conditioning | of gratitude | tactics
Jan. 9th, 2012 09:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sidewaysGoing through old files, and found a number of short snippets from my great big Gundam 00 spree a few years back. Turns out I don't loathe them even now, so may as well share!
Title: Conditioning
Rating: PG
Series: Gundam 00 (Allelujah)
Wordcount: 136
Remarks: Takes place between seasons one and two.
He bit them once.
He didn’t know why—it was much more of a him thing to do. Maybe he just wanted to pick up the slack. They were asking again, though he’d stopped listening to the actual words a while ago, and he guessed they didn’t appreciate his lack of attention because there was a rough grip under his chin, jerking his head up. So he twisted, and they didn’t move fast enough. He’d never so much as glared at them before. It was too awkward a position to do much damage, and he thought maybe he'd missed altogether, but the coppersalt on his tongue said otherwise. He didn’t feel relieved afterwards, didn’t feel vindicated or satisfied or even eager for more. He just wanted to be left alone.
They kept him muzzled after that.
◘◘◘
Title: Of Gratitude
Rating: G
Series: Gundam 00 (Allelujah, Hallelujah)
Wordcount: 267
Remarks: Pre-series short, minorish spoiler for episode 5.
It had only been a quick run, executed with cautious haste, but his heart is still pounding in his chest. It is a struggle to stay attentive through the technical debriefing, words drowning in echoing thumps and hands that tremble in the remembrance of full-bodied vibration, and when he curls his fingers in to still them, the emptiness feels wrong.
Something must show despite it all, because the technician finishes his run-down with a gruff, "But hey, it was good, Haptism," and a sharp, awkward clap on the shoulder.
It’s enough to jolt him back, to realise there is attempted reassurance in those eyes, but by the time he says, “No, I’m not-” they are halfway down the corridor and the walls don’t care much for misunderstandings. He sighs, and the self-conscious wryness of his smile broadens into something more genuine as he turns his gaze to the glass window. The mobile suit sits quiet and still beyond it, betraying no hint of the power that had propelled it between asteroids only minutes before, skimming across space faster than mankind had believed - still believed - was possible.
"Kyrios," he murmurs, and each syllable holds a new weight to it, new respect for what this machine can do. "Gundam Kyrios."
His reflection cants its head, golden eye lit with the remnants of fierce delight and a brush of smugness, and the whisper of a chuckle floats in the air. "Glad to be alive?"
"Today I am." He shifts his gaze and says, “Today I am grateful," and almost laughs to see rare surprise mirrored back at him.
◘◘◘
Title: Tactics
Rating: G
Series: Gundam 00 (Meisters, Sumeragi)
Wordcount: 247
Remarks: Set sometime during season one; spoiler-free. Largely spurred by this one magazine entry mentioning an unexpected hobby of Allelujah's.
“You have one chance.” Sumeragi’s voice was uncommonly terse, emphasised by her sharp stab at a point on the board spread below them. “If you make it to this position you’ll be on defensible ground. We need that ground, Lockon.” She looked up, catching the gaze of the eldest Meister and holding it steadily. “If you overshoot it by even a little…”
“I understand.” Lockon’s words were as clipped as her own, but the nod was firm, and his fingers curled into a tight fist.
Next to him Setsuna shifted marginally; anyone watching closely might have caught the faint downward twitch of his mouth that suggested he was less than happy with the proposition. “I could-”
“No,” Sumeragi cut in sharply. “Lockon’s closest, and it has to happen now.”
“I have a score to settle in any case,” Lockon muttered darkly. He raised the fist slightly, and paused a moment. “For Tieria.”
A quick flick was all it took to send the two cubes skittering across the surface of the table, a jagged bounce and roll watched anxiously by all eyes, until they finally settled to a halt, baring their results for all to see.
Lockon stared at the upturned numbers, then at the board, silently counting the squares. His face twisted into an expression of utter disgust. “Son of a bitch.”
