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onepieceyaoi100Title: Stones
Rating: K
Word Count: 300
Pairing: Marco/Ace
Topic: Sharp
Stones
The rough edges of a life at sea are strewn everywhere as far as the eye can see, as deep as touch can feel and as freely as the hollow wind in their ears.
He has seen more sea pyres than most and counted more headstones than all. Some on land, most at sea (unmarked, unnamed, unforgotten). He’s familiar with the cutting sting of loss. The loss of comrades and brothers.
The loss of family.
The jagged edges of his despair have long since worn away, thinning out into the flat surfaces of stones. Stones that he steps on to move ahead, before stopping and turning to pick up the pieces. He knows where each stone is (where each body lies) by instinct.
It is how he finds his way home.
Home feels every bit like a perfect sphere rattling with the sound of jagged, broken, shattered stone pieces sharpening their smooth edges against its insides. It sounds, to him, like a billion wind chimes over a crackling fire.
There’s calm before the storm, but they’re past that, Marco thinks. It is calm now, and smooth-sailing. The ceiling of his cabin has been cleared of scorch marks. They are replaced by numerous paper charms swaying in the breeze, weighed down by familiar red beads that do not belong there.
For remembrance, the nurses had said.
He’s found his smoothness now, all wind chimes in the breeze; but there no longer is a merrily crackling fire at its base to warm the smoothened curves or to burn away the remaining edges.
He douses the fire-place and turns away, waiting for this stone to smooth itself flat, and to stop gouging its punishing edge into his chest where he thinks his heart used to lie (still lies).
Once upon a time. (Ace.)
-
A/N: I believe this is positive evidence that I have moved past grieving for my favourite flame-boy and mourning over his loss, to trying to immortalise him in sappy, epic poetry-esque eulogies. D: How very sneaky of my sub-conscious. I apologise. >)
NOW, MAYBE. MAYBE, IF ODA WOULD KINDLY JUST BRING THE STRAWHATS BACK TOGETHER TO KICK SOMEMORE OTHER-PEOPLE-BUTT, I CAN MOVE ON WITH LESS DENIAL-WRESTLING. :D WHAT SAY HE? )<
Rating: K
Word Count: 300
Pairing: Marco/Ace
Topic: Sharp
Stones
The rough edges of a life at sea are strewn everywhere as far as the eye can see, as deep as touch can feel and as freely as the hollow wind in their ears.
He has seen more sea pyres than most and counted more headstones than all. Some on land, most at sea (unmarked, unnamed, unforgotten). He’s familiar with the cutting sting of loss. The loss of comrades and brothers.
The loss of family.
The jagged edges of his despair have long since worn away, thinning out into the flat surfaces of stones. Stones that he steps on to move ahead, before stopping and turning to pick up the pieces. He knows where each stone is (where each body lies) by instinct.
It is how he finds his way home.
Home feels every bit like a perfect sphere rattling with the sound of jagged, broken, shattered stone pieces sharpening their smooth edges against its insides. It sounds, to him, like a billion wind chimes over a crackling fire.
There’s calm before the storm, but they’re past that, Marco thinks. It is calm now, and smooth-sailing. The ceiling of his cabin has been cleared of scorch marks. They are replaced by numerous paper charms swaying in the breeze, weighed down by familiar red beads that do not belong there.
For remembrance, the nurses had said.
He’s found his smoothness now, all wind chimes in the breeze; but there no longer is a merrily crackling fire at its base to warm the smoothened curves or to burn away the remaining edges.
He douses the fire-place and turns away, waiting for this stone to smooth itself flat, and to stop gouging its punishing edge into his chest where he thinks his heart used to lie (still lies).
Once upon a time. (Ace.)
-
A/N: I believe this is positive evidence that I have moved past grieving for my favourite flame-boy and mourning over his loss, to trying to immortalise him in sappy, epic poetry-esque eulogies. D: How very sneaky of my sub-conscious. I apologise. >)
NOW, MAYBE. MAYBE, IF ODA WOULD KINDLY JUST BRING THE STRAWHATS BACK TOGETHER TO KICK SOMEMORE OTHER-PEOPLE-BUTT, I CAN MOVE ON WITH LESS DENIAL-WRESTLING. :D WHAT SAY HE? )<
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no subject
Date: 2010-05-01 11:14 am (UTC)♥ I'm kinda bummed, since the Marco/Ace fandom seems to be slowly and surely dying with Ace. THAT SHOULDN'T BE THE CASE. ): WE SHOULD BE TRYING TO KEEP HIS MEMORY ALIVE OR SOMETHING.
I'll just shut up. And maybe try to do something for the comm. =_=
Hey, thanks for dropping by a comment anyway. ♥ HEARTS~
no subject
Date: 2010-04-29 02:01 pm (UTC)Great job!
no subject
Date: 2010-05-01 11:20 am (UTC)