Ally (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
likealeafonthewind) wrote2019-05-26 08:49 pm
likealeafonthewind) wrote2019-05-26 08:49 pm
Entry tags:
Sunday Six
Writing the 520 fic made me remember how much I like writing short(ish), less plot-driven pieces so of course, as soon as I finished it, I started a new ficlet. :P This is based on the Hades/Persephone prompt left by bonibaru on the plot bunny farm, but with a twist. It's a novelverse AU, but with a younger ZYL (at the beginning at least); it's pretty barebones right now, but here's a snippet:
“You.” It comes out in a hiss, with a bit of a whistling behind it. The king stops. Opens and closes his mouth again.
Zhao Yunlan can’t tell if he’s searching for words or searching for sounds. He realizes that he hasn’t actually heard anyone speaking since he entered the underworld. Do they not talk around here?
“You…” the king starts again, louder. His voice sounds rough, like there’s broken glass rubbing against each other in his throat. “Shouldn’t. Be. Here.”
Zhao Yunlan has a complicated combination of reactions in which he winces in sympathetic pain for the king who sounds like he’s got the worst sore throat in the history of mankind and grimaces automatically at that hated word. He decides to refrain from commenting on the king’s voice because that’s rude and that glaive next to him looks mighty sharp. “Ah, ‘shouldn’t,’” he says instead, unable to keep the sharp bitterness from his tone. “My father’s favorite word, along with ‘can’t’ and ‘why won’t you.’”
The king just tilts his head a smidge and stares at him. Zhao Yunlan wonders if maybe he also hasn’t moved in a very long time.
bonibaru on the plot bunny farm, but with a twist. It's a novelverse AU, but with a younger ZYL (at the beginning at least); it's pretty barebones right now, but here's a snippet:“You.” It comes out in a hiss, with a bit of a whistling behind it. The king stops. Opens and closes his mouth again.
Zhao Yunlan can’t tell if he’s searching for words or searching for sounds. He realizes that he hasn’t actually heard anyone speaking since he entered the underworld. Do they not talk around here?
“You…” the king starts again, louder. His voice sounds rough, like there’s broken glass rubbing against each other in his throat. “Shouldn’t. Be. Here.”
Zhao Yunlan has a complicated combination of reactions in which he winces in sympathetic pain for the king who sounds like he’s got the worst sore throat in the history of mankind and grimaces automatically at that hated word. He decides to refrain from commenting on the king’s voice because that’s rude and that glaive next to him looks mighty sharp. “Ah, ‘shouldn’t,’” he says instead, unable to keep the sharp bitterness from his tone. “My father’s favorite word, along with ‘can’t’ and ‘why won’t you.’”
The king just tilts his head a smidge and stares at him. Zhao Yunlan wonders if maybe he also hasn’t moved in a very long time.