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concoursec2010-09-06 10:21 pm
ready-set-fire.livejournal.com) wrote in concoursec2010-09-06 10:21 pm
Entry tags:
(/dream/)
Character(s): Ace & technically Marco
Location: His dreeeeams.
Rating: PG
Open/Closed/Finished: Finished
Summary: Ace's dream. It's boring. Don't bother reading.
He was flying. There was wind through his feathers, birds saying hello -- when they weren't just startled entirely at seeing a blue phoenix flying around -- and ocean as far as phoenix eyes could see, and that was pretty damn far. He landed on the deck of a truly giant ship, and instantly felt home. He was instantly greeted by hundreds of crew members looking up from their card games, or drinks, paperwork, whatever was going on.
Flying was... terrifying in a sense, but also fun, and the odd not-quite-his-own emotions helped with that. Ace hadn't had flying dreams before, but if he had, he wouldn't have expected THIS type. He felt like he had wings, his forelimbs flapping in steady beats, something proven when he found himself landing against all intentions, on what appeared to be a pirate ship - Whitebeard's ship at that. He tried to rail at this, disgusted, but the body moved entirely independently of his wishes. It didn't help that a wave of unfamiliar belonging washed over him at the sight of (family) disgusting pirates greeting him 'home'. It sickened him - hardly his usual standard of nightmare, but this was somehow worse.
"Marco! You're back!" they grinned.
Ace flinched at that, or would have if he could move - he wanted nothing more than to leave, right now, get away from this twisted parody of 'family' that didn't even have a chance of existing; at least he had a defined role now, understood why he was flying.
He grinned back, happily walking over to his Pops. "POPS!" Marco beamed, and hopped up higher to talk to Whitebeard. The strongest man in the world was impressive. Even sitting down, he was five times taller. Still, Marco couldn't suppress the surge of affection for the man just from hearing the familiar laugh.
"Gurararara!" Whitebeard laughed, grinning cheerfully. "Good job my son! Back so soon?"
Too much. This was too much. Ace raged inside his mind, disgust and anger overtaking him; this was Whitebeard, and even though he didn't seem to be himself, it was stil the body he was inside that was was behaving like this, flooding him with emotions entirely unsuited to meeting a Pirate Emperor.
Marco laughed and carefully handed the folder to Whitebeard. It was as big as he could make it and still a tiny mini-book in his father's hands. "Wasn't hard. Got the info on the slavers, Pops. They shouldn't be too difficult."
"Good, good," Whitebeard beamed, flipping through the folder. "Always so serious? Have a drink!"
Another laugh and Marco proffered a rare expensive bottle of sake that had filled up his entire backpack. "You first Pops!"
'Bullshit', Ace hissed mentally, because it WAS; pirates didn't behave like that, and it was insulting to think his subconscious was coming up with crap like this. And the detail about slavers - well, at least his mind had the decency to expect that the pirates DID have dealings with such scum. He repressed the repulsive feelings of home, family, pops as much as possible, reminding himself of any horror Ace had seen committed in the name of piracy.
*******
The memory changed to Marco, Izou, Thatch, and Ace poring over papers. "If we kill the ringleaders," Trap-chan suggested.
Himself? Ace tried to stare, but his/Marco's head was already looking down, staring at papers which seemed to regard slavers - the ones from his previous dream? Why was he sitting there with- no. The other him was dressed differently, too differently (not to mention a weird tattoo), sitting among pirates completely at ease. Ace knew of another version of himself, one which fit the situation.
"Then the next ones will just take their place," Thatch pointed out.
"So burn their ships down," Ace grinned and flicked his orange hat up with a finger made of fire.
The other him... Ace disliked him. Would have, even if he HADN'T been a pirate. Maybe it was because he was possessive of his ientity, of his life, but that didn't matter right now. He was seeing through Marco's eyes, seeing a world where Ace had been a pirate, a Commander sitting among the others... this wasn't a dream. Not an ordinary one, at any rate.
"That's your solution to everything," Marco grinned.
Ace smirked right back, "What's wrong with fire?"
"Nothing Sparky," Marco leaned on the wildfire, "But we can't, they've got kids on board."
'Like you really care,' Ace wanted to snarl, but he couldn't - and if this was a memory, one of the Phoenix's, not just a dream... then it did happen? The man HAD been unwilling to kill children? He pushed the thought aside, unwilling to consider it, because it was wrong, a horrible thought - pirates didn't care, they were incapable of caring, sub-human; perhaps they were trying to get on someone's good side, someone who'd disapprove of them killing children. That would explain it, and Ace relaxed slightly as he found a functional explanation, no matter how tenuous.
*********
Another memory of Ace trying to kill Whitebeard. He lunged with an axe and Whitebeard just moved to the side and the brat fell overboard. "Ah? Ace is in the water again," one of the pirates pointed out.
Thatch dove in and got him out, griping about wet clothes and young brats, but only half meaning it. Marco watched from the railing and laughed. "How many times are you going to keep trying?"
