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Feb. 1st, 2010 08:59 pm
Drabble-Month: Day #1
It’s eerie here at night.
They’ve yet to leave dry-dock and will be sailing into the stars at a future date of Starfleet’s decision, when the dying are no longer on the forefront of the public’s minds and the grief of a universe has dwindled into the last faded embers of a once-burning rage. Jim lurks by the chair that will soon be his.
Captain Pike is relieved and Jim Kirk is in line for greatness.
They knew his face from history, but there’s only pages going forward from here on out, to colour their own conquests and chart the galaxies by their own pens and not those of some alternate reality’s handiwork.
Jim settles down into the chair and stares downwards to the ground below as if daring him to jump and to see if he’s going to fall or if he’ll manage to be caught. He leans forward until he’s perched precariously on the edge of the chair, as if he’s willing himself to try.
“Don’t do it,” a familiar voice warns. Bones. Jim had snuck the both of them on – Jim to see his future throne and Bones to see the small realm he’ll command in the inside of the ship.
Jim sprawls slightly and eases back from the edge. “Do what?”
“I don’t know, but you have the look in your eye. Like you’re ready to jump.”
And Jim isn’t sure how to say, but we’re both about to fly, though it’s the truth. So instead he just smiles at Bones and coaxes him towards him in order to press close to him and kiss his lips and breathe out promises about the future against his lips. They may not be the men that history remembers, but he doesn’t think that a century from now, anyone will be too hard-pressed to forget them.
They’ve yet to leave dry-dock and will be sailing into the stars at a future date of Starfleet’s decision, when the dying are no longer on the forefront of the public’s minds and the grief of a universe has dwindled into the last faded embers of a once-burning rage. Jim lurks by the chair that will soon be his.
Captain Pike is relieved and Jim Kirk is in line for greatness.
They knew his face from history, but there’s only pages going forward from here on out, to colour their own conquests and chart the galaxies by their own pens and not those of some alternate reality’s handiwork.
Jim settles down into the chair and stares downwards to the ground below as if daring him to jump and to see if he’s going to fall or if he’ll manage to be caught. He leans forward until he’s perched precariously on the edge of the chair, as if he’s willing himself to try.
“Don’t do it,” a familiar voice warns. Bones. Jim had snuck the both of them on – Jim to see his future throne and Bones to see the small realm he’ll command in the inside of the ship.
Jim sprawls slightly and eases back from the edge. “Do what?”
“I don’t know, but you have the look in your eye. Like you’re ready to jump.”
And Jim isn’t sure how to say, but we’re both about to fly, though it’s the truth. So instead he just smiles at Bones and coaxes him towards him in order to press close to him and kiss his lips and breathe out promises about the future against his lips. They may not be the men that history remembers, but he doesn’t think that a century from now, anyone will be too hard-pressed to forget them.
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