you incorporated the fog.

[in_the_blue]

I read this prompt and I honestly said, oh, crap. I don't do fairy tales, and I rarely do happy endings. But I figured I'd give it a go, and it was a ton of fun. Thank you so much for the prompt.