Only Two Colors
Jun. 6th, 2003 01:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ursulaThe end of the story.
The difference between bone and stone is that bone still has blood inside; but water runs under stone, and inside stone, in so many places that the division blurs, and mud and flesh are universally confused. Thus when Theo returned to the bleak room she stood still a moment, wondering whether white angles or black angles made Prue. With her eyes closed, though, she could feel the dryness and the cracks. Destruction is easy, even in the land of death; and so it was only a second or two before the stone broke all the way down, and Prue was leaping free.
The stone went on breaking, heaving and cracking like fireworks. Jagged edges of chair and floor pushed toward the ceiling. Something was rising out of the floor, all edges and sparks.
“Break it!” Prue yelled.
Theo only succeeded in pulling a spiked lizardy tail from the floor. Prue kicked it, but the creature was oblivious. They waited a moment, circling, hoping a joint or angle or twist of neck would bare itself. There were only spikes and armor plates.
The heavy tail smashed against the ground. A bowed leg rose behind Prue; she kicked again, jumped away, dodged in again to swing from a spike for a long second. The tail crashed down again, near Theo this time. She twitched away, breathing deep. It followed, pounding; and again the cracks were frozen, the edges stuck. Her breath could not make a wedge. Prue howled; Theo felt the snap in her own bones as Prue’s knife broke.
“It hasn’t got blood!” Prue was bleeding herself, in long streaks running down her arms.
“So give it some!”
“You’re the witch!”
But Theo was dodging the tail, forth and back, till she was nearly at the edge of the room. She fled along the side, then, letting the tail thump and thump again. A familiar pattern, her own breath, her own heartbeat trapped long in a white chair. She heard Prue scream as a spike scraped past, and then–-
“Now!”
Prue slammed hard into the belly, broken knife in hand, and kept on pushing. Soft suddenly, all mud and grime. Her blood. Their blood, pouring out of its heart. Even dead creatures die at last.
They didn’t need to look at each other; they just set off running, out of the house, along the road, through a pale, carved gate and then up, up, into the light again. The white stone creature slumped in the room alone.
They were best friends. They killed things. That was, when you came down to it, what really mattered.
The difference between bone and stone is that bone still has blood inside; but water runs under stone, and inside stone, in so many places that the division blurs, and mud and flesh are universally confused. Thus when Theo returned to the bleak room she stood still a moment, wondering whether white angles or black angles made Prue. With her eyes closed, though, she could feel the dryness and the cracks. Destruction is easy, even in the land of death; and so it was only a second or two before the stone broke all the way down, and Prue was leaping free.
The stone went on breaking, heaving and cracking like fireworks. Jagged edges of chair and floor pushed toward the ceiling. Something was rising out of the floor, all edges and sparks.
“Break it!” Prue yelled.
Theo only succeeded in pulling a spiked lizardy tail from the floor. Prue kicked it, but the creature was oblivious. They waited a moment, circling, hoping a joint or angle or twist of neck would bare itself. There were only spikes and armor plates.
The heavy tail smashed against the ground. A bowed leg rose behind Prue; she kicked again, jumped away, dodged in again to swing from a spike for a long second. The tail crashed down again, near Theo this time. She twitched away, breathing deep. It followed, pounding; and again the cracks were frozen, the edges stuck. Her breath could not make a wedge. Prue howled; Theo felt the snap in her own bones as Prue’s knife broke.
“It hasn’t got blood!” Prue was bleeding herself, in long streaks running down her arms.
“So give it some!”
“You’re the witch!”
But Theo was dodging the tail, forth and back, till she was nearly at the edge of the room. She fled along the side, then, letting the tail thump and thump again. A familiar pattern, her own breath, her own heartbeat trapped long in a white chair. She heard Prue scream as a spike scraped past, and then–-
“Now!”
Prue slammed hard into the belly, broken knife in hand, and kept on pushing. Soft suddenly, all mud and grime. Her blood. Their blood, pouring out of its heart. Even dead creatures die at last.
They didn’t need to look at each other; they just set off running, out of the house, along the road, through a pale, carved gate and then up, up, into the light again. The white stone creature slumped in the room alone.
They were best friends. They killed things. That was, when you came down to it, what really mattered.