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Title: Sturm und Drang
Author: alyse
Fandom: Legend of the Seeker
Rating: G
Characters: Nicci
Word Count: 300
Disclaimer: Original source and characters belong to Terry Goodkind and Disney/ABC. This is a not for profit fanfiction, written for sheer love of the show.
Author's Notes: Written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
legendland marathon challenge, using the prompt 'thunderstorm'
Summary: Nicci can feel it, the fury of the encroaching storm.
-o-
The sky overhead is growing darker and Nicci can feel it, the fury of the encroaching storm singing in her blood, rising up inside her until her fingertips are tingling and her heart is racing with it.
She - who has hated life for so long - feels alive, more alive than she can ever remember, alive when she is nothing but the walking dead. Her hair is slippery against her skin, tendrils rising to halo her head, dancing in the air, stirred here and there by the waves of powers surging through the atmosphere.
She reaches for it, that power, the act as instinctive, unstudied, as breathing… and is stopped, brought short by the Rada'han fastened firmly around her neck.
Darken's laugh is as dark, as stormy, as the looming horizon, a bitter kind of joy flashing through it.
"My poor witch," he mocks, and Nicci's fingers curl in impotent fury, wrath lighting her up from the inside. "Is there something that you're missing?"
Her anger does no good. For now, Rahl holds all the cards, the better hand in a game Nicci is only now learning how to play. She cannot win - yet - and so she subsides, sinking back down to her knees and staying there, head bowed, until his attention drifts away from her.
Nicci knows how to bide her time. The Keeper has taught her that.
The Keeper is waiting for Rahl, the storm's fury nothing to his at Rahl's betrayal. Even his fury at Nicci is as nothing to that, and Nicci will endure her former Master's displeasure if it means Rahl will suffer beside her.
Unlike the summer storm overhead, her fury will not abate, will not subside or spend itself. Not until it has scoured this land free of the curse that is Darken Rahl.
Author: alyse
Fandom: Legend of the Seeker
Rating: G
Characters: Nicci
Word Count: 300
Disclaimer: Original source and characters belong to Terry Goodkind and Disney/ABC. This is a not for profit fanfiction, written for sheer love of the show.
Author's Notes: Written for the
legendland marathon challenge, using the prompt 'thunderstorm'Summary: Nicci can feel it, the fury of the encroaching storm.
-o-
The sky overhead is growing darker and Nicci can feel it, the fury of the encroaching storm singing in her blood, rising up inside her until her fingertips are tingling and her heart is racing with it.
She - who has hated life for so long - feels alive, more alive than she can ever remember, alive when she is nothing but the walking dead. Her hair is slippery against her skin, tendrils rising to halo her head, dancing in the air, stirred here and there by the waves of powers surging through the atmosphere.
She reaches for it, that power, the act as instinctive, unstudied, as breathing… and is stopped, brought short by the Rada'han fastened firmly around her neck.
Darken's laugh is as dark, as stormy, as the looming horizon, a bitter kind of joy flashing through it.
"My poor witch," he mocks, and Nicci's fingers curl in impotent fury, wrath lighting her up from the inside. "Is there something that you're missing?"
Her anger does no good. For now, Rahl holds all the cards, the better hand in a game Nicci is only now learning how to play. She cannot win - yet - and so she subsides, sinking back down to her knees and staying there, head bowed, until his attention drifts away from her.
Nicci knows how to bide her time. The Keeper has taught her that.
The Keeper is waiting for Rahl, the storm's fury nothing to his at Rahl's betrayal. Even his fury at Nicci is as nothing to that, and Nicci will endure her former Master's displeasure if it means Rahl will suffer beside her.
Unlike the summer storm overhead, her fury will not abate, will not subside or spend itself. Not until it has scoured this land free of the curse that is Darken Rahl.