two drabbles for The 100
Jun. 28th, 2015 01:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
vaznettiIt's kind of shame that the days of the drabble community are done, because there could be one for The 100, and it could be called The 100 100s! I would have laughed, anyway.
Here are two drabbles, both set post season 2. I would really appreciate some comments before I release them into the wilderness of tumblr, especially as I am only now starting to catch up on Season 1.
Both gen, both suitable for all.
1.
On the station only what they planted grew. Here weeds take over rows of tiny seedlings, and leaves wither in the chilling air. The sunlight isn’t strong enough to feed the vats of algae Kane had hoped would help them through the winter; he checks their food stores, guarded against panic, and watches hunting parties come back empty-handed. Roots can be dug up, berries dried and nuts hoarded, this world’s grudging bounty. His people have enough to last, with care, if their knowledge of the seasons is correct, but what have they known yet about this earth that was correct?
2.
What the Skaikru don’t know frightens Lexa: they don’t know how to be defeated. They can lose – lose their people, lose their homes – but only for a night, a moon’s turn, a season. When the sun comes new, they come up too, last season’s failure banished like they banished Clarke for making the Mountain fall. Lexa had thought that they might take those tunnels over, restore the awful balance they’d destroyed. Now she watches from a distance as they build their shelters, measure out their fields; she sees a woman grow thick around the waist. They are not moving on.
Here are two drabbles, both set post season 2. I would really appreciate some comments before I release them into the wilderness of tumblr, especially as I am only now starting to catch up on Season 1.
Both gen, both suitable for all.
1.
On the station only what they planted grew. Here weeds take over rows of tiny seedlings, and leaves wither in the chilling air. The sunlight isn’t strong enough to feed the vats of algae Kane had hoped would help them through the winter; he checks their food stores, guarded against panic, and watches hunting parties come back empty-handed. Roots can be dug up, berries dried and nuts hoarded, this world’s grudging bounty. His people have enough to last, with care, if their knowledge of the seasons is correct, but what have they known yet about this earth that was correct?
2.
What the Skaikru don’t know frightens Lexa: they don’t know how to be defeated. They can lose – lose their people, lose their homes – but only for a night, a moon’s turn, a season. When the sun comes new, they come up too, last season’s failure banished like they banished Clarke for making the Mountain fall. Lexa had thought that they might take those tunnels over, restore the awful balance they’d destroyed. Now she watches from a distance as they build their shelters, measure out their fields; she sees a woman grow thick around the waist. They are not moving on.
