Ficlet: Hopes Expired
Rating: PG
Pairing: Gen (what? I can't help it, the gen keeps trying to lure me over, and I am weak!)
Warnings: None
Spoilers: For 1x09 'Excalibur'
Summary: Tristan is the last thing this is about
Hopes Expired
The Black Knight does not eat or sleep or breathe; he knows not life or warmth or mercy.
Arthur watches him. He sees failure. He sees inadequacy, a rising star burnt out. He sees Owain and Pellinor and Morgana’s favour red against the white sand, fluttering earthbound against the dust, the vibrancy of its hue dulled against the crimson life leaking away into nothing. The Black Knight’s stillness speaks to him of disappointed dreams and frustrated hopes.
Uther watches him. He sees Igraine behind that shuttered visor; he sees Nemesis. The two are one and the same. He sees the reaper, empty shell grinning up at him, Arthur cold and dead and never alive in the palm of his armoured hand. He sees a hunter, a hellhound unleashed to stalk him through the long corridors of his guilt. He watches the Black Knight and the monolithic face of his own grief stares back.
Nimueh watches him. She sees completion. She sees transformation. She sees injustice and justice both, twin faces twisted and rotten with years of festering decay. She sees the gaping void of past and present stretching forward step by step to devour the future, the manifestation of absences that should never have been. She has raised these aching bones, old grievances, chill from their tomb, and now she watches over them. Igraine she sees, but not Tristan; never Tristan.
Alone in the cold and the dark the Black Knight stands.

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I really really enjoyed this. very nice work ♥ I loe how you composed it btw. <3333
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OMG I LOVE YOUR ICON!
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Very nice, dear. Filled with phrases I want to hoarde and snuggle up to. 'monolithic face of his own grief' is winning right now
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You picked my personal favourite. I just really love the word 'monolithic' too. Nice and grandiose ;p
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You are so talented!
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Thank you! ♥
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Thank you!
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I can't pick a favourite part, it was all so good. But I really liked "stalk him through the long corridors of his guilt".
And now you are making me feel sorry for Tristan! He's so used by Nimueh. Poor, scary, undead man *grin*
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Thank you! ♥
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*is dead*
I echo xaritomene here, this is just wow.
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Thank you! :D
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♥
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But it's good.
It makes me think "prose poetry"; it's stream-of-consciousness, the shit people really have in their heads. And that stuff *doesn't* make sense.
[insert huge rant about my linguist nature and how writing is a form of translation and most of the reason I hate litfic is that it's labelling FAIL at the basic job of translation as success and did I mention I totally get what you mean about sitting around in a classics tutorial shouting stupid jokes nobody else would understand and PYSLing, because that is what life is FOR, I just do it about culture and fanstuff and my own stupid brain-injokes, not Latin.]
But it's still good.
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So yeah, thanks, I think? Did I hit a literary nerve?
*amused at the insert-a-rant*
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the sound of me losing the power of speech which is a rare thing indeed.
wonderful use of language.
i'm dreading when i find myself with no more of your writing to read ;s
x x x
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