[Fic] The seasons
Sep. 8th, 2010 09:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fairieloreTitle: The seasons
Pairing: Beckett/Navy Boys
Rating: PG
Prompt: Seasons
Spring
They line up, fresh like the spring breeze, waving to their beloved family members and making sure that their posture is straight as their Captain glances up and down at every single one of them, imprinting them in his memory.
Summer
By summer they are halfway to their destination and the summer's heat has created a maddening fever and the batch thins just by a little, the bestial howling in the night showing who will make it to see the reddening of the leaves, to see the blood of their comrades spilled.
Fall
Their first battle has come and gone, as has the second and the third. The red of their navy coats has darkened, the splotches of blood that can never wash out. They no longer wonder why their Lord wears a sea green jacket out in battle, while they don red. It is their job to soak up all the blood.
Winter
There is but a handful of them left, but still plenty to navigate the long trip home. Still, they feel that if all of them had perished Beckett would still be able to make it back to London, the harsh winds the only crew he needs. Why are they there, now that their apple red coats have become a dark burgundy? Perhaps the tribute of corpses is the ticket for a safe voyage home.
Spring
The fresh batch lines up and there are no familiar faces, no repeats. Whoever had made it back is either promoted, transferred to a desk position or does not return at all. The Lord looks each of them right in the eye as he passes through, as if gauging how many souls they are worth.
Pairing: Beckett/Navy Boys
Rating: PG
Prompt: Seasons
Spring
They line up, fresh like the spring breeze, waving to their beloved family members and making sure that their posture is straight as their Captain glances up and down at every single one of them, imprinting them in his memory.
Summer
By summer they are halfway to their destination and the summer's heat has created a maddening fever and the batch thins just by a little, the bestial howling in the night showing who will make it to see the reddening of the leaves, to see the blood of their comrades spilled.
Fall
Their first battle has come and gone, as has the second and the third. The red of their navy coats has darkened, the splotches of blood that can never wash out. They no longer wonder why their Lord wears a sea green jacket out in battle, while they don red. It is their job to soak up all the blood.
Winter
There is but a handful of them left, but still plenty to navigate the long trip home. Still, they feel that if all of them had perished Beckett would still be able to make it back to London, the harsh winds the only crew he needs. Why are they there, now that their apple red coats have become a dark burgundy? Perhaps the tribute of corpses is the ticket for a safe voyage home.
Spring
The fresh batch lines up and there are no familiar faces, no repeats. Whoever had made it back is either promoted, transferred to a desk position or does not return at all. The Lord looks each of them right in the eye as he passes through, as if gauging how many souls they are worth.
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Date: 2010-09-10 01:54 pm (UTC)