KKM Drabbles.
May. 21st, 2007 12:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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drelfina.
The world dies one by one, and the brothers watch it go. Er, vague incest. That's really not vague at all. Right.
To Die a Little Faster
Yuuri dies some fifty-seven years after coming to the demon nation. He passes away in his sleep, gray-haired and tired, and the brothers carry his body to the temple, lay him to rest beneath the cold marble slabs.
"It's alright," Wolfram says fiercely, staring at Conrart. Conrart looks back, lines about his mouth and eyes.
"Yes," Conrart says tiredly, and he pulls at his hair slowly, holds his head in his hands. "It's alright, it's fine."
"Right," Wolfram says, voice still fierce, and he leans forward out of his chair, kisses Conrart with the same fierce force. "He was from there," Wolfram says as he pulls back, face pale. "He-- He was different, he had to die first."
"Of course," Conrart says. "He was only half a demon, like--"
"Conrart," Gwendal says sharply, standing behind Wolfram's chair, and Conrart's smile is small and empty.
"We're still alive," and Wolfram's leaning further up out of his chair, nearly crawling into Conrart's lap. "We're still here, still young, we're different." Wolfram's hands are cold, but his breath is hot, and Conrart lets himself be wrapped in Wolfram's arms, lets Wolfram kiss and suck and bite, dragging blood to the surface.
"Right," Conrart says, and Gwendal watches them, looking a little older every day.
x
Celi dies at near five hundred. She's followed in quick procession by her brother and Gunter, and then there's a short silence of life. Yozak goes next, gnarled hands and wizened body. Conrart's hair is streaked with white, Gwendal's is streaked with gray, and even Wolfram is beginning to look old, lines etching into his face.
"I," Conrart says, and the castle sounds strangely empty, as though they're the last three in the world, "am tired."
Wolfram's nearly as tall as Gwendal, and he leans over the back of Conrart's chair, resting his head against Conrart's shoulder. "You're not," Wolfram says, sounding childish, and Gwendal's watching them both, sitting stiffly in the far chair.
"Wolfram," Conrart begins, and Gwendal says, "Conrart." Wolfram's fingers dig into Conrart's faded uniform, holding tight.
"Mother," Wolfram says, and Conrart and Gwendal both fall silent. "I wonder," Wolfram says a moment later, "how long I'll be alone." Conrart catches Wolfram's hands, holds them tight, and Gwendal kisses Wolfram's mouth, leaning over Conrart.
x
Wolfram dies at a hundred and eighty-seven. He opens a window, takes off his jacket, and steps over the ledge. He's buried in the far gardens, near the southern wall, and Conrart leans against the nearest tree, feeling old and tired.
"It's," Gwendal says, but there's not much to say. Conrart tries to nod, sinks to the ground.
"It's alright," Conrart finally says, but Gwendal won't look at him. Conrart wonders if he'll be the last one left.
Wolfram and Gwendal have a quick chat, much to Gwendal's consternation. Implied Yuuri/Wolfram, m-preg.
Experience of Life
"I," Wolfram said stiffly, sitting on the edge of Gwendal's desk, "have to talk to you."
Gwendal looked up for a moment, then looked back down. "You're sitting on my papers, Wolfram."
"I'm pregnant," Wolfram plowed ahead, ignoring Gwendal's attempt to extract the papers beneath him. There was a moment of silence, then another rustle of paper as Gwendal yanked a couple crumpled papers from beneath Wolfram.
"And does His Majesty know?" Gwendal asked, frowning as he tried to straighten out the papers.
"Of course not!" Wolfram snapped, shifting on the desk. Gwendal winced at the sound of tearing paper. "Yuuri's an idiot, he doesn't think men can get pregnant."
"And yet," Gwendal said, marking down the papers as a lost cause, "he's our king, if rumors are to be believed. Wolfram, if you'd kindly remove yourself from my desk, I could finish some of this paper work, possibly before next week."
"Brother," Wolfram said, and he was leaning forward, wrapping his arms around himself, nearly pulling himself into a ball. Gwendal felt a headache coming on. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do."
Gwendal bit back a sigh, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. "Wolfram, how should I know? I've never been pregnant. Go--" He cast about his thoughts wildly. "Go ask Gunter. He'd know."
Wolfram's mouth formed a perfect little "o," and Gwendal felt a vague little sense of guilt.
"I forgot about that," Wolfram said, and he was sliding off Gwendal's desk. Gwendal shuddered at the sounds of several stacks of paper ripping, and forced a thin, shaky smile.
"You're welcome," he said faintly. The headache was definitely going to be a bad one.
Wolfram kissed his cheek then tripped from the room, musing aloud the best way to find Gunter. Gwendal watched him go silently, clutching his pen until it creaked between his fingers ominously.
