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kinkfest2008-06-25 11:14 pm
karanguni.livejournal.com) wrote in kinkfest2008-06-25 11:14 pm
Discworld: Awhile Together (Death/Vetinari)
Title: Awhile Together
Rating: PG
Fandom: Discworld
Prompt: Discworld, Death/Vetinari: caught doing something he shouldn't have been doing - I think I could walk with you / Through the shadows of your nights
Wordcount: 686
Summary: They're oddly similar, Death and Vetinari, and it's not a comparison made for humour's sake alone.
A/N: I have been terribly, terribly behind on SK. I apologise, and really, um, not too many excuses here.
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He comes, and comes quietly, almost unheard. It's in Death's nature to know - not just anything but everything: to know the time and the place and the moment, to know what is in the world, and where it all lies after the gods finish with their games of dice. But he comes and Death barely hears him; Vetinari, he thinks, when he is finally aware of the man pulling up alongside him, is so human that he blends into the world at large. The human race is full of colourful characters: those loud and noisy, those quiet and shy, everything along every scale that could measure any attribute. But they all stand out - there is always something wrong with a human being, something deep inside of them which makes them conflicted and dissatisfied with themselves or the lives they live.
Vetinari exempts himself from that scale. Vetinari - in a way that reminds Death almost eerily of his own methods - knows the right time. The right place. The right words. He's come about it after years of learning how and what it is to be himself. Now the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork may pull the strings of a thousand lives if he so likes – maybe more – and yet he is still his own person, as he has chosen to be - quiet, staid, gifted with all the cunning that humanity has to offer itself. Sure of where he stands. The world spins around Vetinari, who has chosen to step outside of the wheel.
Death wonders if this is why Susan dislikes her grandfather: he thinks too much, perhaps; thinks more than a anthromorphic representation really should.
Vetinari comes quietly and stands by Death's side. Death, because he knows he is meant to say the words, says, 'I DID NOT HEAR YOU COMING.'
'You could have,' Vetinari shakes his head, and he tucks his hands together and stands watching what Death is watching, unperturbed and calm. 'But you are not here on business, for which I suppose I should be grateful?'
'IT IS NOT YET YOUR TIME,' Death agrees, and that part of their opening is finished. He's embarrassed, almost, by what Vetinari has caught him doing. 'NOR IS IT HIS,' Death adds as a side note, pointing one bony finger at the figure of Leonard of Quirm.
'I'm glad of it,' Vetinari nods. 'He's quite a specimen, isn't he? Sometimes I do the same. I come, and watch. He never stops.'
'WHAT ARE THE THINGS THAT HE MAKES?'
'Leonard makes many things,' Vetinari says with a shrug. 'To be more specific, he makes everything.'
'THAT WHIRRING CONTRAPTION ABOVE HIS HEAD?'
'He calls it the Device That Circulates Air Around The Room Using A Small Hyro-powered Pump, but I've taken to calling it his ceiling fan. Ingenious design. He later adapted it for use on a hand-powered saw that could easily take down large logs, or peoples arms, if it came to that.'
They lapse into silence. Death watches Leonard with no expression in his sockets. Vetinari watches Leonard with his eyes carefully neutral. Without looking, they watch each other.
'DO YOU ENJOY OBSERVING HIM WORK?' Death asks, finally pressured into breaking the quiet. It's a very odd feeling, to feel pressured. Vetinari seems to do it naturally, without quite intending to.
'Do you enjoy observing humans?' comes the reply. Then there's a pause. 'Sometimes I envy him.' A pause again, as if Vetinari is making a decision; perhaps he , too, is unfamiliar with speaking in circumstances that make him a different man than the one the world sees. 'He gets joy out of what he does. Alone in this room, he participates in everything his world has to offer. It takes a certain quality to be alone yet never lonely.'
'AND YOU DO NOT GET JOY OUT OF YOUR OWN WORK?'
'Do you get joy out of yours?' Vetinari rebuts, and he asks Death's questions and has Death's answers.
