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matrixrefugeeI finally came up with one for Tuesday's challenge (I was poking at a "Sandman" one about Delirium's realm, but I have this terrible block about writing Delirium: I'm not random enough [*HOW* does Neil do it?! I'm tempted to ask him...]):
Title: Mad King
Day/Theme: August 16: Kingdom of the mad
Series: "The Matrix Revolutions"
Character/Pairing: The Trainman
Rating: G
He had rewired or in some cases completely rebuilt the subway infrastructure, taking out-of-the-way or abandoned stations and turning them into escape routes for the newly Exiled programs, which gave them a chance to duck into the the subdimensions which the heads of the Exile factions had carved out of the Mainframe.
Before that, in the days of the Fourth Matrix, he'd routed data packets from one sector of the Matrix to another, until the Rebels had planted a virus in the Architect's dark tower, which then infected several systems managers, including him. The damage left his shell intact, but its toxins had affected some of his logic centers, leaving him suspicious and increasingly psychotic. But he'd found a way out before the Architect's minions found him.
Now he ruled the tunnels of the world below the surface of the Matrix, a mad king with a matted mane of hair for a crown, his royal robes a battered raincoat, subject to none save the King of the Exiles. Better to rule in the underground than to be decompiled...
And here's today's fic:
Title: In Paradiso
Day/Theme: August 19: At most, flowers
Series: "The Matrix"
Character/Pairing: Merovingian/Persephone
Rating: PG-13
Background: Takes place early on in the time when the Merv was courting Persephone, back when "he was so different"...
She had expected at the most a bouquet of flowers on the table in his apartment. She did not expect to enter a garden, much less in an atrium she had not yet found in her wanderings through the Chateau's interminable corridors. A gravelled path wound through the lush plant growth, past blood-red hibiscus bushes and and clusters of sweet-smelling jasmine. He does not stop at half-measures, she thought.
She brushed against a mimosa plant, which flinched under her touch, but she pressed onward to the heart of the garden, seeking him whom her heart had begun to long for.
In a clearing, surrounded by tree ferns and spikenard plants, she found him reclining on a rich, red brocade-covered divan. At her approach, he turned his gaze up to meet hers, his pale eyes warm with welcome; he rose and came to her as she stepped into the clearing.
"You created this garden?" she asked, letting him take her hands in his.
"I brought it forth to be the cause of your delight," he said and kissed her mouth gently. Releasing her, he led her to the divan, seating her upon it. Kneeling before her, he took up a dish of pomegranate kernels from a table by the head of the divan and proffered it to her. She hesitated for a moment -- she was still not accustomed to this thing called eating -- but at length she relented and allowed him to feed her the morsels, one by by one...
She had heard of the taste of pomegranate inciting a human's passions, but she did not think this would affect a program. But she soon felt herself warmed from within, with desire for this man before her, a longing so intense, she had no appetite for the meal he had promised her. His embrace would suffice, and by the look on his lean face, she knew that desire was mutual...
Title: Mad King
Day/Theme: August 16: Kingdom of the mad
Series: "The Matrix Revolutions"
Character/Pairing: The Trainman
Rating: G
He had rewired or in some cases completely rebuilt the subway infrastructure, taking out-of-the-way or abandoned stations and turning them into escape routes for the newly Exiled programs, which gave them a chance to duck into the the subdimensions which the heads of the Exile factions had carved out of the Mainframe.
Before that, in the days of the Fourth Matrix, he'd routed data packets from one sector of the Matrix to another, until the Rebels had planted a virus in the Architect's dark tower, which then infected several systems managers, including him. The damage left his shell intact, but its toxins had affected some of his logic centers, leaving him suspicious and increasingly psychotic. But he'd found a way out before the Architect's minions found him.
Now he ruled the tunnels of the world below the surface of the Matrix, a mad king with a matted mane of hair for a crown, his royal robes a battered raincoat, subject to none save the King of the Exiles. Better to rule in the underground than to be decompiled...
And here's today's fic:
Title: In Paradiso
Day/Theme: August 19: At most, flowers
Series: "The Matrix"
Character/Pairing: Merovingian/Persephone
Rating: PG-13
Background: Takes place early on in the time when the Merv was courting Persephone, back when "he was so different"...
She had expected at the most a bouquet of flowers on the table in his apartment. She did not expect to enter a garden, much less in an atrium she had not yet found in her wanderings through the Chateau's interminable corridors. A gravelled path wound through the lush plant growth, past blood-red hibiscus bushes and and clusters of sweet-smelling jasmine. He does not stop at half-measures, she thought.
She brushed against a mimosa plant, which flinched under her touch, but she pressed onward to the heart of the garden, seeking him whom her heart had begun to long for.
In a clearing, surrounded by tree ferns and spikenard plants, she found him reclining on a rich, red brocade-covered divan. At her approach, he turned his gaze up to meet hers, his pale eyes warm with welcome; he rose and came to her as she stepped into the clearing.
"You created this garden?" she asked, letting him take her hands in his.
"I brought it forth to be the cause of your delight," he said and kissed her mouth gently. Releasing her, he led her to the divan, seating her upon it. Kneeling before her, he took up a dish of pomegranate kernels from a table by the head of the divan and proffered it to her. She hesitated for a moment -- she was still not accustomed to this thing called eating -- but at length she relented and allowed him to feed her the morsels, one by by one...
She had heard of the taste of pomegranate inciting a human's passions, but she did not think this would affect a program. But she soon felt herself warmed from within, with desire for this man before her, a longing so intense, she had no appetite for the meal he had promised her. His embrace would suffice, and by the look on his lean face, she knew that desire was mutual...