Torchwood drabbles: Spiral and Scream
Jun. 16th, 2008 04:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
littledoglaughedAuthor: ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rustydog
Characters: Myfanwy
Rating: G
Words: 100 x 2
Notes: The first drabble was written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
tw100 challenge "Life Before Torchwood"; the second is a sequel. Researching these was fun, though I now feel like I know disproportionately more about pterosaurs than the amount of fic I got out of it. :)
1. Spiral
Her life is a spiral of seasons, saturated with sensation and need. She knows the beat of her broad wings pushing the air, her beak skimming the water, a fish slipping down her throat. Nothing is harder than wood and bone. She buries her leathery eggs in mud, away from the sun and the little thieves who would make them a meal. Her children hatch, fly away; she returns to the endless bright circle of the sky, the air streaming along her body, lifting her to twist and dive, find her mate and take the next turn of the spiral.
2. Scream
The sun is a glaring disc above her, the earth a cool blue bowl below. She begins her descent, making circles half the size of the sky, each slightly lower than the next. The air presses against her body and the stretched skin of her wings, cradling her.
In one moment, the air becomes violent, tosses her, screams - or has it torn a scream from her? After the scream, suddenly and forevermore, the sky is square and dark. The earth is harder than bone, brighter than water. Her life is a fixed point; the spiral comes to a halt.
rustydogCharacters: Myfanwy
Rating: G
Words: 100 x 2
Notes: The first drabble was written for the
tw100 challenge "Life Before Torchwood"; the second is a sequel. Researching these was fun, though I now feel like I know disproportionately more about pterosaurs than the amount of fic I got out of it. :)1. Spiral
Her life is a spiral of seasons, saturated with sensation and need. She knows the beat of her broad wings pushing the air, her beak skimming the water, a fish slipping down her throat. Nothing is harder than wood and bone. She buries her leathery eggs in mud, away from the sun and the little thieves who would make them a meal. Her children hatch, fly away; she returns to the endless bright circle of the sky, the air streaming along her body, lifting her to twist and dive, find her mate and take the next turn of the spiral.
2. Scream
The sun is a glaring disc above her, the earth a cool blue bowl below. She begins her descent, making circles half the size of the sky, each slightly lower than the next. The air presses against her body and the stretched skin of her wings, cradling her.
In one moment, the air becomes violent, tosses her, screams - or has it torn a scream from her? After the scream, suddenly and forevermore, the sky is square and dark. The earth is harder than bone, brighter than water. Her life is a fixed point; the spiral comes to a halt.
