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Okay, okay, so there's this really special fandom hell that involves crossovers. Especially when you try to write them so they make a little sense, and even more especially when you have little to no experience writing either fandom!
BUT.
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rivendellrose, I'm SO SORRY this isn't better. XD; Also, for the bad name-pun.
Crossing Rivers
Firefly/Shadow Hearts: Covenant
~1500 words
Set pre-"Hearts of Gold" for Firefly, and at some point on the second disc of Shadow Hearts: Covenant when you're just wandering around and trying to get Yuri's ultimate fusions. |D
Oh, special fandom hell, here I come.
+++++
Yuri stumbled through the Door of the Heaven's Commandments, a headache blurring his vision and a sour taste in his mouth and Orexis muttering darkly in the back of his mind. He wanted a shower and a nap and maybe to kick the crap out of any monsters stupid enough to bother him right now, and not necessarily in that order, though for the moment, he would settle for simply getting out.
As he limped past the tree, he stopped at the sound of singing. Confused, he turned and made his way around, half-expecting to see Jeanne there -- she hadn't been appearing recently, but maybe ghosts counted time differently than the living. "Jeanne? That you?"
The singing stopped. And then a girl's voice, a different voice, said clearly, "Jeanne. Alternately, Joan. 'God's gracious gift.' It's a good name for her."
Startled, Yuri dropped into a defensive crouch. His entire body still ached from the earlier battle, but it was nothing unbearable, and he wasn't about ready to let his own brain be what killed him. "Who's there?!"
An oval white face peered out at him from around the tree. A girl in a tattered red dress and a white shawl peered at him, her hands resting on dirty knees. "She's not quite real yet," she said. "She will be, but by then, Earth will be what was."
Yuri stared at her. "... what?"
She unfolded upwards, like some weird blooming flower, skinny enough that Yuri thought maybe he could snap her in two with one hand. "Earth-that-is," she said. "In time, it will become what was." Even in heavy black boots, she moved with careful airy lightness, like Lucia, like a dancer. "But you will still be, even in time."
Yuri started to back up and felt his knees lock into place as the girl came towards him, her expression curious and cutting. He had the distinct and uncomfortable impression she was looking into him instead of merely just at him, before she stretched out and touched the tip of her index finger to the jewel of the periapt around his neck.
It felt like being stabbed with ice. For a moment a whole confusing blur of images flashed across the Graveyard's sky -- giant metal ships surrounded only by the darkness of the sky and stars, explosions of soundless fire, men with hands of blue reaching, reaching --
-- and beyond that, Alice's face as she smiled with an infant in her arms --
He jerked back, away from her. "What--"
"Oh," said the girl, and smiled. "I see."
"See what?" He raised his fists again, scowling. "I don't care what sort of funny stuff you think you can pull, but this is my soul, and you're sure as hell not supposed to be here, so --"
She gathered up bunches of her pleated skirt into her hands and dropped into a perfect curtsey, still smiling. "Family likenesses always breed true," she said. "The captain is forgetful, so I'll make sure something will be left out the next time Qing Ming comes around."
"What? Hey, wait --" He reached out, and she stepped neatly out of his way, curtseying again before she turned around and vanished, like Jeanne always did, in a shaft of light. "Wait--!"
She was gone. Yuri kicked around through the Graveyard for nearly an hour afterwards, peering through the doors that would actually open to him, squinting up into the branches of the tree growing in the center, and found nothing. He touched his own finger to the jewel around his neck and felt nothing; no more images flickered across the murky sky. There was no trace of the strange second girl, as though she'd never even existed -- or maybe, as she'd said, she didn't yet exist.
Yuri shook his head. He was over having crazy voices in his head and the attendant problems, and all it took was a little encouragement before he was falling back into the same patterns. Shaking his head, he turned and walked through the gates, back to the waking world.
Unnoticed, a small scrap of paper fluttered across the roots of the tree and vanished.
+++
Mal found River bent over something at the mess table, shreds of of construction paper and a spill of colored pencils scattered around her. He got himself coffee, then wandered over to peer over her shoulder. "Not that I'm one to be critical of the fine arts," he said, "but I dearly hope you're planning on cleaning that up when you're done."
"It'll be taken care of," she said, not looking up. She was meticulously writing something down the center of a red piece of paper in her fine, spidery lettering; Mal leaned down to look and she shifted her shoulder into his line of sight. "The living care about messes, not the dead."
Mal sipped his coffee. "You got much experience with them?"
"There's a whole graveyard," she said, and tapped her temple, not looking up. "Right here."
"... Oh." Mal blinked at her. "Is that so."
"But some of them go there when they're not dead." River put her pen down and picked up a pair of scissors, cutting corners off the paper, shaving off slivers until it began to resemble the shape of a cartoon heart. "There are places where crossing over occurs."
"Crossing over? You're losing me there."
River's lips pursed. "It's a locational manifestation that exists within the collective unconscious. There are some places we can never escape: the cradle and the grave. Time is very fluid when you're working with the brain."