Allelujah cocked his head slightly, expression carefully devoid of even the tiniest smile, and held out one hand almost apologetically. “I believe that’s my hotel.”
Title: Conditioning
Rating: PG
Series: Gundam 00 (Allelujah)
Wordcount: 136
Remarks: Takes place between seasons one and two.
He bit them once.
He didn’t know why—it was much more of a him thing to do. Maybe he just wanted to pick up the slack. They were asking again, though he’d stopped listening to the actual words a while ago, and he guessed they didn’t appreciate his lack of attention because there was a rough grip under his chin, jerking his head up. So he twisted, and they didn’t move fast enough. He’d never so much as glared at them before. It was too awkward a position to do much damage, and he thought maybe he'd missed altogether, but the coppersalt on his tongue said otherwise. He didn’t feel relieved afterwards, didn’t feel vindicated or satisfied or even eager for more. He just wanted to be left alone.
They kept him muzzled after that.
◘◘◘
Title: Of Gratitude
Rating: G
Series: Gundam 00 (Allelujah, Hallelujah)
Wordcount: 267
Remarks: Pre-series short, minorish spoiler for episode 5.
It had only been a quick run, executed with cautious haste, but his heart is still pounding in his chest. It is a struggle to stay attentive through the technical debriefing, words drowning in echoing thumps and hands that tremble in the remembrance of full-bodied vibration, and when he curls his fingers in to still them, the emptiness feels wrong.
Something must show despite it all, because the technician finishes his run-down with a gruff, "But hey, it was good, Haptism," and a sharp, awkward clap on the shoulder.
It’s enough to jolt him back, to realise there is attempted reassurance in those eyes, but by the time he says, “No, I’m not-” they are halfway down the corridor and the walls don’t care much for misunderstandings. He sighs, and the self-conscious wryness of his smile broadens into something more genuine as he turns his gaze to the glass window. The mobile suit sits quiet and still beyond it, betraying no hint of the power that had propelled it between asteroids only minutes before, skimming across space faster than mankind had believed - still believed - was possible.
"Kyrios," he murmurs, and each syllable holds a new weight to it, new respect for what this machine can do. "Gundam Kyrios."
His reflection cants its head, golden eye lit with the remnants of fierce delight and a brush of smugness, and the whisper of a chuckle floats in the air. "Glad to be alive?"
"Today I am." He shifts his gaze and says, “Today I am grateful," and almost laughs to see rare surprise mirrored back at him.
◘◘◘
Title: Tactics
Rating: G
Series: Gundam 00 (Meisters, Sumeragi)
Wordcount: 247
Remarks: Set sometime during season one; spoiler-free. Largely spurred by this one magazine entry mentioning an unexpected hobby of Allelujah's.
“You have one chance.” Sumeragi’s voice was uncommonly terse, emphasised by her sharp stab at a point on the board spread below them. “If you make it to this position you’ll be on defensible ground. We need that ground, Lockon.” She looked up, catching the gaze of the eldest Meister and holding it steadily. “If you overshoot it by even a little…”
“I understand.” Lockon’s words were as clipped as her own, but the nod was firm, and his fingers curled into a tight fist.
Next to him Setsuna shifted marginally; anyone watching closely might have caught the faint downward twitch of his mouth that suggested he was less than happy with the proposition. “I could-”
“No,” Sumeragi cut in sharply. “Lockon’s closest, and it has to happen now.”
“I have a score to settle in any case,” Lockon muttered darkly. He raised the fist slightly, and paused a moment. “For Tieria.”
A quick flick was all it took to send the two cubes skittering across the surface of the table, a jagged bounce and roll watched anxiously by all eyes, until they finally settled to a halt, baring their results for all to see.
Lockon stared at the upturned numbers, then at the board, silently counting the squares. His face twisted into an expression of utter disgust. “Son of a bitch.”
Allelujah cocked his head slightly, expression carefully devoid of even the tiniest smile, and held out one hand almost apologetically. “I believe that’s my hotel.”
no subject
Date: 2012-01-10 02:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-10 09:15 am (UTC)