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slashthedrabble May. 7th, 2010 12:35 pm)
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Title: The effect of wounding
Prompt: cause and effect
Word Count: 100
Alexander/Hephaistion
“You turn away from me so easily, Hephaistion. Am I not the one you’ve sworn your heart to?”
“Yes, but my heart aches with the pain of being broken.”
“Does it still belong to me?”
“Of course, but the heart is no different than any other living creature. When it’s wounded, it needs time to heal.”
“Will it come back to me when it’s healed?”
“Yes.”
“And can I not do something to help staunch the pain of its breaking?”
“No. Return to your wife, Alexander, I promise you when my heart is ready, we’ll both return to your arms.”
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Title: The cause of death
Prompt: cause and effect
Word Count: 100
Alexander/Hephaistion
Time stood still or at least that appeared to be the case for Alexander. He cared not for anything anymore, not people or places or things. As long as the wine kept flowing he could live the miserable existence that had become his life.
He rebuffed any and all attempts at calming his madness, of alleviating what ailed him, but how by the gods did anyone propose to fix what had happened? How did all the men and healers in the entire world intend on bringing back the one thing that mattered? In his own mind, Alexander was already dead.
Prompt: cause and effect
Word Count: 100
Alexander/Hephaistion
“You turn away from me so easily, Hephaistion. Am I not the one you’ve sworn your heart to?”
“Yes, but my heart aches with the pain of being broken.”
“Does it still belong to me?”
“Of course, but the heart is no different than any other living creature. When it’s wounded, it needs time to heal.”
“Will it come back to me when it’s healed?”
“Yes.”
“And can I not do something to help staunch the pain of its breaking?”
“No. Return to your wife, Alexander, I promise you when my heart is ready, we’ll both return to your arms.”
Title: The cause of death
Prompt: cause and effect
Word Count: 100
Alexander/Hephaistion
Time stood still or at least that appeared to be the case for Alexander. He cared not for anything anymore, not people or places or things. As long as the wine kept flowing he could live the miserable existence that had become his life.
He rebuffed any and all attempts at calming his madness, of alleviating what ailed him, but how by the gods did anyone propose to fix what had happened? How did all the men and healers in the entire world intend on bringing back the one thing that mattered? In his own mind, Alexander was already dead.
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