get your words out } { challenge collection thingie

[iluvroadrunner6]

Collection post for flash fic, stop drop and write challenges, etc. etc.

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1/28/15 | stop, drop and write | 417 words

[iluvroadrunner6]

"It could be purple."

It's a repetition of what you just said five minutes earlier, but it's the tone that's changed. Instead of doubt and revulsion, it's an air of calm consideration, and you turn to the man standing next to you, regarding him almost as though he's grown a second head. Then, you turn back to the piles of cake in front of you and giving it a second glance.

"It could?"

"It could." Ben shifts to cross his arms in front of his chest, leaning back against the counter casually as though this is a consideration he made every day. "It could be a giant purple ... monstrosity of a cake. She'd love it."

"You only say this because you don't have to eat it."

"No offense, Lena, I love you to pieces, but if you were baking it, there was no way I was going near that thing."

Your eyes narrow in response to that, almost as though you're offended by the sheer audacity of the statement. "I can cook!"

"Yes, you're an excellent cook. But cooking and baking are two very different beasts, and ... honestly I'm not too sure about this one." His hand comes up to brush against his chin, considering the options in front of him quietly. "Also, you're missing the fact that our daughter, gem that she is, is a grand total of five years old. She's not looking for incredibly beautiful cake art. She just wants to consume as much sugar as her tiny little body will allow without exploding and then proceed to bounce off the walls like a pinball until the demon inside her is sated."

You turn another look on him, this one milder than the ones previously. It's mostly because you know he's right. The only reason they're actually able to have this conversation calmly is because it's after midnight and Clarissa has been in sleep for the hours which the cake was baking. Otherwise, they would be out a cake and be up after midnight trying to coerce her into some kind of sleep. You sigh heavily, turning your attention back to the cake and considering carefully for a moment.

Then you stop, take a step back so that you're leaning next to him, and consider it some more.

"It could be purple."

"See? Knew you'd see it my way."

You don't even skip a beat before taking the piping bag of frosting and squirting some of the white frosting on his face.

4/16/15 | stop, drop and write | 496 words

[iluvroadrunner6]

She should have known what he was going to do before he did it. They listed off the ingredients of their spell, and she should have made the connection before it happened, protected him while she still could, said that there needed to be another way. Yet she underestimates Klaus the way he underestimates her, even though they are cut from the same cloth.

Sacrificed by a mother who did not know how to love. Torn from a father who could have been the only love they'd ever known. Left with hollow shells of parents who believed themselves to be their betters, to know what was best for them without ever asking them. The only difference being while Mikael was open about his hatred for Niklaus, Dahlia believed the things she forced Freya to do, the twisted ways she manipulated and contained her were all out of love.

(She's not entirely sure which is worse. Then again, she never knew the sharp sword of Mikael's hatred the way the rest of her siblings did.)

None of that seems to matter now.

She's left alone with the ashes of her father after the rest of her siblings have gone, mourning him in a way that none of them ever did. It's a pain that rips through her like a blade, her last hope for something happy in this world where she doesn't belong gone like a puff of smoke. All that she has left now is her mission, her vengeance, the satisfaction of seeing Dahlia's blood on her hands, even it drags Freya down with her. She lays the last of her humanity down on the site where her father died because she now has nothing left to lose.

Once the tears are done and the pain has stopped, she gathers Mikael carefully, respectfully into a bag to carry him, keeping her close to her as she does Finn, all to aware now that they are playing a game where all the cards are on the table and everything is expendable. She is all too aware of the similarities between herself and her half-brother (she has been counting on them since the moment she arrived, anger for anger, vengeance for vengeance, hate for hate), but she miscounted his thousand years of experience to see the playing board with the kind of detachment needed for a war like this one. Klaus looks at the world and sees chess pieces to be moved, all capable of making sacrifices to protect their king, all understanding what needs to be done in order to achieve what he wants.

Defeating Dahlia and protecting his daughter.

And that's fine. Freya may not have her brother's guile and cunning, his experience with war, but she now has nothing left to lose. All she has now is Dahlia's destruction and enough hate and anger that she can easily play the same game. And she will end Dahlia, once and for all.

By whatever means necessary.