Mal's cup remained half-lifted, and he blinked at her. "You wanna translate that?"
"There was a man today," she said. "I think he was from very long ago."
"Talkin' to ghosts now, little River?" He raised an eyebrow. "That's not much your style."
"The living are only one degree removed from the dead," River told him. "It's not that much more effort to hear them."
"So." Mal leaned his hip onto the table, watching as River wrote three neat lines of kanji down the center of a second piece of paper; he recognized it as a poem about ghosts. "You're talking to a dead guy in your head."
"No," River corrected serenely, as she cut out another construction paper heart. "In his."
Mal blinked. With meticulous preciseness, River applied glue to the edges of her heart and placed it on a larger piece of black paper. "Huh. Your brother know about this?"
"Simon is a doctor," River said, like this made perfect sense. Mal waited, and eventually she added, "He's too grounded in the physical. Doesn't like thinking about the dead, or else he starts picturing girls in boxes that are black, not silver." She reached down into the folds of her skirt and pulled something out, holding it to him. "This belongs to you."
Surprised, Mal held out his hand, then looked at the leather-thong necklace she dropped into it. "Zao gao, River, where did you find this?"
"It was very late," she said, and Mal watched as she wrote another small poem, only briefly visible, black ink on black paper. "I couldn't sleep. Serenity couldn't either."
"So that gives you the right to go digging through my mail?" Mal closed his hand around the talisman. The package had arrived with a postmark from one of the former ranch hands from Shadow; there was no letter, but Mal had recognized it as one of the few things his mother had ever kept from his father. "For that matter, how the hell did you get into my room when I was asleep?"
"I didn't," she said. "It was there, outside your door. You shouldn't be so neglectful of your ancestors, captain. They aren't hungry ghouls, but they do get restless, from time to time." She reached out and folded her small hands over his, smiling up at him. "They don't know we're coming, but we know that they've been, and it's up to us to remember."
Mal blinked at her for a moment, then pulled his hand from hers, stuffing the necklace into his pocket. "Be that as it may," he said, "if you're going to go talking to ghosts again, little River, try to pick someone else's family history, dong ma?"
River just rolled her eyes and handed him the card she'd been working on; if he turned it just so, he could see the dried ink lines of several short haiku written on the black part. "It's not traditional," she said. "I don't think he'll mind."
And then she turned and skipped away, leaving Mal with the card, and the mess leftover from its construction.
--end--
BUT.
For
rivendellrose, I'm SO SORRY this isn't better. XD; Also, for the bad name-pun.Crossing Rivers
Firefly/Shadow Hearts: Covenant
~1500 words
Set pre-"Hearts of Gold" for Firefly, and at some point on the second disc of Shadow Hearts: Covenant when you're just wandering around and trying to get Yuri's ultimate fusions. |D
+++++
Yuri stumbled through the Door of the Heaven's Commandments, a headache blurring his vision and a sour taste in his mouth and Orexis muttering darkly in the back of his mind. He wanted a shower and a nap and maybe to kick the crap out of any monsters stupid enough to bother him right now, and not necessarily in that order, though for the moment, he would settle for simply getting out.
As he limped past the tree, he stopped at the sound of singing. Confused, he turned and made his way around, half-expecting to see Jeanne there -- she hadn't been appearing recently, but maybe ghosts counted time differently than the living. "Jeanne? That you?"
The singing stopped. And then a girl's voice, a different voice, said clearly, "Jeanne. Alternately, Joan. 'God's gracious gift.' It's a good name for her."
Startled, Yuri dropped into a defensive crouch. His entire body still ached from the earlier battle, but it was nothing unbearable, and he wasn't about ready to let his own brain be what killed him. "Who's there?!"
An oval white face peered out at him from around the tree. A girl in a tattered red dress and a white shawl peered at him, her hands resting on dirty knees. "She's not quite real yet," she said. "She will be, but by then, Earth will be what was."
Yuri stared at her. "... what?"
She unfolded upwards, like some weird blooming flower, skinny enough that Yuri thought maybe he could snap her in two with one hand. "Earth-that-is," she said. "In time, it will become what was." Even in heavy black boots, she moved with careful airy lightness, like Lucia, like a dancer. "But you will still be, even in time."
Yuri started to back up and felt his knees lock into place as the girl came towards him, her expression curious and cutting. He had the distinct and uncomfortable impression she was looking into him instead of merely just at him, before she stretched out and touched the tip of her index finger to the jewel of the periapt around his neck.
It felt like being stabbed with ice. For a moment a whole confusing blur of images flashed across the Graveyard's sky -- giant metal ships surrounded only by the darkness of the sky and stars, explosions of soundless fire, men with hands of blue reaching, reaching --
-- and beyond that, Alice's face as she smiled with an infant in her arms --
He jerked back, away from her. "What--"
"Oh," said the girl, and smiled. "I see."
"See what?" He raised his fists again, scowling. "I don't care what sort of funny stuff you think you can pull, but this is my soul, and you're sure as hell not supposed to be here, so --"
She gathered up bunches of her pleated skirt into her hands and dropped into a perfect curtsey, still smiling. "Family likenesses always breed true," she said. "The captain is forgetful, so I'll make sure something will be left out the next time Qing Ming comes around."
