A teaser

Sep. 23rd, 2010 04:16 pm
sermocinare: (Just a little bit weird)
OK. Since I can't do any actual work at the moment and the damn plotbunnies won't leave me alone, have a teaser. I don't have a title for this yet, and I can't promise anything in regards to this fic (especially not if it will ever get finished), so, consider yourselves warned. Not crossposting this anywhere yet.

Fandom: Watchmen/Silent Hill
Title: ???
Rating: G for this part
Characters/Pairings: Adrian. No pairings as of yet.
Disclaimer: Watchmen belongs to Mr. Moore and Mr. Gibbons. Silent Hill belongs to Konami.
Summary: Welcome to Silent Hill, Adrian.

It had been five years, almost to the day )
sermocinare: (Red-haired Mal)
And because of this, here's something that's been going through my mind for quite some time now. A snippet of the never-written novel. Some of you might recognize the main character. He will hate me for this.


The young officer flopped down onto his narrow bed with a deep, heart-filled groan, tossing his helmet to the floor, where it joined the rest of his gear. All he wanted to do right now was sleep, and maybe, just maybe, he would get his wish.
But apparently, the Gods were not on his side today, because just as he was getting comfortable on the matress, he heard a voice from the door. As usual, the owner of said voice hadn't bothered with knocking:
"Salve, Draco. So, how'd the campaign go?"
He growled slightly, not bothering to get up from his comfortable position:
"I don't want to talk about it, Tib. And by the way, just because you grew up in a tent doesn't mean you can just come barging in here."
Tibius raised his eyebrows, shaking his head slightly:
"Tsk. Someone seems to be in a very bad mood. And I don't have to be an empath to figure that out." Moving into the room, he pushed aside the discarded helmet with his foot, and sat down on the corner of the bed, grinning:
"I think it is my paramount duty as morale officer and best friend to cheer you up a bit. So, what're we going to do? Baths? Tavern?" The grin widened: "Orgy?"
"I don't know what you're going to be doing," Draco answered, rubbing his face with both hands and yawning, "but I'm not leaving this bed for the rest of the day."
"Suits me." Tibius regarded his friend with an impish leer, moving slightly closer.
"Get off my bed you damned sex maniac!" the other man roared, and within a split second, Tibius was pushed to the floor, laughing.
"I knew you still had some energy in you, Dracs. So quit the act and let's get going. You need to get your mind off whatever it was that's put you in you little cloud of gloom."
The dark-haird soldier scowled at his friend: "You're fucking insufferable, you know that?" But then he spread his hands in a gesture of  capitulation, a grin forming around the edges of his lips: "I give up. I mean, after all, you won't leave me alone until you're satisfied with my mood, so..." he ran a hand through his hair, "baths? And then we'll see. But," he raised a finger at Tibius, "no orgy. Absolutely not. I still remember the last time. Or rather, I don't remember much of the last time, which is even worse."
Tibius shrugged, and tried unsuccessfully to look innocent of whatever debauchery his friend was accusing him of: "All right, no orgy." Getting up from the floor, he quickly dusted off his pants and moved towards the door: "Meet you at the bathhouse in half an hour, then."
"Mhm." With that, Draco let himself fall back on the bed, shaking his head once more. Well, a long, relaxing soak in the water would be nice, after all.
sermocinare: (Default)
Creativity's still not running smoothly. Ah, well.

Anyway, I've been tossing around this idea since last year's NaNoWriMo. It's sort of Charmed/Dresden Files-esque, read, people with supernatural abilities living in the modern world, alongside normal people, who for most don't know about the supernaturals. The setting? A university, where normal people study normal subjects, and the supernaturals also get to fine-tune their supernatural powers alongside studying stuff like literature or physics. This idea is also based off an idea me and my friends entertained during our first year... that our physics professor was really a vampire :P yeah, we were pretty bored during lectures.

Now I'm trying to cross-breed that idea with something that's been running around in my head for the last two days. Sometimes, a very small scene will pop into my head, demanding attention.
"All right, that should do it. Now all we need is..." she winced "a dead man's finger."
"A what?!"
"A dead man's finger." She looked at the others apologetically. "I told you this was a very old recipie. They tend to be a bit, well, strange. Bat's eyes, toad's blood and all that. Most of the stuff can be substituted with something less creepy nowadays, but I'd rather follow this one down to the letter. After all," her voice grew stern, "we can't afford to mess this up."
"And where are we supposed to get something like that?"
"Well," the werewolf grinned, "Stephen could bring along one from tomorrow's anatomy lesson."
"The fuck I will!"  The necromancer shot him an angry glance.
There was a crunching noise, and the zombie's hand appeared next to the witche's head: "Will this do?"
Kerry's eyes widened, and she hurriedly turned her attention away from the small bloody stump towards Stephen, who pulled a face, then shrugged:
"Well, he is dead, even if he's reanimated. So it should work."
He gave the zombie a slightly worried look, but the creature just shrugged, then smiled at him: "Don't worry, young master. I can get myself a new one." The smile widened to a grin, which sent a small shiver down Stephen's spine: "Just do me a favour and don't ask where."

I've always liked zombies. And the idea that there's this young apprentice necromancer, who inherited a zombie from his teacher (who got murdered - yay plot?), is pretty amusing. Especially if the zombie's a sort of family heirloom - he's been around for four generations, and actually knows a lot more about the art of necromancy than his young master. But since he doesn't have any magical talent, he can't really do anything with this knowledge, and since he is bound to his master by some occult force, he has to tag along with this boy who's not even a full-blown necromancer yet. Which annoys the creature a tad *g* and leads to him poking and teasing his "young master" a lot.

Edit: Another zombie snippet which just popped into my mind!

"Whoa. Wait a minute. Jarod is a zombie?"
Kerry frowned, turning towards Stephen, who was studying the grass between his feet.
"Yeah." The young necromancer nodded, scratching the back of his neck, still not looking at anybody.
"But I thought they were, like, forbidden?"
"Uh, well, they are." Stephen drew a deep breath, finally raising his eyes to meet those of his friends. "Technically. The Reanimation Act of 1923 forbids necromancers from re-animating anybody who's been legally declared dead. Not that it happened a lot before," he hastily added, "I mean, really, it's not as if we'd been creating zombies left and right, it's a very difficult process and takes a lot of energy and... err, yeah, Jarod, see, he's older than that. And the Reanimation Act also states that any zombie created before the 14. October of 1923 is allowed to remain animated as long as it's bound to someone. And Jarod has been, err, passed down the generations, sort of..."
"Some family heirloom."

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