January drabbles: Anya
Jan. 8th, 2007 08:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
beer_good_foamyEight! And my muse has gone completely insane. I thought I'd have trouble writing a single drabble on Anya - here's four.
Title: Four Drabbles About Anya (Or Whatever Her Name Is)
Author: Beer Good (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
beer_good_foamy)
Rating: PG13
Character: Anya
Word count: 400
Aud
Aud loves to fall asleep on Olaf's chest, listening to his tales about life as a Viking. About the high seas. About battles. About the blood-stained gold they bring back. About ravens feasting upon the flesh of their enemies. About valkyries, the winged women who bring fallen heroes up to Valhalla to dine with Odin until the end of the world.
Even about women that he, Torbjörn and Erik made merry sport with.
Because he changed. He gave up all of that for her.
Every night she falls asleep on his chest and knows it will always be like this.
Anyanka
"She wished WHAT?"
"I know. Isn't it exciting?"
"Damn. Even I think that's extreme."
"'Extreme', Hallie? Did you hear how many servant girls he slept with? He deserves to pay."
"Yes, but... Anyanka, honey, this is... Do you realize how many women and children will suffer with him?"
"That's too bad, but what am I gonna do? They wish it, we dish it – not much room for interpretation here. Besides, historically speaking, invasions are unavoidable anyway."
"Fine, but where are you going to find a horde of pillaging invaders?"
"I've asked around. Seems there's this guy in Mongolia named Genghis..."
Anya
They're coming.
The floor shakes.
The lockers lining the wall shake.
Andrew shakes.
Her hands don't.
She stands.
She thinks about the times she ran. She thinks about the times she made others run. She thinks about how easy it is to go along. She thinks about how easy it is to kill from a distance. She thinks about rumours, curses, diseases, revolutions, hordes, wars, apocalypses.
They're coming.
She thinks about Buffy.
She thinks about Xander.
She thinks about Olaf. She's still angry with him; she wouldn't be Anya otherwise.
She thinks about herself.
She stands.
She falls.
She stands.
Aud
Willow is still loopy, her mind fizzing and popping with pure white energy and victory. But the fog lifts, and suddenly she's aware that Xander is slowly sitting down on the dusty highway out of Sunnydale. She counts heads and realizes.
She holds him. They don't speak or cry, not yet; it hurts too much.
"Hey, what's that?" Dawn, squinting at the bright sky.
All of them, even Xander, look up. They can almost, but not quite, make out the shapes of ancient women. Giant, invisible wings flapping. Descending into the crater, then rising again.
They bow to the valkyries.
Title: Four Drabbles About Anya (Or Whatever Her Name Is)
Author: Beer Good (
beer_good_foamy)Rating: PG13
Character: Anya
Word count: 400
Aud
Aud loves to fall asleep on Olaf's chest, listening to his tales about life as a Viking. About the high seas. About battles. About the blood-stained gold they bring back. About ravens feasting upon the flesh of their enemies. About valkyries, the winged women who bring fallen heroes up to Valhalla to dine with Odin until the end of the world.
Even about women that he, Torbjörn and Erik made merry sport with.
Because he changed. He gave up all of that for her.
Every night she falls asleep on his chest and knows it will always be like this.
Anyanka
"She wished WHAT?"
"I know. Isn't it exciting?"
"Damn. Even I think that's extreme."
"'Extreme', Hallie? Did you hear how many servant girls he slept with? He deserves to pay."
"Yes, but... Anyanka, honey, this is... Do you realize how many women and children will suffer with him?"
"That's too bad, but what am I gonna do? They wish it, we dish it – not much room for interpretation here. Besides, historically speaking, invasions are unavoidable anyway."
"Fine, but where are you going to find a horde of pillaging invaders?"
"I've asked around. Seems there's this guy in Mongolia named Genghis..."
Anya
They're coming.
The floor shakes.
The lockers lining the wall shake.
Andrew shakes.
Her hands don't.
She stands.
She thinks about the times she ran. She thinks about the times she made others run. She thinks about how easy it is to go along. She thinks about how easy it is to kill from a distance. She thinks about rumours, curses, diseases, revolutions, hordes, wars, apocalypses.
They're coming.
She thinks about Buffy.
She thinks about Xander.
She thinks about Olaf. She's still angry with him; she wouldn't be Anya otherwise.
She thinks about herself.
She stands.
She falls.
She stands.
Aud
Willow is still loopy, her mind fizzing and popping with pure white energy and victory. But the fog lifts, and suddenly she's aware that Xander is slowly sitting down on the dusty highway out of Sunnydale. She counts heads and realizes.
She holds him. They don't speak or cry, not yet; it hurts too much.
"Hey, what's that?" Dawn, squinting at the bright sky.
All of them, even Xander, look up. They can almost, but not quite, make out the shapes of ancient women. Giant, invisible wings flapping. Descending into the crater, then rising again.
They bow to the valkyries.