He was pleased at the attempt on the pirate's life, but the amused calm of Marco's emotions refused to let him hold any hope it would succeed. Idiot other-him. Bastard Whitebeard, scum Phoenix. And 'Thatch' too, just as appalling as the others. 'Wish they'd both drowned,' Ace silently grouched, refusing to take note of Marco's feelings, which still screamed family, family.
"AS LONG AS IT TAKES!" Ace roared.
"Suit yourself kid," Marco grinned.
Later when Ace had dried off, he was off sulking by the railing. Marco frowned and went off to get him some soup. Damn kid was likely to starve himself. And usually Ace could eat an entire ship out of house and home. He brought it up and gently set it next to the kid. He was about to leave, give the kid space when Ace spoke up instead. "Why do you guys call him 'Pops?'" the kid glared sullenly.
'Because they're idiots,' was Ace's prompt answer, although considering the tattoo of other-Ace, he also fit the description. Huh. Did he really look like THAT when he was glaring? Repulsed at the continuing feeling of 'family, home' that pervaded Marco's body, even as the Phoenix considered other-Ace, Ace grit mental teeth, steeling his will away from the despair he almost lapsed into. He HATED it, hates this, lies and temptation, and stupid, weak bullshit. As if anyone could survive while feeling any of this. You crushed your enemies, you didn't RECRUIT them, but Ace knew that this was what had happened in some other world.
Marco beamed. He was thrilled. If Ace was asking that could only mean good things. "Because he calls us his 'sons,'" was the easy explanation with a large grin. "We're hated all around the world, eh. But we're happy. Words like these make us happy. Do you seriously want to continue getting almost killed, eh? It's time to reach a decision, eh. Will you take Whitebeard's mark on your back?"
It was stupid to rail against those emotions of happiness and welcome, but Ace tried as best he could; even a pointless battle was better than going down easily. He willed the other-Ace to reject him, to throw himself overboard or at least to die fighting the Phoenix, but it was impossible; the crap that the bird was spewing must have sounded so sweet after however long other-Ace had been there, stupid words that suggested Ace too should want to be brainwashed as well. Despite himself, Ace couldn't help feel a hint of pity for other-Ace, and he couldn't bring himself to feel bad for it, either. Other-Ace might have been a pirate beforehand, but it was obvious he hadn't become a Whitebeard pirate through his own choice. How many months of despair and brainwashing had he gone through before he succumbed to Stockholm Syndrome and gave in? It was... shameful, but sad. It was no bad thing, Ace decided, to take pity on this other-him, and try to learn from his mistake.
Location: His dreeeeams.
Rating: PG
Open/Closed/Finished: Finished
Summary: Ace's dream. It's boring. Don't bother reading.
He was flying. There was wind through his feathers, birds saying hello -- when they weren't just startled entirely at seeing a blue phoenix flying around -- and ocean as far as phoenix eyes could see, and that was pretty damn far. He landed on the deck of a truly giant ship, and instantly felt home. He was instantly greeted by hundreds of crew members looking up from their card games, or drinks, paperwork, whatever was going on.
Flying was... terrifying in a sense, but also fun, and the odd not-quite-his-own emotions helped with that. Ace hadn't had flying dreams before, but if he had, he wouldn't have expected THIS type. He felt like he had wings, his forelimbs flapping in steady beats, something proven when he found himself landing against all intentions, on what appeared to be a pirate ship - Whitebeard's ship at that. He tried to rail at this, disgusted, but the body moved entirely independently of his wishes. It didn't help that a wave of unfamiliar belonging washed over him at the sight of (family) disgusting pirates greeting him 'home'. It sickened him - hardly his usual standard of nightmare, but this was somehow worse.
"Marco! You're back!" they grinned.
Ace flinched at that, or would have if he could move - he wanted nothing more than to leave, right now, get away from this twisted parody of 'family' that didn't even have a chance of existing; at least he had a defined role now, understood why he was flying.
He grinned back, happily walking over to his Pops. "POPS!" Marco beamed, and hopped up higher to talk to Whitebeard. The strongest man in the world was impressive. Even sitting down, he was five times taller. Still, Marco couldn't suppress the surge of affection for the man just from hearing the familiar laugh.
"Gurararara!" Whitebeard laughed, grinning cheerfully. "Good job my son! Back so soon?"
Too much. This was too much. Ace raged inside his mind, disgust and anger overtaking him; this was Whitebeard, and even though he didn't seem to be himself, it was stil the body he was inside that was was behaving like this, flooding him with emotions entirely unsuited to meeting a Pirate Emperor.
Marco laughed and carefully handed the folder to Whitebeard. It was as big as he could make it and still a tiny mini-book in his father's hands. "Wasn't hard. Got the info on the slavers, Pops. They shouldn't be too difficult."
"Good, good," Whitebeard beamed, flipping through the folder. "Always so serious? Have a drink!"
