The Waters of Lethe
Aug. 27th, 2006 02:06 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
mettathron.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
onepieceyaoi100I'm kind of wary of this one; it either provides a strong ending or completely ruins the feel of the whole series, but I've got nothing else.
Title: Lethe
Word Count: 300
Topic: Exhaustion
Rating: PG-13 for language
Disclaimer: One Piece (c) Eiichiro Oda
Warning: The conclusion of flagitious English abuse, peppered with classical mythology abuse. Follows Relatvity and Gray.
Misery.
He was cold, wet, tired, and at that moment had absolutely no recollection of who he was or how he came to be sitting in that miserable state on the shore of what looked to be an underground river.
Waiting.
If he were the kind of person to indulge in self-pity, and he wasn’t entirely sure that he was not, he could have easily spent the rest of his existence sitting there on the shore, contemplating his wretched condition, except he knew that he was waiting for something, though the particulars of for what or whom or even why utterly escaped him.
Concentrate.
Memory granted him a few fleeting traces: a boat – too small, too quiet – a boatman –want a smoke, got a light— a river – that’s Lethe, don’t drink the water – a shout – you goddamn idiot – and a swim – which way, where’s the shore?
Focus.
He remembered blood –oh God, it hurts – a blade – don’t move, don’t move, don’t fucking move! – a back –never the back, never his back.
Oh.
The waters of Lethe sapped the heat from his blood, the strength from his bones, the breath from his lips, and almost managed to steal his memory of how he fell into their power in the first place.
Oh.
He couldn’t bring himself to drink, couldn’t bear to forget the feeling of his bloody lips on an unflinching back, because no matter how much it hurt, it was all he had left to hold in his empty, aching, exhausted arms.
Until.
Still dripping the primal black water from swimming the Styx, Zoro took Sanji’s precious hand in his own and brushed warm lips across cold knuckles, nudging him to stand and pulling him up and not even flinching as ghostly lips kissed his back.
Time to go home.
End
Title: Lethe
Word Count: 300
Topic: Exhaustion
Rating: PG-13 for language
Disclaimer: One Piece (c) Eiichiro Oda
Warning: The conclusion of flagitious English abuse, peppered with classical mythology abuse. Follows Relatvity and Gray.
Misery.
He was cold, wet, tired, and at that moment had absolutely no recollection of who he was or how he came to be sitting in that miserable state on the shore of what looked to be an underground river.
Waiting.
If he were the kind of person to indulge in self-pity, and he wasn’t entirely sure that he was not, he could have easily spent the rest of his existence sitting there on the shore, contemplating his wretched condition, except he knew that he was waiting for something, though the particulars of for what or whom or even why utterly escaped him.
Concentrate.
Memory granted him a few fleeting traces: a boat – too small, too quiet – a boatman –want a smoke, got a light— a river – that’s Lethe, don’t drink the water – a shout – you goddamn idiot – and a swim – which way, where’s the shore?
Focus.
He remembered blood –oh God, it hurts – a blade – don’t move, don’t move, don’t fucking move! – a back –never the back, never his back.
Oh.
The waters of Lethe sapped the heat from his blood, the strength from his bones, the breath from his lips, and almost managed to steal his memory of how he fell into their power in the first place.
Oh.
He couldn’t bring himself to drink, couldn’t bear to forget the feeling of his bloody lips on an unflinching back, because no matter how much it hurt, it was all he had left to hold in his empty, aching, exhausted arms.
Until.
Still dripping the primal black water from swimming the Styx, Zoro took Sanji’s precious hand in his own and brushed warm lips across cold knuckles, nudging him to stand and pulling him up and not even flinching as ghostly lips kissed his back.
Time to go home.
End
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no subject
Date: 2006-08-27 07:13 pm (UTC)This fic was dripping with angst and such good angst too. Ending was really heart-wretching.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-27 07:28 pm (UTC)oh also I am slow and I probably can't profit from the full beauty since I'm having slight trouble following. But only slight. ;)no subject
Date: 2006-08-27 07:37 pm (UTC)Guh. But "ghostly lips"... Waaai! I like anyway. Good ending. Very good.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-27 07:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-27 08:12 pm (UTC)"It was all he had left to hold in his empty, aching, exhausted arms" So sad, and then ZORO! And Sanji is no longer alone... I'm so glad you managed to tie this one up with a reunion. And when Sanji kissed his back before he died THERE WAS NO FLINCHING! That struck me so hard....
I think you managed to keep with the detached surreal feel of this series (though this one was slightly less detached, I'll admit) and still tie it all up well. Paint me impressed and pleased. ^^
no subject
Date: 2006-08-27 08:31 pm (UTC)The ending was perfect. Bittersweet, with a lot of things both promised and in question...
no subject
Date: 2006-08-28 03:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-09 12:10 am (UTC)Still dripping the primal black water from swimming the Styx, Zoro took Sanji’s precious hand in his own and brushed warm lips across cold knuckles, nudging him to stand and pulling him up and not even flinching as ghostly lips kissed his back.
Time to go home.
Whoa... powerful...