Post by The Muse on Aug 5, 2009 23:15:00 GMT -5
Title: Logical Mania
Challenge: #3 Battle Scene
Fandom: Buffy/Firefly
Pairing/Characters: Drusilla and River
Summary: Instead of a conventional battle, mine portrays a battle of wits, or powers, or crazy, or whatever you wanna call it. It is about a chess match between the future seeing Drusilla and the mind reading River
Rating: Not sure, let you be the judge
Warnings: There be a bit of violence, kinda.
Disclaimer: I do not own Drusilla and River.
Word Count: 851
Author's Note: Thanks to my betas for pointing out silly errors such as the word “the” twice in a row and what not. While I am not much of a Twilight fan, I must give Stephanie Meyer a nod. This idea was somewhat inspired by the chess match between Edward and Alice in one the books.
Inside a large, dark room, two women stand beside chairs placed at a small wooden table. On the table rests a chess board set up and ready to be played. The paler of the two women runs her hands along the sides of her black frock, the red trim standing out against her skin. She purrs as if warming up to the event. The other woman, standing in a loose black dress, stares inquisitively at her opponent, as if trying to piece together some puzzle.
River bends down, producing a coin from inside her combat boots. She stands straight and flips it very high into the air saying, “The statistical probability of such an equally weighted object landing on one side of the other is approximately 49.99983%, leaving a 0.00034% chance of landing on the edge at any point, and that’s only when ignoring factors such as …”
“Heads, because they taste better than bottoms,” Drusilla interrupts as the loud clap of River capturing the coin between her hands fills the room. River checks the coin and nods toward Drusilla. “I always have more fun in the black. No Mr. Sun ruining my party,” she says as the competitors move to sit at the appropriate side of the table. Immediately upon sitting, River reaches forward, moving the pawn in front of her king forward two spaces. “Eight little soldiers all in a row, here to protect the aristocracy from those of less privileged means,” Drusilla states while staring fixedly at her own pieces. After a few moments, she looks up slightly, noticing the moved piece. “That little tin man has been naughty. Stepping out of line while the monarchy is left without clothes. He shall be punished.” She moves the knight on her left side up two spaces and right one, threatening the moved pawn.
“The Alekhine’s Defense fails seven out of ten times in this scenario,” River coldly states, bringing a pout to her opponent’s lips. “That is unless the quantum and intangible nature of identity causes the pieces to transfer particles of their controller into themselves, giving you a total of sixteen small, plastic, constantly regenerating, undead soldiers.”
At this, the pout slowly retreats and her gaze seems to move upward toward the ceiling. “The stars, they show me small children with pitch forks coming from the bog to tell the captain it’s their turn to ride the pony.” Her gaze returns to River as a second white pawn is moved forward to protect the one in danger. “But he won’t let them. ‘Single file,’ he said, but they won’t listen. They only understand the rules,” she says to River, a slight smile coming across her face.
“The stars can tell you, through mathematical calculations, things such as the gravitational forces surrounding it as well as it orbits of object within its sphere of influence. I’m not so sure that they can measure the move my pieces will make before they actually move in a localized sense. That is unless the stars are near a wormhole that connects to the appropriate time and space. Is there a wormhole?”
Drusilla, ignoring the ramble, examines the board intently to decide her next move, while River stares at her as if still trying to work out an enigma.
Then, as if she has been meaning to say it for some time, River blurts out, “You don’t breathe.” Drusilla looks up and nods. After a short pause, “You must have a pulmonary CO2/O2 conversion system implanted. That could also explain the change in your epidermal color scheme.” Drusilla shrugs nonchalantly as if not knowing the answer and not caring, and returns her gaze to the board.
After a couple minutes of River staring at Drusilla as she stares at the board, Drusilla’s head cocks to the side as if trying to hear something in the distance. After a moment of listening and staring off into the distance, her pout returns. “The king of night and the king of light are not friends. Nor are the friends of their subjects. One by one they trickle way. Drip. Drip. Drip. Then Mr. Night and Miss Knight are all alone in the garden with walls and priests forming around. They just want to be alone to enjoy the daffodils, but the light beams down burning them to cinders.” As Drusilla speaks, River begins smiling, not at the words but as if seeing or listening to something else. Drusilla reaches out toward her king and lays him on his side, forfeiting the game.
“You should have gone with the Nimzowitch Defense. This is the outcome when you allow astronomical formations to play chess for you,” River states while shaking her head in disapproval. Her head jerks up quickly bringing all her attention to Drusilla. “What do my eyes have to do with it?” The loud noise of chairs sliding along the floor fills the room as both women jump to their feet, fangs and fists ready for a fight.
As Drusilla leaps across the table at River, scattering chess pieces all over the place, she screams, “EVERYTHING!”