Another laugh and Marco proffered a rare expensive bottle of sake that had filled up his entire backpack. "You first Pops!"
'Bullshit', Ace hissed mentally, because it WAS; pirates didn't behave like that, and it was insulting to think his subconscious was coming up with crap like this. And the detail about slavers - well, at least his mind had the decency to expect that the pirates DID have dealings with such scum. He repressed the repulsive feelings of home, family, pops as much as possible, reminding himself of any horror Ace had seen committed in the name of piracy.
*******
The memory changed to Marco, Izou, Thatch, and Ace poring over papers. "If we kill the ringleaders," Trap-chan suggested.
Himself? Ace tried to stare, but his/Marco's head was already looking down, staring at papers which seemed to regard slavers - the ones from his previous dream? Why was he sitting there with- no. The other him was dressed differently, too differently (not to mention a weird tattoo), sitting among pirates completely at ease. Ace knew of another version of himself, one which fit the situation.
"Then the next ones will just take their place," Thatch pointed out.
"So burn their ships down," Ace grinned and flicked his orange hat up with a finger made of fire.
The other him... Ace disliked him. Would have, even if he HADN'T been a pirate. Maybe it was because he was possessive of his ientity, of his life, but that didn't matter right now. He was seeing through Marco's eyes, seeing a world where Ace had been a pirate, a Commander sitting among the others... this wasn't a dream. Not an ordinary one, at any rate.
"That's your solution to everything," Marco grinned.
Ace smirked right back, "What's wrong with fire?"
"Nothing Sparky," Marco leaned on the wildfire, "But we can't, they've got kids on board."
'Like you really care,' Ace wanted to snarl, but he couldn't - and if this was a memory, one of the Phoenix's, not just a dream... then it did happen? The man HAD been unwilling to kill children? He pushed the thought aside, unwilling to consider it, because it was wrong, a horrible thought - pirates didn't care, they were incapable of caring, sub-human; perhaps they were trying to get on someone's good side, someone who'd disapprove of them killing children. That would explain it, and Ace relaxed slightly as he found a functional explanation, no matter how tenuous.
*********
Another memory of Ace trying to kill Whitebeard. He lunged with an axe and Whitebeard just moved to the side and the brat fell overboard. "Ah? Ace is in the water again," one of the pirates pointed out.
Thatch dove in and got him out, griping about wet clothes and young brats, but only half meaning it. Marco watched from the railing and laughed. "How many times are you going to keep trying?"
He was pleased at the attempt on the pirate's life, but the amused calm of Marco's emotions refused to let him hold any hope it would succeed. Idiot other-him. Bastard Whitebeard, scum Phoenix. And 'Thatch' too, just as appalling as the others. 'Wish they'd both drowned,' Ace silently grouched, refusing to take note of Marco's feelings, which still screamed family, family.
"AS LONG AS IT TAKES!" Ace roared.
"Suit yourself kid," Marco grinned.
Later when Ace had dried off, he was off sulking by the railing. Marco frowned and went off to get him some soup. Damn kid was likely to starve himself. And usually Ace could eat an entire ship out of house and home. He brought it up and gently set it next to the kid. He was about to leave, give the kid space when Ace spoke up instead. "Why do you guys call him 'Pops?'" the kid glared sullenly.
'Because they're idiots,' was Ace's prompt answer, although considering the tattoo of other-Ace, he also fit the description. Huh. Did he really look like THAT when he was glaring? Repulsed at the continuing feeling of 'family, home' that pervaded Marco's body, even as the Phoenix considered other-Ace, Ace grit mental teeth, steeling his will away from the despair he almost lapsed into. He HATED it, hates this, lies and temptation, and stupid, weak bullshit. As if anyone could survive while feeling any of this. You crushed your enemies, you didn't RECRUIT them, but Ace knew that this was what had happened in some other world.
Marco beamed. He was thrilled. If Ace was asking that could only mean good things. "Because he calls us his 'sons,'" was the easy explanation with a large grin. "We're hated all around the world, eh. But we're happy. Words like these make us happy. Do you seriously want to continue getting almost killed, eh? It's time to reach a decision, eh. Will you take Whitebeard's mark on your back?"
It was stupid to rail against those emotions of happiness and welcome, but Ace tried as best he could; even a pointless battle was better than going down easily. He willed the other-Ace to reject him, to throw himself overboard or at least to die fighting the Phoenix, but it was impossible; the crap that the bird was spewing must have sounded so sweet after however long other-Ace had been there, stupid words that suggested Ace too should want to be brainwashed as well. Despite himself, Ace couldn't help feel a hint of pity for other-Ace, and he couldn't bring himself to feel bad for it, either. Other-Ace might have been a pirate beforehand, but it was obvious he hadn't become a Whitebeard pirate through his own choice. How many months of despair and brainwashing had he gone through before he succumbed to Stockholm Syndrome and gave in? It was... shameful, but sad. It was no bad thing, Ace decided, to take pity on this other-him, and try to learn from his mistake.