Disclaimer: I do not own the Underland Chronicles. I don't even own my own copy of CoC. I am poor, so don't sue me, please. That wouldn't be ideal for you or I. You because you really wouldn't get much, and me 'cause I would probably lose everything. Plus, I'm too young. :P
Summary: It's been eight years...
Habeas Corpus
written by;; freeProphe
Gregor's hand is cupped around a photo, light cast from the hallway light reflecting off of the glassy surface. His fingers create dark shadows from where they block the light, giving the illusion of jail cell bars surrounding the two in the picture. One, a girl with sad, violet eyes and short silver hair, a small smile making her mouth tip. The other, a boy who looked strained, but happy, somewhat, and grim, and he was much darker-complected than the girl.
Their faces are close, what can be seen of their shoulders touch together. They do not appear to be afraid of this closeness, despite the young age that their faces spoke of.
Gregor's hand closes around the photo, and the glossy print crinkles in his hand. His face is blank, but his eyes are pained. Lost, even. His hand is clenched in a fist around the image of the two children, and he sighs.
The crumbled photo is dropped in the bottom of a waste paper basket, dropping it further away from the light. Gregor closes his eyes and tries to control his breathing. The tears still build, burning the back of his eyes. Still.
It is time to let go.
-.-.-
Luxa's eyes are trained ahead of her, and her mouth is drawn in a straight line. Silence reigns. Finally, Luxa's lips part, and in a strong voice she commands, "Attack." There is no emphasis on the word; it is unemotional, detached. Luxa's hand sweeps out, signaling the archers. Arrow fly past her still form.
"Aurora," the queen says lowly. Wings begin to move, not to keep one afloat but to move. They make quick progress through the air. They are the perfect pair. In sync. Almost as if they are one, and not two.
Rats are gathered below, hissing and screaming angry curses at the Regalians. Luxa's face hardens. She was born for this. Her existence is for her people.
Without a word between them, they are shooting down towards the group below them. From the distance, the only thing to be seen is a golden blur.
And then Luxa jumps from the back of her bond, and into the claws and teeth of thousands of rats.
It is time to forget.
-.-.-
Ripred is pacing, his old aching paws carrying from one side of the cave to the other shakily. His eyes are closed, and he is weary. His head is bowed slightly, and his nose is nearly brushing the floor. Every breath seems to be an effort, and his front paws scratch at the ground in agitation.
His heart beats wildly in his chest, unsteadily, and his blood feels thick as it passes through his body. The darkness, which so long ago would not have mattered with echolocation, was pressing at him from the edges of the cavern. He could not see much anymore. He was not good for anything now.
The old gnawers' form begins to tremble, and for a moment he is unable to remember where he is, who he is, what he is. And he sees himself, young, foolish, once again. With his pups.
It is time to remember.
-.-.-
Howard's hands are bloody, and his fingers move to remove the shirt from his patient. He is losing blood quickly, and the flow needs to be staunched. His eyes are determined. Beads of sweat trail down his face, but he makes no move to wipe them away. They go unnoticed by him. His attention is on his patient.
More red fluid coats his skin, his white sleeves. He isn't wearing the gloves that are insisted upon.
He feels as though he has been in this situation before, a panicked state in which he did all he could to save a single life. The memory is too vague to determine.
The body underneath his hands trembles once, twice, and goes still. Howard's head droops.
It is time to hold on.
Edit: FFN deleted all of my line breaks -_- So I found new pretty things for that :D