Death Drabbles

[Eurydice]

((So! Jess started writing drabbles for most/all of her characters, and I have decided to do something similar, except that all of said drabbles will be surrounding my characters' deaths. OMG MORBID EMO ZOMG. Not sure how long this project will take, but I am looking forward to it.

I'm going to try to do this chronologically, but for some characters, I might just have a blank post, if they're currently active characters whose deaths are as-of-yet uncertain.

Updates to happen on an as-I-feel-like-it basis.

DISCLAIMER: Any cannon inaccuracies in the works below are (a) probably intentional, because when one is committing one's self to a strict hundred-word length, little things like "facts" get bent or (b) committed in the blissful ignorance of attempted creativity, so bugger off.))

[Eurydice]

Commander Lyta Chang

Death’s approach was strangely exhilarating.

The engine core of their shuttle was venting coolant into a haze near the ceiling. The monitor had fizzled out of functionality, but Lyta was keeping an eye on things via tricorder. It would not last, and there was no way to get to the EVA suits in time. Kazin, the only one who might have been able to help, had been knocked unconscious in the initial attack and lay still on the deck.

Lyta sat down beside him, let his head rest in her lap, and waited as the dizzying fumes swept over her

[Eurydice]

Commander Riona Delaney O'Conner

The sealed door burst open in a haze of sparks and smoke, and the heavy footfalls of a squad of Federation security personnel stomped into the room. Riona Delaney O’Conner listened to their heavy boots clattering across her floor as she faced the opposite wall, eyes closed: fifteen of them, probably, and someone high-ranking at their head.

She swiveled around. Sixteen figures. Damn, I’m good at this.

Fleet Admiral Garrus, his dark face lined with anger and concern, had his phaser rifle held casually at his side. “Get up, O’Conner.”

Riona stood. She would not be taken without a fight.

[Eurydice]

Tavaril

Stupid Celebrindal, dying and leaving your stupid daughter, Annaril, here for me to take care of.

Stupid Annaril, having to get mixed up with these stupid save-the-world adventurer types.

Stupid Lokiagar, and stupid me, getting swept up into it, too.

Stupid everyone else for believing in our cause. We’re not heroes. We’re just normal people, trying to get by and do something right.

Stupid Loki and his stupid gallantry; always had to sacrifice himself.

Stupid world—it never takes just one sacrifice, does it?

Fine, world. I can die for a stupid cause. Let them live.

Goodbye, Annaril. Good luck.

[Eurydice]

Carvin Ansara

Carvin remembered how beautiful she used to be.

White-haired and bent in age as she was now, she remembered what it had been like, being young and beautiful, turning a dozen heads merely by wearing a nice smile. How men’s eyes would follow her as she walked. She remembered.

She laughed. What use were such silly vanities? She had a family now, a home, people who loved her for her beauty of spirit, and the wrinkles of old age could do nothing to drive that away.

Serene, content, Carvin sat back to doze and dream in the late afternoon sun.

[Eurydice]

Charmian Woodward

Whistling a cheerful tune, Charmian followed the procession up to the gallows. She was a good deal shorter than most of the others awaiting execution.

One day, that wizard had chided her, your sticky little fingers are going to get you in trouble.

And they had.

Well, that was that. No more depending on the inattention of strangers and shopkeepers for her income. No more thrilling chase scenes or tumbling from rooftops. Now, all that lay ahead of her was the hangman’s noose, and whatever worlds lay beyond this one.

She hoped there was plenty to plunder in the afterlife.

[Eurydice]

Herazade Gaine

There are days when it feels like the world is all too much, too much pain and beauty and glory and wonder. Herazade would miss it all.

But she could feel it, as she felt some part of herself leave her body behind; she could feel the wind flowing over dragons’ wings, the bright sea sparkling and peaking in white foam, leaves falling. She could feel the tides of mana ebb and flow, and the solid castle walls below, and the clouds above as the smoke from the forge billowed high.

And she would be a part of it forever.

