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Character Drabblets

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Spoiler Warning: The end of GoN and the very beginning of TLO.

 

I'm interested in hearing which one you liked best. (I know which one I like least... urgh. somehow the images in my head always look prettier there than on paper *pout*)

 

Others:

 

Talia

Galahad

 

 

 

Galahad (after the beginning of LOT, before the end of GON)

 

The problem was that once it was brought to his attention he couldn’t stop noticing it. It was everywhere. It was like the time someone had mentioned to him that the roads in Sedona were all named so that they had a prime number of vowels. He’d never noticed it before, had never even thought of it- and suddenly there it was. Every time he saw a road sign it popped into his head. He couldn’t help but count. It drove him crazy, until eventually he ended up knowing every road sign in Sedona by heart and finally it faded.

 

Every time he saw her it popped into his head, that stupid conversation he’d had in that stupid tavern that stupid night that she’d been captured. Every time. For 300 years he had never noticed a single good thing about her and suddenly they were everywhere he turned. Her courage. Her bizarre, inexplicable integrity. Her smile. Her legsandher hairand her voice… and the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn’t looking. And the way she kept guard quietly when all the others were asleep. Everywhere, every moment of the day, there they were- the things that made her special and incredible and the things that made him lo- li- not utterly hate her after all.

 

And he didn’t know what to do with this strange, bizarre new way of seeing her. It grew in his chest daily, this feeling of… this feeling of… He couldn’t keep his eyes off her, somehow. She had become something strange and new and it was all the more incredible, this feeling of wonder he kept having, because he kept trying to remember how it was that he had never seen it before. Something so obvious and blatant and…

 

It frustrated him, that he couldn’t express it. Somehow nothing had changed. There was a habit of 300 years firmly engraved between them, and they walked without thinking along the same lines they had always walked, relating to each other the same way they always had. But it wasn’t the same! There was nothing the same! It was completely different and it made him go mad with frustration, that no matter how he tried somehow all that came out of his mouth were the same exact things in the same exact tone as if it was the same exact world!

 

So he would wait. He would wait for the chance. Because someday, somehow, something was going to change. And when it did he would take it as his opportunity.

 

 

Te’ijal (After GoN)

 

She stared in the mirror and growled, but of course it came out all wrong. It sounded the same but different, too soft somehow.

 

Turning human had given her the biggest headache of her life. The world had gone dull and dim, the sparkling colors had faded to duller shades. She couldn’t see in the dark anymore. Her limbs had turned flaccid, weak. And worse… worse…

 

Galahad.

 

Being human made all her feelings- not stronger, merely closer. As a vampire she had felt with the same intensity but it was always at arms length. As a human it was right inside her, everything she felt would burn within her chest, so that it was hard to think clearly and…

 

She had waited centuries and when she’d found him, she’d made the decision. Not carefully, on an impulse, but with clear intent nonetheless. She had waited and she had found him and decided they could have forever together.

 

And now forever was gone.

 

And she was petrified.

 

Mel 1a (pre-LoT)

 

“Look, at that delicate face!” Lady Essa said, forcing Mel’s chin up. Her long, smooth fingers had nails painted in royal purple and they dug into Mel’s skin. “And she has a nice complexion… no? She can make a perfectly good slave, too,” she said, noting with hope the increase of interest in the visitor’s face. “She has the muscle- show the man your arm, honey,” she hissed.

 

“It looks a bit scrawny,” the man observed.

 

“Well,” Lady Essa said, “you know how it is, the cost of food and care is so very high… she can be easily fattened, though…” She trailed off.

 

“Surely you have some that are more… substantial?” The man said.

 

With a look of disgust, Lady Essa shoved Mel towards the guard. “Oh, take her away,” she moaned, “I can’t bear to see her anymore, the useless vermin.” She sighed. “Bring in one of the boys.”

 

 

Mel 1b (Pre-LoT)

 

The door shut with a dull thud, and she lay on the floor, covering herself with her small, torn sheet, her heart beating rapidly as she heard the lock click.

 

She waited a moment or two and then with a deep breath sat up.

