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For
spiralsheep, who requested (among other things) "Zhaan (Farscape) meeting Jabe (Doctor Who s1) would be interesting." ~800 words. Sorry for taking the crack crossover request and going serious, but this is what came out...
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Wood smoke and ash curled up from the forest below. It permeated everything, suffusing into Jabe's canopy, graying her leaves, and for the first time in her life, she felt old. Old enough to put down roots, to surrendur to sun and cycle with her remaining kin.
She looked up at the haze in the sky. Today was an ill day to fall into earthsleep, and despite the creak in her joints, she knew her rings could yet stand some centuries.
"My Lady." Carsor said from behind her, and Jabe turned from the balcony. He and Thune stood tall in the chamber, flanking a trembling, sniveling blue thing. "The fugitive."
Delvian, Jabe realized. Female. She could tell as much even with the fugitive's tips-- fingers, toes, crown-- encased in cloying deathcloth. It was a necessary precaution, and still Thune and Carsor barely brushed her skin as they held her.
Jabe shuddered her boughs, signaling Carsor and Thune, who released the prisoner wordlessly. "What have you to say for yourself?" she asked, gaining full height and shade over the interloper.
The fugitive fell to her knees, scanning the room with red, mad eyes even as she pleaded. "Sanctuary, I beg you, grant me sanctuary."
Delvians were a difficult breed. They needed such a balance in order to thrive. Jabe touched the woman's crown, fingers automatically seeking a connection, but they could not penetrate the slick, suffocating deathcloth. She did feel the pressure of sap and nutrients flowing under her skin, racing through life at weed pace. The woman was a rootless reed clinging to any bark in a storm, as it seemed with even the healthiest of the species.
"Please," the fugitive sobbed under her blind fingers. "Please, you have to help me."
Jabe tasted the woman's fear in the air, but all she could do was release her hold. "I cannot," she said.
This one was poison, as she had been told. The fauna who pursued her-- Peacekeepers, they had called themselves, though the guardians of Cheem had not deemed to let them break landfall-- these pursuers had told her as much, but Jabe needed to see for herself. Even with all the damage done, she did not trust the descendants of axe-wielders.
The fugitive fell crown to ground, sobbing silently. Jabe flexed the fibers in her fingers, motioning the guard and turning toward the balcony again.
"My Lady!" Carsor cried, and Jabe turned back to see a growl of rage take hold in the fugitive. Despite the careful guard, the Delvian leaped at Jabe with a screaming fury of limbs and timbre.
"Stop!" Jabe took the words from the earth, letting old strength and power flow from root to tip. She clamped a hand on the woman's crown around her cheek and nose. As roots move mountains she thrust the woman toward the balcony, forcing those eyes to focus on her beloved forest. She stripped the crown of its slick plastic prison, heedless of the taint that leeched into her fingers. The Delvian gagged under the assault, but Jabe held fast.
"Do you taste that?" she said.
The woman's eyes rolled like a wild fauna, and she spat curse after curse at her captor. Jabe ignored it, holding her crown against the balcony's bark. This was an ancient tree, it would swallow the woman's taint with little more than a drop of mal-sap. Unlike her brethren below. "Do you taste it?" she growled again.
"Yes!" The woman screamed, stilled, eyes almost blue for a moment.
"That is your doing." Jabe said. "You see your trail?"
"Yes," the fugitive sneered. Tears spilled down her cheeks as the madness held.
Jabe released her, hurling her back toward Carsor and Thune, who replaced the deathcloth roughly on her head.
"You poison everything you touch, youngling. The ground at your feet is dead, and we had to burn the trees around your path to stave off the spread."
The woman screamed in despair, but the trees did not release her.
"That is my soil," Jabe said. "Those were my kin. You may find salvage yet, but you're only good for axe-wielders as you are. I will not help you."
She motioned the guards and shook the taint off her boughs as the prisoner was led away. Briefly, she let her roots ache for her kin, for the acres of senseless loss below, before releasing her grief back into the ground with a sigh. Today, the forest of Cheem reeked of death. Tomorrow it would renew, as always.
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Wood smoke and ash curled up from the forest below. It permeated everything, suffusing into Jabe's canopy, graying her leaves, and for the first time in her life, she felt old. Old enough to put down roots, to surrendur to sun and cycle with her remaining kin.