Challenge: #3 Battle Scene
Fandom: Buffy/Firefly
Pairing/Characters: Drusilla and River
Summary: Instead of a conventional battle, mine portrays a battle of wits, or powers, or crazy, or whatever you wanna call it. It is about a chess match between the future seeing Drusilla and the mind reading River
Rating: Not sure, let you be the judge
Warnings: There be a bit of violence, kinda.
Disclaimer: I do not own Drusilla and River.
Word Count: 851
Author's Note: Thanks to my betas for pointing out silly errors such as the word “the” twice in a row and what not. While I am not much of a Twilight fan, I must give Stephanie Meyer a nod. This idea was somewhat inspired by the chess match between Edward and Alice in one the books.
Inside a large, dark room, two women stand beside chairs placed at a small wooden table. On the table rests a chess board set up and ready to be played. The paler of the two women runs her hands along the sides of her black frock, the red trim standing out against her skin. She purrs as if warming up to the event. The other woman, standing in a loose black dress, stares inquisitively at her opponent, as if trying to piece together some puzzle.
River bends down, producing a coin from inside her combat boots. She stands straight and flips it very high into the air saying, “The statistical probability of such an equally weighted object landing on one side of the other is approximately 49.99983%, leaving a 0.00034% chance of landing on the edge at any point, and that’s only when ignoring factors such as …”
“Heads, because they taste better than bottoms,” Drusilla interrupts as the loud clap of River capturing the coin between her hands fills the room. River checks the coin and nods toward Drusilla. “I always have more fun in the black. No Mr. Sun ruining my party,” she says as the competitors move to sit at the appropriate side of the table. Immediately upon sitting, River reaches forward, moving the pawn in front of her king forward two spaces. “Eight little soldiers all in a row, here to protect the aristocracy from those of less privileged means,” Drusilla states while staring fixedly at her own pieces. After a few moments, she looks up slightly, noticing the moved piece. “That little tin man has been naughty. Stepping out of line while the monarchy is left without clothes. He shall be punished.” She moves the knight on her left side up two spaces and right one, threatening the moved pawn.
“The Alekhine’s Defense fails seven out of ten times in this scenario,” River coldly states, bringing a pout to her opponent’s lips. “That is unless the quantum and intangible nature of identity causes the pieces to transfer particles of their controller into themselves, giving you a total of sixteen small, plastic, constantly regenerating, undead soldiers.”
At this, the pout slowly retreats and her gaze seems to move upward toward the ceiling. “The stars, they show me small children with pitch forks coming from the bog to tell the captain it’s their turn to ride the pony.” Her gaze returns to River as a second white pawn is moved forward to protect the one in danger. “But he won’t let them. ‘Single file,’ he said, but they won’t listen. They only understand the rules,” she says to River, a slight smile coming across her face.
“The stars can tell you, through mathematical calculations, things such as the gravitational forces surrounding it as well as it orbits of object within its sphere of influence. I’m not so sure that they can measure the move my pieces will make before they actually move in a localized sense. That is unless the stars are near a wormhole that connects to the appropriate time and space. Is there a wormhole?”
Drusilla, ignoring the ramble, examines the board intently to decide her next move, while River stares at her as if still trying to work out an enigma.
Then, as if she has been meaning to say it for some time, River blurts out, “You don’t breathe.” Drusilla looks up and nods. After a short pause, “You must have a pulmonary CO2/O2 conversion system implanted. That could also explain the change in your epidermal color scheme.” Drusilla shrugs nonchalantly as if not knowing the answer and not caring, and returns her gaze to the board.
After a couple minutes of River staring at Drusilla as she stares at the board, Drusilla’s head cocks to the side as if trying to hear something in the distance. After a moment of listening and staring off into the distance, her pout returns. “The king of night and the king of light are not friends. Nor are the friends of their subjects. One by one they trickle way. Drip. Drip. Drip. Then Mr. Night and Miss Knight are all alone in the garden with walls and priests forming around. They just want to be alone to enjoy the daffodils, but the light beams down burning them to cinders.” As Drusilla speaks, River begins smiling, not at the words but as if seeing or listening to something else. Drusilla reaches out toward her king and lays him on his side, forfeiting the game.
“You should have gone with the Nimzowitch Defense. This is the outcome when you allow astronomical formations to play chess for you,” River states while shaking her head in disapproval. Her head jerks up quickly bringing all her attention to Drusilla. “What do my eyes have to do with it?” The loud noise of chairs sliding along the floor fills the room as both women jump to their feet, fangs and fists ready for a fight.
As Drusilla leaps across the table at River, scattering chess pieces all over the place, she screams, “EVERYTHING!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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