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rhienellethFrom the fic that is currently consuming me. It's Charmed, as I've said, set in the alternate future Chris originally comes back in time from. Spoilers for Chris-Crossed. Rating for this section, anyway, is about comparable to the show itself.
I have no idea how long this thing is going to get. I'm debating posting "chapters", which I am usually loathe to do and have only done for one other fic, ever, or designing it as a series, similar to my Alias work. Because it sure as heck isn't going to fit in a one-shot >10K word story.
Author's note: *The title I've given Wyatt, the "Witch King" is in no way a reference to LOTR. It was just appropriate, given his position in this AU, and what he is.*
I don't have a working title so we'll just call this 1,000 word snippet
***
It wouldn’t be a normal day without some sort of bad news. Wyatt instituting some new law against witchcraft; one of his neighbors falling victim to demons; his cousins voluntarily allowing their powers to be bound.
His mother dying.
Still, this was the first time since that terrible day that a demon had actually tried to kill him. Like it or not, he was the Witch King’s brother; usually that was enough to protect him.
A table and three chairs broke his fall as the most powerful of the three demons flung Chris across the room. He landed hard, the breath driven from him, his vision studded with stars. He coughed and gasped, trying to suck air into his abused lungs. His left side flared with white hot pain. At least one rib broken, he thought grimly. I guess being Wyatt’s brother isn’t enough to shield me anymore.
He’d known this day would come.
“You’re not…the only ones…with telekinesis,” he managed between shallow breaths.
Resolutely, he sat up among the wreckage, hand pressed to his side. Two of the demons conjured energy balls, clearly intending to finish him. Chris lifted a hand and gestured, flinging them across the room as easily as they had him. One of them went through a window, showering that side of the room in broken glass. Before the third could respond, he orbed into the kitchen, beside the cupboard with his cache of potions. He scooped up three or four vials at random, hoping one might be powerful enough to vanquish them.
He saw the air ripple as someone shimmered into the room, and drew his arm back to throw. When the figure materialized into a woman he’d never seen before in his life, he hesitated for a fraction of an instant.
“Get down!”
Her warning came almost too late; Chris ducked instinctively just as an energy ball smashed into his cupboards, raining glass and wood down on his head. She conjured one of her own and flung it back at the demon in the doorway, and he exploded in a shower of flame and ash.
Two more figures shimmered in, one of them directly behind her, pinning her arms to her sides. Chris lifted his hand, intending to use his telekinesis to knock the demon away. He needn’t have bothered. She suddenly had a knife in her hand. She drove it back into the demon’s abdomen just as the second demon threw an arc of flame at her head. She shimmered away, and the flame struck the demon she’d stabbed instead, instantly immolating him.
The last demon was looking around almost frantically, Chris apparently forgotten. The air shimmered behind him, and there she was again. She drove her hand into his back, and blue light engulfed her arm as the demon screamed and arched in agony. What the hell is she doing to him? Chris clutched the potions tighter in his grip, wondering if he still needed them. Against his mysterious savior, whoever she was.
The blue light faded and vanished, and the demon fell to his knees, breathing raggedly, his face pale and covered in a sheen of sweat. The woman conjured another energy ball and used it to vanquish him, but it seemed anticlimactic to Chris. Like an afterthought to whatever she’d done to him.
She banished her knife and frowned across the kitchen at him.
“Are you all right?”
“What?” he asked, still dazed.
She started across the room toward him and he took an involuntary step back, potion raised to throw. She stopped, irritation flickering across her face. She was young, as young as he was, maybe. Twenty, no older than twenty-five, surely, with straight dark hair that framed a strong, beautiful face. She was wearing black leather and carried no visible weapons, not that she appeared to need them.
“Who are you?” he asked warily. She put her hands on her hips, eyes narrowing with impatience.
“I’m a witch, just like you. And lucky for you, I’ve been hunting that group of demons for some time. Looks like I got here just in time to save your excellent ass from becoming their next sacrifice.”
Chris blinked. Excellent ass?
“You’re a witch,” he repeated instead, infusing his voice with skepticism.
“That’s right.”
“But you used demonic powers. Energy balls and…” His breath hissed through his teeth as pain stabbed his side again. Stupid ribs. “…and shimmering.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “So?”
“So, who’s to say you aren’t another demon here to kill me?”
She rolled her eyes, clearly disgusted with his mistrust of her.
“If I was here to kill you, why would I have bothered saving you? Look, I’m not the first witch to use demonic powers, and I won’t be the last. You’re part whitelighter, right? So use your abilities to try and sense me. If I’m really a witch, it should work.”
She was right. He narrowed his eyes and concentrated, opening up that part of himself meant to listen for his charges. He hadn’t used it in so long, he wasn’t sure he still could. To his surprise, it didn’t take long. There she was, a bright, glowing presence in his mind. A witch, and a powerful one.
“Ok,” he gasped, leaning against the counter as pain stabbed his side again. “So, you’re a witch.”
She was beside him in an instant, her hands pushing his away so her fingers could poke around his abused ribs.
“Ouch!” he protested, glaring at her. Lips pursed, she looked up at him.
“Your ribs are cracked,” she said unnecessarily. “At least three of them.”
“Like that’s a newsflash,” he muttered.
***
I have no idea how long this thing is going to get. I'm debating posting "chapters", which I am usually loathe to do and have only done for one other fic, ever, or designing it as a series, similar to my Alias work. Because it sure as heck isn't going to fit in a one-shot >10K word story.
