pospreterito: black silhouette with white fire in one hand, green background ({stories} ..bracketverse arcturus)
[ pos.pɾe'te.ɾi.to ] ([personal profile] pospreterito) wrote in [community profile] copreterito2012-04-06 03:30 pm

{bracketverse, 31_days} they won't be stopped

Title: they won’t be stopped
Rating: PG (is necromancy child-safe?)
Wordcount: 429
Story / World: bracketverse
Challenge: [livejournal.com profile] 31_days: January 07 2012, maybe in our circle, square pieces never fit
Other: Shortly before gold light.
Characters: Arcturus, January Salt, Cosma Noline.
Notes: Bird is the word but the bird is not a recurring character. (Arcturus has terrible luck with birds! Arcturus has terrible luck, full stop.)


christians and killers, they won't be stopped until
ambulance dancehall is burning on the hill

A spark and a simple command are enough; a little luck, a little stern cajoling, minor troubleshooting. He's done worse, he breathed life back into a dog that had been run over by a car that one time by the grace of his own scarred-stupid hands, but it's always best to show off with something you know that will work.

Arcturus repositions his hands a bit, a nudge, and the formerly dead chalk-white dove obligingly twitches a wing and then freezes, like its tiny brain is good enough to realise how impossible that ought to be. Who knows if it is. Arcturus isn't the dove whisperer or whatnot, anyway.

Cosma's gone straight-backed and still, could pass for military. January, by contrast, is leaning over, one hand absentmindedly on Arcturus' own shoulder, grinning such that he feels like he ought to return the expression. She's never seemed to mind the teeth, actually, so he does give a smile his best try.

It is a resounding success. Or feels like it, anyway.

“How did you do that?” she all but burbles, running her fingers over plumage that matches them. “Seriously, what did you do? Are you secretly a Healer? Are we Healer bros and I never knew it?”

He swallows a laugh, which judging by that this is January was her only intention and the entirety of it. “Not, um, exactly.” How ridiculous would an actual confession sound, cut up by his teeth? In retrospect he never should've done this, he thinks, but.

On the one hand he's endangered himself. On the other hand...

January's smiling a lot, is the other hand. It's a disconcertingly convincing argument. Arcturus thinks he's going to have to go over what constitutes a logical thought process again so that he can have neatly labelled diagrams explaining why this is not it.

“Yeah,” Cosma says, hands hanging nonchalant over her folded knees, staring unblinking at him with the red eyes she just showed up with the other day. “How'd you do that, Arcturus?”

“Um,” he says, intelligently. (It comes to his mind that he is the oldest person in the room. Both the girls are taller than him, though. Is that where the thin veneer of 'responsible adult' and 'capable of some degree of forethought' came from, the height? Where can he get one to match.)

Cosma sighs and plucks their now-uncomfortable-seeming dove out from his and January's hands. “We're going to have to get rid of you,” she tells it, nose to still-docile beak, but she's still actually looking at Arcturus.

His fingertips feel cold.

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