 

The cell was cold and dark and filthy, identical in size and form to all the other orphans’ rooms. And like all the other rooms, it was infested with rats. But she had learned not to mind that… No, she’d come to wish her room had more rats.

 

But that was not her concern, tonight. She could ignore her stomach. There were far more important things to take care of, right now.

 

And she could not help but smile, as she pulled the small hidden file out from behind a loose stone in the corner of her room.

 

It had taken her three weeks to get to this point. But tonight, without a doubt, was the night.

 

She held it in both hands, abandoning the safety measure of the previous nights, when she had awkwardly tried to wrap it in her sheet to prevent it leaving tell-tale cuts on her hands- what did she care about the cuts? A little bit of blood was a small price to pay, for freedom. There was a bare millimeter left to file away from the bars on the window. She had reached around and filed from the outside, so it would not be visible. And now…

 

As she raced to finish, rubbing the file back and forth in a frenzy, she couldn’t even feel the pain in her hands. It was pounding through her blood, a single syllable, over and over.

 

Free, free, free, free…

 

And when morning shone through the barless window of the miserable room that had been her only home for years, she was long, long gone.

 

Stella (Sometime in the middle of LoT or GoN)

 

Mel was moaning half-conscious on the ground as Stella busily bandaged her up.

 

“Is she… okay?”

 

“Edward!” Stella said, feeling her face heat up. “I- um. She should be fine. We’ll give her some meat… and bread… it’ll be fine. Shouldn’t take more than a few minutes for it to heal.”

 

“Oh,” he said. “Oh, good.”

 

And he smiled at her and she felt her heart break, for the thousandth time.

 

It was such a gorgeous smile. And it was entirely not for her.

 

But she… could be happy for Mel. And for Edward. Because she wanted her friends to be happy, because her friends happiness would make her happy as well.

 

There was no point in being jealous, after all, that she wouldn’t be able to be the direct source of happiness herself.

 

And that night for some reason she dreamed that she was flying. It didn’t feel like a dream, it felt real all the way down to the strain in muscles she was pretty sure she did not have. But it left her with a dull, dull ache in her throat when she woke up.

 

Lydia (Very beginning of/Right before TLO)

 

The dress was silk and chiffon and, naturally, it looked stunning on her. She twirled in front of the mirror, admiring the swirl of the skirts.

 

It was black, with embroidery in soft green and gold, and it brought out the shine in her hair. It was her absolutely favorite dress… along with the red ballgown… and the blue silk china dress… and the cocktail gown… and the lavender dress…

 

Oh well. She wouldn’t get to wear any of them, she thought, stripping carefully out of the gown.

 

No, it would have to be this tacky thing. She looked at it, draped across a chair, with undisguised distaste.

 

Thank the goddess she had disposed of the street brat before she’d had the chance to put it on, getting this off of the girl would have been almost more irritation than this was worth.

 

Well, no, actually not. This was, after all, her dream.

 

She slipped the dress on, tugging a bit, her head lost for a moment in soft silk so that all the world was white and white and white-

 

“There is no such thing as love,” her mother had said, when Lydia was four. She had tripped and scraped her knee and begun to cry, and her mother had stood there and watched her, waiting until Lydia got up herself and tearfully ordered a servant to bring her a bandage. Her mother had favored her with a rare smile, when she’d seen that, and then she’d said- “There is only power, Lydia. Do you understand?”

 

She did. She pulled the bow tight around her waist, refusing to be irritated that the street rat’s waist was slimmer than her own. Enormous, and purple- really, who had designed this dress? When she was queen, she would have them beheaded.

 

And when she was queen she would wear any dress she wanted.

 

When she thought of it like that, it was easy to smile with genuine joy as she said “I do”.

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Glee glee glee! Wow! I love these, Blurbie! I read them first yesterday morning at about 6, and here I am again rereading at 6. I can't think straight to really express my feelings about them, but I will! They stayed with me all day.

 

Glee!

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Talia

 

 

Saying goodbye to him was the strangest feeling she’d ever encountered.