Author's note: *The title I've given Wyatt, the "Witch King" is in no way a reference to LOTR. It was just appropriate, given his position in this AU, and what he is.*
I don't have a working title so we'll just call this 1,000 word snippet
***
It wouldn’t be a normal day without some sort of bad news. Wyatt instituting some new law against witchcraft; one of his neighbors falling victim to demons; his cousins voluntarily allowing their powers to be bound.
His mother dying.
Still, this was the first time since that terrible day that a demon had actually tried to kill him. Like it or not, he was the Witch King’s brother; usually that was enough to protect him.
A table and three chairs broke his fall as the most powerful of the three demons flung Chris across the room. He landed hard, the breath driven from him, his vision studded with stars. He coughed and gasped, trying to suck air into his abused lungs. His left side flared with white hot pain. At least one rib broken, he thought grimly. I guess being Wyatt’s brother isn’t enough to shield me anymore.
He’d known this day would come.
“You’re not…the only ones…with telekinesis,” he managed between shallow breaths.
Resolutely, he sat up among the wreckage, hand pressed to his side. Two of the demons conjured energy balls, clearly intending to finish him. Chris lifted a hand and gestured, flinging them across the room as easily as they had him. One of them went through a window, showering that side of the room in broken glass. Before the third could respond, he orbed into the kitchen, beside the cupboard with his cache of potions. He scooped up three or four vials at random, hoping one might be powerful enough to vanquish them.
He saw the air ripple as someone shimmered into the room, and drew his arm back to throw. When the figure materialized into a woman he’d never seen before in his life, he hesitated for a fraction of an instant.
“Get down!”
Her warning came almost too late; Chris ducked instinctively just as an energy ball smashed into his cupboards, raining glass and wood down on his head. She conjured one of her own and flung it back at the demon in the doorway, and he exploded in a shower of flame and ash.
Two more figures shimmered in, one of them directly behind her, pinning her arms to her sides. Chris lifted his hand, intending to use his telekinesis to knock the demon away. He needn’t have bothered. She suddenly had a knife in her hand. She drove it back into the demon’s abdomen just as the second demon threw an arc of flame at her head. She shimmered away, and the flame struck the demon she’d stabbed instead, instantly immolating him.
The last demon was looking around almost frantically, Chris apparently forgotten. The air shimmered behind him, and there she was again. She drove her hand into his back, and blue light engulfed her arm as the demon screamed and arched in agony. What the hell is she doing to him? Chris clutched the potions tighter in his grip, wondering if he still needed them. Against his mysterious savior, whoever she was.
The blue light faded and vanished, and the demon fell to his knees, breathing raggedly, his face pale and covered in a sheen of sweat. The woman conjured another energy ball and used it to vanquish him, but it seemed anticlimactic to Chris. Like an afterthought to whatever she’d done to him.
She banished her knife and frowned across the kitchen at him.
“Are you all right?”
“What?” he asked, still dazed.
She started across the room toward him and he took an involuntary step back, potion raised to throw. She stopped, irritation flickering across her face. She was young, as young as he was, maybe. Twenty, no older than twenty-five, surely, with straight dark hair that framed a strong, beautiful face. She was wearing black leather and carried no visible weapons, not that she appeared to need them.
“Who are you?” he asked warily. She put her hands on her hips, eyes narrowing with impatience.
“I’m a witch, just like you. And lucky for you, I’ve been hunting that group of demons for some time. Looks like I got here just in time to save your excellent ass from becoming their next sacrifice.”
Chris blinked. Excellent ass?
“You’re a witch,” he repeated instead, infusing his voice with skepticism.
“That’s right.”
“But you used demonic powers. Energy balls and…” His breath hissed through his teeth as pain stabbed his side again. Stupid ribs. “…and shimmering.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “So?”
“So, who’s to say you aren’t another demon here to kill me?”
She rolled her eyes, clearly disgusted with his mistrust of her.
“If I was here to kill you, why would I have bothered saving you? Look, I’m not the first witch to use demonic powers, and I won’t be the last. You’re part whitelighter, right? So use your abilities to try and sense me. If I’m really a witch, it should work.”
She was right. He narrowed his eyes and concentrated, opening up that part of himself meant to listen for his charges. He hadn’t used it in so long, he wasn’t sure he still could. To his surprise, it didn’t take long. There she was, a bright, glowing presence in his mind. A witch, and a powerful one.
“Ok,” he gasped, leaning against the counter as pain stabbed his side again. “So, you’re a witch.”
She was beside him in an instant, her hands pushing his away so her fingers could poke around his abused ribs.
“Ouch!” he protested, glaring at her. Lips pursed, she looked up at him.
“Your ribs are cracked,” she said unnecessarily. “At least three of them.”
“Like that’s a newsflash,” he muttered.
***
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no subject
Date: 2006-02-11 04:24 am (UTC)Not that I know diddly about the Charmed universe, but still good.
Loves
no subject
Date: 2006-02-11 05:53 am (UTC)Hmm, if you decide to read the rest of it when I eventually post, I'd be very interested in your opinion as an uninitiated reader.
no subject
Date: 2006-02-11 05:20 pm (UTC)Suddenly I'm reading fan-fic! LOL Another friend who's just started writing is having me read a fan-fic piece she's done, that I haven't seen. I'm every body's blind reader. I guess I need to watch more TV.
As for Alias vs Charmed plausibility, all I have to say is, Zombies?
Loves