"What? Hey, wait --" He reached out, and she stepped neatly out of his way, curtseying again before she turned around and vanished, like Jeanne always did, in a shaft of light. "Wait--!"
She was gone. Yuri kicked around through the Graveyard for nearly an hour afterwards, peering through the doors that would actually open to him, squinting up into the branches of the tree growing in the center, and found nothing. He touched his own finger to the jewel around his neck and felt nothing; no more images flickered across the murky sky. There was no trace of the strange second girl, as though she'd never even existed -- or maybe, as she'd said, she didn't yet exist.
Yuri shook his head. He was over having crazy voices in his head and the attendant problems, and all it took was a little encouragement before he was falling back into the same patterns. Shaking his head, he turned and walked through the gates, back to the waking world.
Unnoticed, a small scrap of paper fluttered across the roots of the tree and vanished.
+++
Mal found River bent over something at the mess table, shreds of of construction paper and a spill of colored pencils scattered around her. He got himself coffee, then wandered over to peer over her shoulder. "Not that I'm one to be critical of the fine arts," he said, "but I dearly hope you're planning on cleaning that up when you're done."
"It'll be taken care of," she said, not looking up. She was meticulously writing something down the center of a red piece of paper in her fine, spidery lettering; Mal leaned down to look and she shifted her shoulder into his line of sight. "The living care about messes, not the dead."
Mal sipped his coffee. "You got much experience with them?"
"There's a whole graveyard," she said, and tapped her temple, not looking up. "Right here."
"... Oh." Mal blinked at her. "Is that so."
"But some of them go there when they're not dead." River put her pen down and picked up a pair of scissors, cutting corners off the paper, shaving off slivers until it began to resemble the shape of a cartoon heart. "There are places where crossing over occurs."
"Crossing over? You're losing me there."
River's lips pursed. "It's a locational manifestation that exists within the collective unconscious. There are some places we can never escape: the cradle and the grave. Time is very fluid when you're working with the brain."
Mal's cup remained half-lifted, and he blinked at her. "You wanna translate that?"
"There was a man today," she said. "I think he was from very long ago."
"Talkin' to ghosts now, little River?" He raised an eyebrow. "That's not much your style."
"The living are only one degree removed from the dead," River told him. "It's not that much more effort to hear them."
"So." Mal leaned his hip onto the table, watching as River wrote three neat lines of kanji down the center of a second piece of paper; he recognized it as a poem about ghosts. "You're talking to a dead guy in your head."
"No," River corrected serenely, as she cut out another construction paper heart. "In his."
Mal blinked. With meticulous preciseness, River applied glue to the edges of her heart and placed it on a larger piece of black paper. "Huh. Your brother know about this?"
"Simon is a doctor," River said, like this made perfect sense. Mal waited, and eventually she added, "He's too grounded in the physical. Doesn't like thinking about the dead, or else he starts picturing girls in boxes that are black, not silver." She reached down into the folds of her skirt and pulled something out, holding it to him. "This belongs to you."
Surprised, Mal held out his hand, then looked at the leather-thong necklace she dropped into it. "Zao gao, River, where did you find this?"
"It was very late," she said, and Mal watched as she wrote another small poem, only briefly visible, black ink on black paper. "I couldn't sleep. Serenity couldn't either."
"So that gives you the right to go digging through my mail?" Mal closed his hand around the talisman. The package had arrived with a postmark from one of the former ranch hands from Shadow; there was no letter, but Mal had recognized it as one of the few things his mother had ever kept from his father. "For that matter, how the hell did you get into my room when I was asleep?"
"I didn't," she said. "It was there, outside your door. You shouldn't be so neglectful of your ancestors, captain. They aren't hungry ghouls, but they do get restless, from time to time." She reached out and folded her small hands over his, smiling up at him. "They don't know we're coming, but we know that they've been, and it's up to us to remember."
Mal blinked at her for a moment, then pulled his hand from hers, stuffing the necklace into his pocket. "Be that as it may," he said, "if you're going to go talking to ghosts again, little River, try to pick someone else's family history, dong ma?"
River just rolled her eyes and handed him the card she'd been working on; if he turned it just so, he could see the dried ink lines of several short haiku written on the black part. "It's not traditional," she said. "I don't think he'll mind."
And then she turned and skipped away, leaving Mal with the card, and the mess leftover from its construction.
--end--
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"WHAT?"
"... I had to end up here SOMEHOW, and it wasn't me. :O"
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But yay, I'm glad my River sounded right. :3
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So perfect. I don't know why you always gripe about having a hard time with Mal, you had him very well in here, and River was, as always, perfect. Lovely lovely lovely. :D
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I gripe about Mal because he IS hard for me to write. XD; I'm always worried that I'm going either too far (Jayne) or not far enough (Zoe) with his voice and accent. River, though, River's fun♥
I'm glad you liked it~ :D
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I'm glad you liked♥
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