[Eurydice]

Jo Pari

too many voices screaming burning have to do something make a choice because the captain says that it’ll save us and the doctor says that it can only tear us apart but i’m the only one who can choose now force myself to stand and pick up that damned sword that almost killed everyone last time and i can feel the wounds all over my body pouring their blood into the bright gem on the hilt as i let the trance take me and i hold it high over my head and bring it down to shatter the black stone

[Eurydice]

Laurel Yesaemon

Neurotoxin. Shit.

She stumbles to her feet. There are dozens of antitoxins in the bathroom cabinet. No time to get pissed at herself for slipping up on this. Has to just keep moving.

Her feet keep her going forward; she sways. God, it’s moving through her fast. The handle of the cabinet door in her hand. Wrenching it open. Shit. Slipping. Fingers stiff. It’s harder to breathe. Keep moving.

Can’t keep a hold on the bottle. Shit. Shit. Can’t feel her fingers at all now. She’s fallen, sprawled on the bathroom floor. Undignified.

Pressure. Can’t breathe. Sparks.

Gray, flat vision.

[Eurydice]

Hannah Leigh Scorsby

The bleeding was almost stopped, now. Just a little bit longer.

Hannah Leigh groaned quietly as she propped herself up, shotgun at her side. She’d taken them down, as many as she could see. It had been enough time for Harry and his friends to get out. It was all she could ask for, at this point. She gingerly touched two fingers to the hole in her side, gasped in pain, retracted them.

A ways in the distance, beyond the slum, bright lights of the new casino lit the horizon.

Just a little bit longer, now. The bleeding would stop.

[Eurydice]

Lyra Jordan

She stood between a semi-circle of men and women in fawn skin tunics and a door.

In some part, Lyra, madness caster and Bacchus cultist, had known all of her life that this moment would come eventually. It had first taken her mother, and then her father, and now it was her turn.

She had known it would happen. Ever since she found her father’s empty, blood-spattered room, she had known.

One of the figures in the semi-circle raised the thyrsus he held and pointed at the door. Unmoving. Inevitable.

Lyra walked through the door and closed it behind her.

[Eurydice]

Mary Sue the Fangirl

Tucking an errant strand of golden hair behind her ear, Mary Sue flounced over to answer the door. Outside, she saw a sizable crowd. Her husband had many admirers.

She postured prettily. “What can I do for you?”

A figure stepped forward. “Mary Sue?”

“Also known as Mrs. Speed.”

The figure nodded. “Ms. Sue, I represent a group called the League of Intelligent Fandom; we consider you and your kind to be the very antithesis of all we revere.”

“What are you saying—” she started to ask before a club struck the back of her head. The crowd cheered.

[Eurydice]

Lady Aurora Onar

One final assault on Daniel of Dream was all that Lady Aurora desired. One final assault was all she had left in her anyway, she figured.

Her army of shades and spirits arrayed before her, she smiled. It would not be enough. Nothing would be enough to take on the King of Dreams, not even an ill-begotten daughter. All of her followers must have known that, surely. They would be fools not to.

But it would be a glorious fight, while it lasted.

Aurora raised her spear. The mass before her howled a shrill war cry, their voices as one.

[Eurydice]

Doctor Johanna Elizabeth Parry

Concussive force struck her chest, an enormous mass of dull, impossible pain. The world around her should have been going blurry, but somehow, everything looked clearer now, in focus, as if for the first time. Maratte’s damned voice droned on, a tone of low, thick, grating misery, and if she had felt more coherent, Jo might have noted how empty all of his excuses and apologies sounded.

She craned her neck up, spat in his face, and sank back again, the blood and breath draining out of her.

In perfect, clear vision, Jo saw the rifle level with her face.

[Eurydice]

Doctor Annie Sheridan

Annie’s hand leapt to the back of her neck where she could have sworn that something had pricked.

She hated crowds. They frightened her. This one teemed around her, a living mass, leaving her dizzy with terror.

The hand on her neck brushed two tiny, equidistant marks, just like the ones she’d found on the last three bodies that she had autopsied. The little marks were cold under her fingers, a cold that raised the hairs on the nape of her neck.

Trembling, she looked behind her, but there was no one there, save the teeming crowd. She felt faint.