Nightfall (nightfallrising) wrote in slayers_etc,

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It's traditional to say 'I'm alive' after such a long break... that may or may not be the case. n,n;; Got a few old and new pieces I hope to workshop (on a brand new multifandom rp/ficcing com that I'd love to bring Slayfolks into, l_space at IJ), but we'll see if that goes anywhere.* In the meantime, this was prompted, and sometimes you just have to prod your own buttock and post.

Title: Everevolving
Pairing: In my head, this has at least a Zelas/Luna background, but you won't have to see it that way.
Rating: Worksafe
Genre: Gen
Type: snapshot/time-out fic

Xellos rotates his new shoulder in the also-new joint, getting the feel of it. This is how his life (if you choose to call it that) seems to go these days. You spend months preparing yourself to face off (face off, like a raw, green fool of a martyr) against one of the handful of beings more powerful than yourself (face off against, because no one else who would do it can) with nothing up your sleeve but a trick sparkler of an antihero and her bag of toys, save the world against all species instinct (because you were made for more than hunger), learn to feel the aching oppression of a falling barometer in fresh and exciting new ways.

It's not that he's getting too old for this. As mazoku go, he's in his prime. And a demon's gotta do what a demon's got to do (even if no one else but Zelas-sama and Luna-dono knows why). It's just that sometimes what a demon's gotta do bites scaly, gassy, unwiped, festering dragon tail and sucks hard.

And you can't put it off, because sometimes the immediate future presses so hard, so blazing-bright, there's no looking away from its gaping maw, not for more than a quick glance to maintain your peripherals. And that would be fine, just fine, except that, in those quick glances, you can see the cold storms gathering, watching your distraction, building up, making plans, using the unhampered time they've been blessed with and wasting none. And even that glance is almost more than you can spare.

It's a secret. It's a mystery. It's enough to make a guy wonder. Even the most faithful of priests.

Xellos rotates his new shoulder in the joint, casually presses a devout kiss into the flat rock tucked secret in his palm, and sends it skimming across the Sea until the waters close over it one last time.

Xellos kisses a hope and a prayer into the flat rock he's just formed from the sand, as diamond from coal, and sends it skimming across the Sea, watching the golden sunless godlight shimmer on dark waters.

* Offerers of help are even more covered in chocolate and gilded than givers of feedback. And you thought it couldn't be done!
x=posted from character journal
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