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So, I just posted rec number THREE HUNDRED at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
stargateficrec.
Whee!!!
To celebrate, I hereby declare that this coming Sunday will be Gen Fic Day! We did one of these back in October, and it was a marvelous success: here's the round-up of all the contributions.
This Sunday, post something - anything - that's gen. A new story, commentfic, a WIP, a gen rec. Comment at this post with the link, or paste it in directly. On Monday, I'll post a round-up of what will hopefully be lots and lots of great gen fic! And I commit myself now to get all my ficlets done by then, so I can contribute properly. :)
I'll post a reminder Sunday morning, but in the meantime, spread the word to your flists: Gen Fic Day! Because gen is all-inclusive, and there's SG-1 love enough (but not that kind!) to go around.
stargateficrec.Whee!!!
To celebrate, I hereby declare that this coming Sunday will be Gen Fic Day! We did one of these back in October, and it was a marvelous success: here's the round-up of all the contributions.
This Sunday, post something - anything - that's gen. A new story, commentfic, a WIP, a gen rec. Comment at this post with the link, or paste it in directly. On Monday, I'll post a round-up of what will hopefully be lots and lots of great gen fic! And I commit myself now to get all my ficlets done by then, so I can contribute properly. :)
I'll post a reminder Sunday morning, but in the meantime, spread the word to your flists: Gen Fic Day! Because gen is all-inclusive, and there's SG-1 love enough (but not that kind!) to go around.
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That is very, very, very awesome :)
(wow, was the last one all the way back in October? Feels like yesterday....)
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Girls (and Jaffa) Do Not Fight Fair (http://kalquessa.livejournal.com/496432.html)
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What a great way to wake up this morning - with the fun already started! :)
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Conversations (http://yviwriting.livejournal.com/3345.html)
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***
Mourning
by Yvi
There were three loud knocks at at the door. It was only 8 in the morning on a free Saturday and normally, Janet wouldn’t have been up by this point and therefore not heard the knock. But she had gone to bed early with exhaustion and at 7 found that she could not sleep any longer. There was nothing for her to do around the house, so she had just been sitting in the kitchen, reading the paper.
Janet was almost sure who she would find at the door at such an hour on a Saturday. And especially on a Saturday after a week like this.
“Hey Janet.” Samantha Carter didn’t look into her eyes and a greeting that would normally sound cheerful came out sounding like a defeat.
“Sam, please come in.” Janet held the door open for Sam and closed it softly behind her as to not wake Cassie, who was sound asleep in the back of the house.
Janet had released Sam two days earlier, but as of yet Sam had not really talked to anyone about her experience as far as she was aware. She had been worried because of it and gotten Sam to agree to see someone about it, but there had been nothing more she could have done.
Sam went straight to the kitchen and Janet followed her. Sam sat down on one of the chairs around the table.
“Do you want some coffee?” Janet asked and Sam nodded. She started to prepare coffee for both of them in silence, until she just had to speak. “How are you, Sam?” She help up her arm to silence the other women. “And don’t give me that ‘I am fine’ bullshit. You come here on a Saturday morning at this hour, you are not fine.”
There was silence for a moment. “No, I suppose I am not.” Sam looked up at Janet.
There were no tears, Sam rarely if ever cried, but there was such obvious sadness that it broke Janet’s heart to look at her friend.
Janet quickly poured coffee into two big mugs and sat them at the table before she pulled up a chair to sit next to Sam. She didn’t quite know what to say, so she just put an arm around Sam’s shoulder.
Sam took her coffee mug and held it tight. “Everyone expects me to be relieved.” It was almost a whisper.
“No one expects anything from you, honey.” Janet softly stroked Sam’s arm.
“It’s so empty. I know it sounds silly. But I feel empty.” Sam sipped on her coffee. There were tears in her voice, but not in her eyes. Janet knew this way of handling loss from herself. She was military, too, after all.
“I am so sorry, Sam,” she said and it sounded hallow in her own ears. There really was not much anyone could say to comfort Sam right now.
Sam looked at Janet. And suddenly, a sad smile appeared on her face. “Let’s drink to her.”
And Janet understood. There would be no burial for Jolinar, no memorial, no place where Sam could mourn. But she needed something.
“To Jolinar.” Janet raised her mug. It didn’t seem silly to her, even though it probably would look like that to an outsider – sitting in a kitchen on a Saturday, raising coffee mugs to honour a dead member of a race they didn’t understand.
“To Jolinar.” Sam said and raised her own mug. She opened her mouth as if to say something else, but then shook her head and brought the mug to her moth.
To Jolinar of Malkshur, who died to save my friend’s life – who was a part of my friend. Who she will always carry around with her.
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A great tribute to Sam, to Janet, and even to the Tok'ra, bless their twisty and annoying hearts. )
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(and, okay, the first mentions R'yac and Ka'ryn and the second is very much circling around the fact that Jack and Sara were married but, um, I think they're still gen :) )
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Last stop: This town (http://community.livejournal.com/sg_ep_ficathon/7061.html) by
Post Heroes - Cassandra finds silence with Teal'c.
