Ad Absurdum (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ad00absurdum) wrote2014-08-31 09:13 pm
ad00absurdum) wrote2014-08-31 09:13 pm
Entry tags:
Ficathon 14, day 3
A day late. Also, sorry for the increasingly weird warnings.
Title: White Feathers
Author: Ad Absurdum
Fandom: Whitechapel
Genre: Gen, Supernatural
Rating: PG
Timeline: well post-season 4
Warnings: Demon!Kent, pre-angel!Chandler, a bit of violence
Disclaimer: Characters - not mine. No profit made.
Summary: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
multifandom_pl Ficathon 14 for the following prompt: photos of the world after zombie virus. Particularly those two photos.
Chandler awoke with a start, his dream still vivid and causing his breath to come in short gasps. He rubbed his forehead and then pressed his palms to his eyes, seeing the images he couldn't understand behind the closed eyelids.
The apocalyptic abandoned landscape was disturbing enough, but it was the person he saw there, amidst the ruins, that truly frightened him.
At first he thought it was a statue - an angel perched on a crumbling wall, its eyes turned towards what was once a splendid, imposing building. Yes, maybe an odd place for a statue, but artists were a quirky lot. Maybe it was a metaphor.
Despite the desolate destruction around, the sculpture was intact - another odd thing. The body made out of marble was pale and naked and the wings were oddly grey and shimmering. It was metal, Chandler realised a moment later. The feathers impossibly delicate and sculpted with such attention to detail Chandler's breath caught in his throat at the hyperrealistic beauty of them.
And then the "statue" turned around, looked him right in the eye and Chandler stopped breathing at all. He should have realised marble statues didn't have dark hair.
"Kent?" Chandler somehow found the strength to finally ask.
He received a curious stare in response and then a slow smile which revealed... fangs.
Chandler shivered. He made a terrible mistake, this could never be Kent. There was something undeniably chilling in that smile, something truly evil. This was no angel, Chandler suddenly knew.
He wanted to run, but a hand shot out and grabbed his arm. The claws dug in, piercing his skin effortlessly, and the sleeve of Chandler's shirt was becoming stained with blood.
The demon with Kent's face pulled him closer, that horrifying smile still there.
"It's all your fault," he whispered to Chandler.
Chandler was too stunned to speak.
"You didn't care and so you didn't fight. Your loss."
The demon's other hand rose to Chandler's throat and as the fingers closed, squeezing and slowly cutting off his air, Chandler finally woke up.
His breathing evened out at last and he groaned softly as he felt his shoulder blades ache again. He turned onto his side, hoping to fall asleep and at the same time being utterly sure that he wouldn't be able to. Not this night.
The pain at his back lessened, but didn't go away completely. He was of course unaware, but soon there were going to be new bones there, new muscles and a mass of feathers - white and pure and true - the fighter waking up.
Title: White Feathers
Author: Ad Absurdum
Fandom: Whitechapel
Genre: Gen, Supernatural
Rating: PG
Timeline: well post-season 4
Warnings: Demon!Kent, pre-angel!Chandler, a bit of violence
Disclaimer: Characters - not mine. No profit made.
Summary: Written for
multifandom_pl Ficathon 14 for the following prompt: photos of the world after zombie virus. Particularly those two photos.
Chandler awoke with a start, his dream still vivid and causing his breath to come in short gasps. He rubbed his forehead and then pressed his palms to his eyes, seeing the images he couldn't understand behind the closed eyelids.
The apocalyptic abandoned landscape was disturbing enough, but it was the person he saw there, amidst the ruins, that truly frightened him.
At first he thought it was a statue - an angel perched on a crumbling wall, its eyes turned towards what was once a splendid, imposing building. Yes, maybe an odd place for a statue, but artists were a quirky lot. Maybe it was a metaphor.
Despite the desolate destruction around, the sculpture was intact - another odd thing. The body made out of marble was pale and naked and the wings were oddly grey and shimmering. It was metal, Chandler realised a moment later. The feathers impossibly delicate and sculpted with such attention to detail Chandler's breath caught in his throat at the hyperrealistic beauty of them.
And then the "statue" turned around, looked him right in the eye and Chandler stopped breathing at all. He should have realised marble statues didn't have dark hair.
"Kent?" Chandler somehow found the strength to finally ask.
He received a curious stare in response and then a slow smile which revealed... fangs.
Chandler shivered. He made a terrible mistake, this could never be Kent. There was something undeniably chilling in that smile, something truly evil. This was no angel, Chandler suddenly knew.
He wanted to run, but a hand shot out and grabbed his arm. The claws dug in, piercing his skin effortlessly, and the sleeve of Chandler's shirt was becoming stained with blood.
The demon with Kent's face pulled him closer, that horrifying smile still there.
"It's all your fault," he whispered to Chandler.
Chandler was too stunned to speak.
"You didn't care and so you didn't fight. Your loss."
The demon's other hand rose to Chandler's throat and as the fingers closed, squeezing and slowly cutting off his air, Chandler finally woke up.
His breathing evened out at last and he groaned softly as he felt his shoulder blades ache again. He turned onto his side, hoping to fall asleep and at the same time being utterly sure that he wouldn't be able to. Not this night.
The pain at his back lessened, but didn't go away completely. He was of course unaware, but soon there were going to be new bones there, new muscles and a mass of feathers - white and pure and true - the fighter waking up.