She looked up at the haze in the sky. Today was an ill day to fall into earthsleep, and despite the creak in her joints, she knew her rings could yet stand some centuries.
"My Lady." Carsor said from behind her, and Jabe turned from the balcony. He and Thune stood tall in the chamber, flanking a trembling, sniveling blue thing. "The fugitive."
Delvian, Jabe realized. Female. She could tell as much even with the fugitive's tips-- fingers, toes, crown-- encased in cloying deathcloth. It was a necessary precaution, and still Thune and Carsor barely brushed her skin as they held her.
Jabe shuddered her boughs, signaling Carsor and Thune, who released the prisoner wordlessly. "What have you to say for yourself?" she asked, gaining full height and shade over the interloper.
The fugitive fell to her knees, scanning the room with red, mad eyes even as she pleaded. "Sanctuary, I beg you, grant me sanctuary."
Delvians were a difficult breed. They needed such a balance in order to thrive. Jabe touched the woman's crown, fingers automatically seeking a connection, but they could not penetrate the slick, suffocating deathcloth. She did feel the pressure of sap and nutrients flowing under her skin, racing through life at weed pace. The woman was a rootless reed clinging to any bark in a storm, as it seemed with even the healthiest of the species.
"Please," the fugitive sobbed under her blind fingers. "Please, you have to help me."
Jabe tasted the woman's fear in the air, but all she could do was release her hold. "I cannot," she said.
This one was poison, as she had been told. The fauna who pursued her-- Peacekeepers, they had called themselves, though the guardians of Cheem had not deemed to let them break landfall-- these pursuers had told her as much, but Jabe needed to see for herself. Even with all the damage done, she did not trust the descendants of axe-wielders.
The fugitive fell crown to ground, sobbing silently. Jabe flexed the fibers in her fingers, motioning the guard and turning toward the balcony again.
"My Lady!" Carsor cried, and Jabe turned back to see a growl of rage take hold in the fugitive. Despite the careful guard, the Delvian leaped at Jabe with a screaming fury of limbs and timbre.
"Stop!" Jabe took the words from the earth, letting old strength and power flow from root to tip. She clamped a hand on the woman's crown around her cheek and nose. As roots move mountains she thrust the woman toward the balcony, forcing those eyes to focus on her beloved forest. She stripped the crown of its slick plastic prison, heedless of the taint that leeched into her fingers. The Delvian gagged under the assault, but Jabe held fast.
"Do you taste that?" she said.
The woman's eyes rolled like a wild fauna, and she spat curse after curse at her captor. Jabe ignored it, holding her crown against the balcony's bark. This was an ancient tree, it would swallow the woman's taint with little more than a drop of mal-sap. Unlike her brethren below. "Do you taste it?" she growled again.
"Yes!" The woman screamed, stilled, eyes almost blue for a moment.
"That is your doing." Jabe said. "You see your trail?"
"Yes," the fugitive sneered. Tears spilled down her cheeks as the madness held.
Jabe released her, hurling her back toward Carsor and Thune, who replaced the deathcloth roughly on her head.
"You poison everything you touch, youngling. The ground at your feet is dead, and we had to burn the trees around your path to stave off the spread."
The woman screamed in despair, but the trees did not release her.
"That is my soil," Jabe said. "Those were my kin. You may find salvage yet, but you're only good for axe-wielders as you are. I will not help you."
She motioned the guards and shook the taint off her boughs as the prisoner was led away. Briefly, she let her roots ache for her kin, for the acres of senseless loss below, before releasing her grief back into the ground with a sigh. Today, the forest of Cheem reeked of death. Tomorrow it would renew, as always.
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no subject
Date: 2008-01-21 07:56 pm (UTC)That's sad but good. I especially like this use of the idea of shade as a tree would think of it: "gaining full height and shade over the interloper."
Thank you.
no subject
Date: 2008-01-22 12:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-21 09:00 pm (UTC)And I am unreasonably happy to no longer have what seemed to be the world's only Zhaan-and-Jabe fic. :)
no subject
Date: 2008-01-22 12:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-21 10:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-22 12:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-22 12:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-22 01:57 am (UTC)I love seeing people's different takes on Jabe - yours was geniusly tree-like.
no subject
Date: 2008-01-22 03:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-23 05:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-22 05:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-22 10:55 am (UTC)