Tangible Schizophrenia


Harmonic Triad

Author: Guede Mazaka
Rating: See individual drabbles.
Pairing: See individual drabbles.
Feedback: Good lines, ugly ones, etc.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: A few notes sung on a still day.


Touchstone: PG, Flying Snow, for snowpiratess

Daughter of a general, she knows the ways of men and war. She’s seen the ravages and the hatred and the brutality, and she wants it all to end. Flying Snow fights in order to bring that dream into fruitful reality. Sometimes it is difficult to remember that, with bodies falling before her sword and death screaming in her face and the hot trance of battle blanketing her mind. Sometimes she thinks she is growing accustomed to war.

But he always calls her back to peace, their shared dream. He is her Broken Sword, for the time when all conflict shall leave the land.

Her fingers wrap around that thought tighter with the passing of each day that the emperor of Ch’in still lives.

* * *

Humanity: G, Nameless/Moon, for selinakyle47

Her master likes the man, but he despairs of the nameless one’s quest. Her mistress champions the man, speaks of his plan with vermilion sparks in her eyes and cheeks. As for Moon?

When her anger dies, when her worry for her master’s survival is assuaged, she cannot help but remember him as he was, and not as she wishes to think of him. He was weatherbeaten, small, slight—not heroic at all in appearance. His eyes were black with compassion, not regret or fury, and his sword was swift but his heart was reluctant to change its ways.

He was a man. That was all. She does not know if that will be enough, but she thinks she hopes, sometimes.

* * *

Generational Program: G, crossover with the Matrix Trilogy, Nameless and Neo, for trin_chardin

If the time period itself is a construct of the Matrix, Neo thought one day, then—

--and history flowed backward, buoying him along to a land of yellow dust and red war, to the feet of a startled Chinese man. He didn’t quite have a chance to give an explanation before he was challenged, and then he figured a little sparring wouldn’t hurt anything.

Later, when he met Seraph, he caught himself fingering the place where his coat had been cut. Of course, the cut was no longer there, but the memory still lingered, familiar stretches of code and commands.

He really should’ve gotten a name before he’d left.