Death comes into Vetinari's house again the next night, and they walk again a while together, saying little in the shadow of their nights.
Rating: PG
Fandom: Discworld
Prompt: Discworld, Death/Vetinari: caught doing something he shouldn't have been doing - I think I could walk with you / Through the shadows of your nights
Wordcount: 686
Summary: They're oddly similar, Death and Vetinari, and it's not a comparison made for humour's sake alone.
A/N: I have been terribly, terribly behind on SK. I apologise, and really, um, not too many excuses here.
He comes, and comes quietly, almost unheard. It's in Death's nature to know - not just anything but everything: to know the time and the place and the moment, to know what is in the world, and where it all lies after the gods finish with their games of dice. But he comes and Death barely hears him; Vetinari, he thinks, when he is finally aware of the man pulling up alongside him, is so human that he blends into the world at large. The human race is full of colourful characters: those loud and noisy, those quiet and shy, everything along every scale that could measure any attribute. But they all stand out - there is always something wrong with a human being, something deep inside of them which makes them conflicted and dissatisfied with themselves or the lives they live.
Vetinari exempts himself from that scale. Vetinari - in a way that reminds Death almost eerily of his own methods - knows the right time. The right place. The right words. He's come about it after years of learning how and what it is to be himself. Now the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork may pull the strings of a thousand lives if he so likes – maybe more – and yet he is still his own person, as he has chosen to be - quiet, staid, gifted with all the cunning that humanity has to offer itself. Sure of where he stands. The world spins around Vetinari, who has chosen to step outside of the wheel.
Death wonders if this is why Susan dislikes her grandfather: he thinks too much, perhaps; thinks more than a anthromorphic representation really should.
Vetinari comes quietly and stands by Death's side. Death, because he knows he is meant to say the words, says, 'I DID NOT HEAR YOU COMING.'
'You could have,' Vetinari shakes his head, and he tucks his hands together and stands watching what Death is watching, unperturbed and calm. 'But you are not here on business, for which I suppose I should be grateful?'
'IT IS NOT YET YOUR TIME,' Death agrees, and that part of their opening is finished. He's embarrassed, almost, by what Vetinari has caught him doing. 'NOR IS IT HIS,' Death adds as a side note, pointing one bony finger at the figure of Leonard of Quirm.
'I'm glad of it,' Vetinari nods. 'He's quite a specimen, isn't he? Sometimes I do the same. I come, and watch. He never stops.'
'WHAT ARE THE THINGS THAT HE MAKES?'
'Leonard makes many things,' Vetinari says with a shrug. 'To be more specific, he makes everything.'
'THAT WHIRRING CONTRAPTION ABOVE HIS HEAD?'
'He calls it the Device That Circulates Air Around The Room Using A Small Hyro-powered Pump, but I've taken to calling it his ceiling fan. Ingenious design. He later adapted it for use on a hand-powered saw that could easily take down large logs, or peoples arms, if it came to that.'
They lapse into silence. Death watches Leonard with no expression in his sockets. Vetinari watches Leonard with his eyes carefully neutral. Without looking, they watch each other.
'DO YOU ENJOY OBSERVING HIM WORK?' Death asks, finally pressured into breaking the quiet. It's a very odd feeling, to feel pressured. Vetinari seems to do it naturally, without quite intending to.
'Do you enjoy observing humans?' comes the reply. Then there's a pause. 'Sometimes I envy him.' A pause again, as if Vetinari is making a decision; perhaps he , too, is unfamiliar with speaking in circumstances that make him a different man than the one the world sees. 'He gets joy out of what he does. Alone in this room, he participates in everything his world has to offer. It takes a certain quality to be alone yet never lonely.'
'AND YOU DO NOT GET JOY OUT OF YOUR OWN WORK?'
'Do you get joy out of yours?' Vetinari rebuts, and he asks Death's questions and has Death's answers.
Death comes into Vetinari's house again the next night, and they walk again a while together, saying little in the shadow of their nights.