 

Heartbreak? She wondered if that’s what you called it, when you said goodbye to your other half. There was something surreal about it.

 

But it was more an emptiness than a pain. She walked into the Dreamworld and she was empty, empty, empty.

 

And all it felt like was a dream.

 

---

 

No, heartbreak was something else entirely.

 

When Frederick collapsed at the entrance to the Dreamworld and she realized she could not save him.

 

When the oracle explained to her that she had failed.

 

Despair…

 

When she realized what she needed to do.

 

Heartbreak would be something like that moment when he heard about Aldrin- When he’d gone pale and collapsed, heavily, into a chair.

 

“I don’t understand, Talia,” he’d said.

 

But she’d made him understand.

 

She’d explained, carefully, gently.

 

The Sun Priests must be revived. And Aldrin was…

 

“I hate him,” Devin had said, vehemently. “I hate him,” he’d repeated, fists clenched, miserably.

 

She wanted to agree. But it wasn’t like she could afford to be picky. There were not exactly an unlimited amount of Sun Priests to choose from. If Aldrin had his flaws... If he had his flaws, they would have to be endured.

 

As long as she could bear it.

 

---

 

And when she couldn’t bear it anymore, she found she was alone.

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My take on what the heck happened between the end of AP and the beginning of Aveyond is rather dark and, I think, justified. Canonically Talia and Devin were together and split up, and the reason behind the split seems to have some relation to Talia becoming the Dreamer and her marriage to a Sun Priest whom she ultimately kills. The "ultimately kills" part is what particularly gives all my imaginings a darkish edge.

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This was a leftover from what was intended to be a much, much longer and rather dark Te'ijal/Galahad fic. Then my computer lkfdjgldkjg ate it (which was extremely depressing because I had several pages worth of it and it was very pretty.)

 

(my interpretation of Te'ijal's motives has since shifted- hello TLO- but technically this would still fit...)

 

Forever and a Day

 

Rhen forgot to assign him a seat far, far away from Te’ijal. He couldn’t truly fault the girl- she was well-meaning and kind and perhaps occupied in other things, what with this having been not only her wedding day but also something along the lines of a coronation for her, as she finally legitimately ascended the throne with Dameon at her side, but…

 

But.

 

“And do you, Rhen Pendragon, by the Goddess swear that…” the priest intoned.

 

“Wedding makes me so excited,” Te’ijal murmured, the comment made obscene by how she so shamelessly pressed herself against him as she said it, cool fingers lifted to brush against his jaw…

 

He jerked violently away, and the person standing beside him fell to the ground with a yelp. Around him, a disapproving buzz rose and fell, and what little blood was left in his system rushed angrily to his cheeks as he helped the man up.

 

Oh, if he could only think of a discreet way of abandoning the abominable creature!

 

He stood with a clear three inches of space delineating the boundaries between them. But Te’ijal had never been one to respect boundaries. Soon she was once again too close, far too close, like a disease…

 

He shuddered and inched away, bumping shoulders with same man he had just toppled. The man turned to shoot him a poisonous glare before returning his attention to the scene before them, where Rhen, face shining with happiness, was accepting a ring from Dameon.

 

And as she did, Te’ijal leaned against him, nuzzling against his neck.

 

A wave of nausea rolled over him. He could have vomited, right then and there at a royal wedding. But there was nothing left in his stomach, not even acid, and so he simply clenched his teeth against the convulsions of his body’s disgust and stared fixedly ahead, and for the rest of the ceremony that was how they remained, Te’ijal with her eyes half closed and her hand softly curled on his shoulder.

 

---

 

So the first time he ran away was immediately after the wedding. At the time he felt a rush of adrenaline, excitement, joy at the opening presented to him when Te’ijal left his side to congratulate the new couple.

 

Only in retrospect would he realize the meaning behind the sideways glance she had given him as she’d walked away, that all along she’d known his intention. In retrospect it was so painfully obvious he couldn’t comprehend how he’d imagined otherwise.

 

But imagine thus he clearly had, because he remembered taking extra pains to slip quietly, inconspicuously out of the hall, so much more lightly and gracefully than he could have managed when he was human.