Sometimes, Gwendal really hated newlyweds.
drelfina.The world dies one by one, and the brothers watch it go. Er, vague incest. That's really not vague at all. Right.
To Die a Little Faster
Yuuri dies some fifty-seven years after coming to the demon nation. He passes away in his sleep, gray-haired and tired, and the brothers carry his body to the temple, lay him to rest beneath the cold marble slabs.
"It's alright," Wolfram says fiercely, staring at Conrart. Conrart looks back, lines about his mouth and eyes.
"Yes," Conrart says tiredly, and he pulls at his hair slowly, holds his head in his hands. "It's alright, it's fine."
"Right," Wolfram says, voice still fierce, and he leans forward out of his chair, kisses Conrart with the same fierce force. "He was from there," Wolfram says as he pulls back, face pale. "He-- He was different, he had to die first."
"Of course," Conrart says. "He was only half a demon, like--"
"Conrart," Gwendal says sharply, standing behind Wolfram's chair, and Conrart's smile is small and empty.
"We're still alive," and Wolfram's leaning further up out of his chair, nearly crawling into Conrart's lap. "We're still here, still young, we're different." Wolfram's hands are cold, but his breath is hot, and Conrart lets himself be wrapped in Wolfram's arms, lets Wolfram kiss and suck and bite, dragging blood to the surface.
"Right," Conrart says, and Gwendal watches them, looking a little older every day.
x
Celi dies at near five hundred. She's followed in quick procession by her brother and Gunter, and then there's a short silence of life. Yozak goes next, gnarled hands and wizened body. Conrart's hair is streaked with white, Gwendal's is streaked with gray, and even Wolfram is beginning to look old, lines etching into his face.
"I," Conrart says, and the castle sounds strangely empty, as though they're the last three in the world, "am tired."
Wolfram's nearly as tall as Gwendal, and he leans over the back of Conrart's chair, resting his head against Conrart's shoulder. "You're not," Wolfram says, sounding childish, and Gwendal's watching them both, sitting stiffly in the far chair.
"Wolfram," Conrart begins, and Gwendal says, "Conrart." Wolfram's fingers dig into Conrart's faded uniform, holding tight.
"Mother," Wolfram says, and Conrart and Gwendal both fall silent. "I wonder," Wolfram says a moment later, "how long I'll be alone." Conrart catches Wolfram's hands, holds them tight, and Gwendal kisses Wolfram's mouth, leaning over Conrart.
x
Wolfram dies at a hundred and eighty-seven. He opens a window, takes off his jacket, and steps over the ledge. He's buried in the far gardens, near the southern wall, and Conrart leans against the nearest tree, feeling old and tired.
"It's," Gwendal says, but there's not much to say. Conrart tries to nod, sinks to the ground.
"It's alright," Conrart finally says, but Gwendal won't look at him. Conrart wonders if he'll be the last one left.
Wolfram and Gwendal have a quick chat, much to Gwendal's consternation. Implied Yuuri/Wolfram, m-preg.
Experience of Life
"I," Wolfram said stiffly, sitting on the edge of Gwendal's desk, "have to talk to you."
Gwendal looked up for a moment, then looked back down. "You're sitting on my papers, Wolfram."
"I'm pregnant," Wolfram plowed ahead, ignoring Gwendal's attempt to extract the papers beneath him. There was a moment of silence, then another rustle of paper as Gwendal yanked a couple crumpled papers from beneath Wolfram.
"And does His Majesty know?" Gwendal asked, frowning as he tried to straighten out the papers.
"Of course not!" Wolfram snapped, shifting on the desk. Gwendal winced at the sound of tearing paper. "Yuuri's an idiot, he doesn't think men can get pregnant."
"And yet," Gwendal said, marking down the papers as a lost cause, "he's our king, if rumors are to be believed. Wolfram, if you'd kindly remove yourself from my desk, I could finish some of this paper work, possibly before next week."
"Brother," Wolfram said, and he was leaning forward, wrapping his arms around himself, nearly pulling himself into a ball. Gwendal felt a headache coming on. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do."
Gwendal bit back a sigh, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. "Wolfram, how should I know? I've never been pregnant. Go--" He cast about his thoughts wildly. "Go ask Gunter. He'd know."
Wolfram's mouth formed a perfect little "o," and Gwendal felt a vague little sense of guilt.
"I forgot about that," Wolfram said, and he was sliding off Gwendal's desk. Gwendal shuddered at the sounds of several stacks of paper ripping, and forced a thin, shaky smile.
"You're welcome," he said faintly. The headache was definitely going to be a bad one.
Wolfram kissed his cheek then tripped from the room, musing aloud the best way to find Gunter. Gwendal watched him go silently, clutching his pen until it creaked between his fingers ominously.
Sometimes, Gwendal really hated newlyweds.
no subject
Date: 2009-03-14 12:21 am (UTC)