More Trouble Than a texas twister (http://community.livejournal.com/sg1teamficathon/17667.html) by
The SG1 team in quarantine. For a month.
Of Belonging to Another (http://pellucid.livejournal.com/151898.html) by
A faint ache remains, like a memory of an old wound. Sam, Vala and Sarah.
And I suck at HTML today.
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Come ride a train, choo choo train (http://beanpot.livejournal.com/53590.html#cutid1)
Tis Vala and Jonas and written based on
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**********************************
He existed only as pain. I hurt, therefore I am. He felt muffled, restricted. He tried to move, felt- an arm. He had an arm? He opened eyes and it was too much, too bright, but the dazzle faded, and he could see it. Pale, unmarked. Why was it surprising that he had an arm?
There were voices, shouting, and several people shouted at him. Talked to him? Like the light, his ears adjusted to the excess of noise and he realized it wasn't really that loud. And he understood it.
"Who are you?" the older man with kind eyes asked.
Who was he? The man groped for a name, identifier, label, came up empty. "I don't know," he said. He looked at them, his brow furrowing with concentration. "I don't know."
They wrapped him in a pair of cloaks, emptied leather bags to make makeshift coverings for his feet. As warmth seeped into the pale limbs that still seemed a little remote, he realized that he wasn't hurt, he was cold.
Two of the men built a small fire, and left him to huddle over it, as they went about their day's tasks. They gathered nuts and berries, he was told, while several others of the men hunted with short throwing spears. The catch of the day was good, several small furry animals were skinned and brought back, along with a cloak used as a makeshift sack filled with nuts replacing the bags the man wore on his feet.
They led him back to their resting place slowly, as he was likely to trip. He found more words around their path. Tree, bush, path, walk. Sky, cloud, wall.. the camp was made in the ruins of an ancient city. Some of the walls bore faint writing that drew the man like a moth to a flame.
"Who are you?" a woman asked. "Where did you come from?"
"He does not know," Shamda said. "We found him in the forest, near the round arches," he plucked at the man's sleeve. "When we found him, he was naked. He needs clothes."
"And what will we do with him then? A man with no memory is little more use than an infant, except he eats more," she looked at the man with disfavor.
"I can do things," the man protested. "At least I think.. " his gaze wandered back to the wall. "I can read the words written there," he pointed.
"And what use is that?" the woman snorted. "We cannot eat words."
"What do they say?" Shambda asked curiously.
"This was a city square," the man said. "It was dedicated to the memory of a healer. She worked on many worlds to bring health to the people."
"Worlds?" the younger man said. "There is only the world, how could there be another?"
The man blinked at him. "I don't know."
(continued in the next comment)
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The man could hear the kindness behind the rough impatience and practicality. He sank down on a carved stone and smiled at her. The savory smell from the bowl reached his nose and his stomach growled in response. "Thank you. I am hungry."
The woman softened further. "And aren't men always hungry? All you ever do is eat. Yes," she gestured to Khordib. "I mean you. Get along and give those nuts to Alia and come back for your dinner."
Khordib smiled at her, and said, "Yes, old mother," and dodged her affectionate smack on the head as he threaded his way among the throng of people.
"Naked one," the old woman said, "Do you-" she broke off as she met his eyes and exclaimed. She put a hand under his chin and tipped his face toward her. He looked obediently up, puzzled. "Look at his eyes! " she said. "They are the color of sky! Never have I seen such a thing!"
The man looked at her, "Is something wrong?"
"It happens sometimes that a child is born with pale skin or odd colored eyes," Shambda said. "There is no harm in it."
"Is it not said that pale ones should not bare their faces to the sun?" a younger woman asked.
"He is not so pale as all that," Shamda said. "And his eyes are blue, not red."
Pale ones with red eyes, "I'm not albino," the man said. "I don't think the sun will harm me, in moderation."
"Albino?" the man questioned. "It is a strange word you have for the pale ones."
The man realized that the word was somehow wrong.. it had the right meaning, but it didn't belong with the other words he was speaking. He couldn't exactly express the feeling though. Shambda was turning to the younger woman. "Will you-"
"I will go find clothes for Beautiful Eyes, here," she said, smiling at him.
The man felt warmth wash over his cheeks. "I think I preferred being called Naked One," he said, inspiring another wave of chuckles.
"Then that is what we will call you," Shambda said. "Arrom, be welcome at our hearth."
*
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Delightful original characters, especially the "old mother." Any Redbyrd snippet is a pleasure. :)
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Even though I'd hoped to actually *finish* a *story* before my weekend got eaten. Grump.
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BTW, naked Daniel is never a wrong thing for a contribution from my forays into fandom. ;-) I agree with fig, I can see him going with naked one rather than the alternative. LOL Aw, sweet interaction.
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