 

With his first step out of the hall he realized the fatal, fatal flaw in his plan, as a girl walked by in pink lace dress and the wind caught the scent of her and brought it straight to him.

 

He pulled back into the stale air of the hall and felt his dead heart pounding furiously against his rib cage. Slowly, his hand went to his mouth. His fangs had extended themselves to full size, but the pain of it, the pain of their first eruption from his gums, was nothing, nothing compared to the hunger.

 

There were no words for this pain. If pressed he might have said it was like dying, over and over over. Oh, god, every pleasure in the world paled in comparison with the mere thought of having it end, every good thing was some pale fake shadow, a meaningless, empty lie. The joy he had envied Rhen for mere moments before was like a joke, a fleeting pointless thing.

 

He realized then and there that he had lost. It was all he could do to sink to his knees, rather than go chasing after the girl and break her like he knew it would be so easy to do. Right now the entrance to the Hall was empty, but only for so many minutes, and whoever it was that next came by would not survive, could not possibly survive because there was no chance, there was nothing left right now that would prevent him from ripping their throat out and sucking them dry, not as the last fleeting bits of his identity were washed away in the flood of this feeling, the last remnants of his self-control…

 

How laughable, how naïve of him to have somehow thought he could resist this. There was no resistance left, and when the sound of footsteps came he was already kneeling no longer in shock but in readiness, every muscle tensed to pounce-

 

And the double-doors opened wide to his wife, stalking forward towards him.

 

“I was wondering where you wandered off to, dumpling,” she said.

 

He stared at her. Slowly, he swallowed down the saliva that had pooled in his throat.

 

She offered him a hand.

 

“Get away from me, demonspawn,” he hissed. He scrambled backwards and groped blindly for the wall, to pull himself up.

 

 

 

 

And the only other fragment I have left (*thinks of the snow scene and the tree scene* TT____TT):

 

 

 

Vampires didn’t need sleep as humans did.

 

But at first he slept anyway, partially to make a point, partially because he found that he was exhausted, more than he had ever been as a human. It was so easy, he found, to drift off for hours in dead sleeps from which he woke feeling no more refreshed than when he had laid down. And if it bothered him, that as he rested Te’ijal was still awake, watching him… He would ignore it. Because there was no harm left for her to do to him, anyway. No crueler hell she could drag him to, than the one he was in already.

 

Stubbornly he slept at night, although energy coursed through his veins and kept his sleep fitful and easily disturbed, and then stumbled blearily through the too-bright day.

 

His vision was far weaker than any of his other senses, and yet still the world had grown too vivid after his Turning, full of details he had never- could have never- noticed as a human. It left a burning feeling in his skull, the world all turned to bright little points of motion. At night, in contrast, his thoughts ran smooth and clear, and vision was easy and painless.

 

Gradually he gave up on sleep, so that instead it was he who found himself staying awake, watching- or refusing to watch- as Te’ijal lightly dozed. Sleep had ceased to be refuge, had become a nightmare, as he woke from aching pleasurable dreams of warm, red liquid oozing from soft and delicate skin, woke in a haze of lax-limbed pleasure and agonizing guilt, that he could want so badly something that was so…

 

Nauseating, he forced himself to think of it as. Delicious, went the incessant murmur inside his head.

 

 

 

(for the record in this fic there was a fairly clear explanation of why it is not always this ridiculously hard for Galahad to resist humans. Hint: It involved Te'ijal.

 

My general interpretation, not in this fic but elsewhere, is that it is not such an overwhelming need. It's like starving yourself for 300 years... Only even if by vampire standards he's weak due to the starvation he still feels much better than a human would under such conditions)

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I think that this is very good insight into Galahad the man. In so many ways he projects himself as a flat boring one dimensional guy, but it is because he is so determined to hide this passion that he keeps bottled up. He feels such strong passion that it embarasses him and Galahad does not like to be embarassed.

 

Good one!

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Yeah Forever and A Day fragment was good! :D It really does show Galahad and heh I wished he had vomited! XD XD XD :goodjob:

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