Hellsing microfiction
Mar. 2nd, 2005 11:54 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lykomancerThis is for dreadnot who requested something in the vein of "The Second Time".
My brain spat this out (ok, this, and that really bad pun in the last sentence).
When Walter returned to the manor three days later, he already knew that the leadership of the Hellsing Organization had changed hands yet again.
Walking across the threshold of the manor and stepping onto the tile floors, he knew something else almost immediately-- something that explained much of the strange and ominous subtext of the telegram.
It was such a unique sensation, and yet so familiar he could almost taste the faint flavor of cigarette smoke and death in the back of his throat, though he'd not smoked in over a decade and grown less accustomed to the latter after being pulled from Hellsing's front line after the war. Deja vu... There was a certain preternatural, predatory stillness in the dimly-lit front hall, and his heartbeat rolled through the silence like a timpani drum.
Walter licked his lips with a dry, raspy tongue and stepped forward, steadfastly ignoring his body's more primal instincts shrieking their alarm, then smiled lightly, not showing his teeth. Warring emotions swept through him, chaotic as barbarian invasions, but he showed none but that which allowed his lips to turn upward politely and in good humor. To do anything other was dangerous.
"Alucard."
The name fell into the deeping silence like a stone into ancient haunted well, and the horror waiting within let loose a soft, velvety chuckle. There was only the softest rustle as the No-Life-King separated himself from the shadows, his bared white teeth and coal-bright eyes gleaming with repressed amusement. The grinning monster stepped closer.
Walter's stomach rolled over like a diving fighter plane and his heart pounded out another heavy beat like thunder. Not the same, and yet not different. Still beautiful and still deadly and never anything other. Sweat dampened his brow.
The shadow fell over him, and he closed his eyes, trying to fight off past's stranglehold on the present.
"Welcome home, Shinigami."
dreadnot who requested something in the vein of "The Second Time". My brain spat this out (ok, this, and that really bad pun in the last sentence).
When Walter returned to the manor three days later, he already knew that the leadership of the Hellsing Organization had changed hands yet again.
Walking across the threshold of the manor and stepping onto the tile floors, he knew something else almost immediately-- something that explained much of the strange and ominous subtext of the telegram.
It was such a unique sensation, and yet so familiar he could almost taste the faint flavor of cigarette smoke and death in the back of his throat, though he'd not smoked in over a decade and grown less accustomed to the latter after being pulled from Hellsing's front line after the war. Deja vu... There was a certain preternatural, predatory stillness in the dimly-lit front hall, and his heartbeat rolled through the silence like a timpani drum.
Walter licked his lips with a dry, raspy tongue and stepped forward, steadfastly ignoring his body's more primal instincts shrieking their alarm, then smiled lightly, not showing his teeth. Warring emotions swept through him, chaotic as barbarian invasions, but he showed none but that which allowed his lips to turn upward politely and in good humor. To do anything other was dangerous.
"Alucard."
The name fell into the deeping silence like a stone into ancient haunted well, and the horror waiting within let loose a soft, velvety chuckle. There was only the softest rustle as the No-Life-King separated himself from the shadows, his bared white teeth and coal-bright eyes gleaming with repressed amusement. The grinning monster stepped closer.
Walter's stomach rolled over like a diving fighter plane and his heart pounded out another heavy beat like thunder. Not the same, and yet not different. Still beautiful and still deadly and never anything other. Sweat dampened his brow.
The shadow fell over him, and he closed his eyes, trying to fight off past's stranglehold on the present.
"Welcome home, Shinigami."
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no subject
Date: 2005-03-03 09:46 am (UTC)Thank you so much for writing this. <3
no subject
Date: 2005-03-03 10:54 pm (UTC)Ja!