untitled drabble #17

Title: untilted drabble #17
Rating: PG
Words: 467
Pairing/Charecter(s): Ancient!John, sentient!Atlantis; background John/Rodney,
Warnings/Spoliers: this drabble can takes place, chronologically, anywhere in the Ancient!John 'verse, though in my head it falls after "Socii"
Disclaimer: Title 17 of the US Code, § 107, aka the Fair Use Doctrine.
Summary: It's not a thing, not really
Notes: How the frell did we get to #17? IDK, but this was supposed to be the start to the next insallment... and got out of hand. Or something. Anyway, we're celebrating my last day of work today... and I'm still taking suggetions for the mix I'm creating for this 'verse.


An Ancient!John Story

Nec mortem effugere quisquam nec amorem potest.

"No one is able to flee from death or love."

Publilius Syrus

Rodney is, quite possibly, telling the truth when he claims Iohannes has a thing for 'Lantis.

He loves her hallways – their strong walls, their solid floors; their stained-glass windows – and the way they split and join and weave intricate, indirect paths throughout the city. He loves her major thoroughfares, the ones that run in parallel with her primary conduits and processing centres, for the life that thrums in them. He loves her smallest passageways for their secrets, forgotten to everyone but his carissima, who knows all secrets, and shared only with him, her pastor ultimus. And he loves all her corridors in all the sizes between, for reasons as many and varied as they themselves are.

He loves her towers, which scrape the sky with their dizzing heights, and her piers, which press them both to the skin of this planet.

He loves the sections his people abandoned long ago, so quiet and undisturbed that the only sound he can hear beneath the shifting of dust is her brilliant, ever-changing song.

He loves the areas the Terrans have rendered habitable again, so filled with voices and laughter and footfalls that reminds him of an age beyond memory, when 'Lantis was last well and truly alive.

He loves the howl of the wind as it weaves between her walls, and the patter of rain as it falls upon them, and the roar of the waves as they crash against her docks – new sounds, new loves, but loves nonetheless.

Most of all, though, he loves standing in the Gate Room – her heart, if any one room within her walls could be said to be so vital to her – and basking in the wonder and the glory and the heartache and the heart-breaking beauty that is Atlantis, the only city that's over mattered.

(His first clear memory is of doing just that, half-hidden behind one of the pillars on the lower tier, waiting for Father to finish speaking with the Council. 'Lantis had seemed to sing just for him that day, making up an operetta that appeared to follow the movement of a school of fish just outside the Gate Room window, and it had all he'd been able to do not to laugh and give his position away to the adults that had filled the room.)

Which, granted, is a lot of love for a guy like him to be throwing around. But that doesn't change the fact that no language he's encountered, not even Alteran, has a better word for what he and 'Lantis share. From that morning in the Gate Room on, she'd done more to raise him than any other adult in his life had. As he'd grown older, their relationship had changed, but the underlying emotion had remained the same.

  • Current Mood: sleepy
  • Current Music: Interpol "No I in Threesome"