(I was cleaning out my fic folder and found this little ficlet written during 5B. Not sure what it really is other than I had a lot of feelings about Killian being in the Underworld alone.)
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The devil is in the details.
The sun shines here, but there is no warmth in its light.
The beams crisscross the worn boards of the Jolly, but a coldness seeps into
his bones – deep and aching – leaving him shivering even as the world looks bright and normal.
The devil is in the details.
He lies in his bunk at night, the moonlight filtering
through the carved panes of his window, but everything is still. Too still. The
ocean does not rock the ship, its comforting cadence gone quiet. No gentle
sound of the waves against weathered wood – the creaks and moans of his home are no more. Only the sounds of his breathing filling the darkness remain.
The devil is in the details.
Her hand cups his cheek, her thumb lightly tracing the small
scar there as she’s done thousands of times before. Her smile fills his heart,
warms him like the sun here cannot, but as he look at her, something is off. The
color of her eyes, what is it? Blue? Green, maybe. He can’t tell. The light is
missing within their depths, in its place a strange, foreign flatness. And when
she murmurs that she loves him, it sounds wrong. Like a song being sung
out of tune, the words are right but the sound is just wrong.
The devil is in the details.
Finally, the false veil lifts and his reality is revealed.
The illusion of his old life is turned to ash by the fires that ring him, and
acceptance settles heavy on his bruised and bloodied shoulders. This is the fate he has earned, the due
that he owes. This is where he
belongs. He is Icarus and Emma his sun, he’s lucky to have flown so close for so long. His love fueled such folly even as his wings melted around him, but
he knows he would do it all again if given a chance. As angry, impotent tears
begin to burn behind his eyes, a soft chuckle echoes around him, and he suddenly
realizes he’s not alone in this hell.
The Captains of the Hufflepuff Team & the Gryffindor Team
“Ready to lose, uh, Swan?” He smirked, looping in the air around her on his broomstick with gracefulness. He was the best player of Hogwarts – and the Captain of the Hufflepuff team -, after all, flying like he was born just to do that.
“You wish.” The blonde retorted, a slight frown on her features, but her face softened – she always failed miserably at being angry at him – when he swirled aroud the handle of his broomstick, his face so close to hers that she could feel his hot breath burning her skin.
They’d met each other during a game 4 years ago, when she had sent a Bludger toward him when he was about to pass the Quaffle through a ring. He had fallen from his broomstick and she had caught him, flying down toward the ground and calling for a doctor.
He ended up with a dislocated shoulder. He had stayed at the infirmary for a long time, and she felt so guilty that he had decided to visit him everyday. That’s how they had bonded; despite her original reluctance to let another guy in – after Neal -, she had eventually admitted her feelings for him and he, his for her.
She smiled at him, quipping. “Well, I got 2 hands. That’s pretty useful.” She winked at him.
The day she had hit him and brought him to the infirmary, she had been surprised to see he had only one hand, since he had the reputation to be the best player of the school. And he sure was.
He had been a bit uneasy when she had asked him what was the story behind his missing limb. He had finally told her that he was born in a Muggle family and that he had been in a car accident with both his parents at the age of 6. He had lost his left hand and became an orphan that day.
Emma had felt even more attracted to him at the time, because she had also spent her 11 first years in different muggle foster families, and hadn’t found her family until she had come to Hogwarts – despite the whole Neal thing.
He had then explained to her that he was afraid of being in a car nowadays. That’s why he was enjoying flying on a broomstick so much. And he had mastered that skill despite his disavantage.
He pouted, as if trying to appear miffled, but his facial expression broke and he laughed. “Aye, it is. But I remember I’m rather talented one-handed, don’t you think?”
The very expicit innuendo elicited a giggle from her. She nodded and then ran her hand through his hair, his head still just a few inches away from hers, and upside down.
His eyes flickered to her lips and then back to her green orbs. “Aren’t you gonna wish some luck to a quite disabled man, then?“
She smiled and he grinned back. “Good luck, Killian.” She whispered as she leaned forward, closing the gap between them, her lips pressed against his.
It was a gift from Mary Margaret. A Christmas photoshoot for the two of them. Half an engagement gift, half a Christmas gift.
“It would be nice to have some good pictures of us to hang on the walls,” Emma said, after explaining to him everything involved with a photoshoot. Awkward posing and all.
“Aye, I would like to have one on my person, too,” he smiled at her, leaning in for a kiss.
/-/
“Why do I get the elf hat?!”
“With your ears, come on, you don’t even need the sewed-on fake ones!”
“Is that why there are pieces of thread dangling from this monstrosity?”
Swan was right; it felt awkward and unnatural at first, but they were able to ease into it. Their favourite photo by far was the one of them carrying a prop tree, even if they had asinine hats on. Killian had tripped. Emma made some stupid quip about him not having his land legs, and the way they looked at each other in that one silly moment made it all worth while.
Merry Christmas @elizabeth-madles !! It was fun being your CS Secret Santa! I’m glad you don’t mind the early posting, I’m being sent on missions for the next two days as I write lol I hope you enjoy this little fluffy Christmas nonsense 😀
It All Starts With a Dance 