Riona (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rionaleonhart) wrote2011-12-29 11:05 pm
rionaleonhart) wrote2011-12-29 11:05 pm
I'm Fairly Certain 'Moremoreover' Is The Correct Word.
Fics I'll Never Finish Theatre: have six hundred words of an Uncharted AU set in the world of Final Fantasy XIII. I'll never finish this because, the fact that it would have no market aside, it would need to be some sort of ridiculous epic (I cannot write long things at all), and moreover I have no idea what their Focus would be, and moremoreover l'Cie AUs present the unique problem of being almost impossible to end with anything other than 'and then they turned into crystals!' or 'and then they turned into hideous monsters!'
Also I'm not sure whether people say 'goddamn' on Cocoon, and obviously you can't write anything concerning Sully without the word 'goddamn'.
In conclusion, this is an impossible fic for me to write. But, you know, here's the snippet I wrote of it anyway.
“There we go,” Nate says, as the last piece slides into place and the wheel begins to turn. “Now let’s see what’s behind this door.”
There is a pause. The wheel is winching up the heavy metal barrier. It is winching it up very, very slowly.
“‘Now’?” Elena asks.
“Shut up,” Nate mutters, and then he hears something echoing in from somewhere in the Vestige and he’s already turning around with his hand on his gun before he consciously registers that it’s footsteps, running footsteps pounding through the corridors, close to them and getting closer fast.
It’s only Elena knocking Nate’s arm aside that keeps Sully from getting a bullet through his skull when he charges into the room.
“Sully!” Nate exclaims, his gut giving a sharp twist at the realisation of what almost happened. “What the hell, you couldn’t have knocked?”
Sully ignores him. “Do you know what’s behind that door?” he demands, his voice so strained from smoke and exertion it barely sounds human.
“Well, not really, but I was hoping for something shiny and valuable.”
“It’s a fal’Cie,” Sully says. “A Pulse fal’Cie. We need to get out of here now.”
“What?” Nate asks, wheeling to stare at the still-rising barrier. Its speed hasn’t changed, but suddenly it seems like it’s opening the opposite of too slowly.
“Oh, God,” Elena whispers, taking two steps back from the barrier, and Nate knows what she’s thinking: her crew knows she’s here, which means PSICOM will be able to find out she’s been here, which means if they find out there’s a Pulse fal’Cie here she’ll be on a one-way train down below, which isn’t nearly as sexy as it sounds.
As it turns out, that’s only the start of how fucked they are.
A goddamn tentacle, no kidding, snakes out under the still-opening door. Nate runs, and Elena runs, but Sully’s pushing sixty or ninety or three hundred or however old he claimed to be last time he and Nate got chased over the building-tops of half of Palumpolum, point is he’s not as fast as they are, and they hear his yell when they’re halfway down the corridor.
Nate doesn’t even think about it; he just turns around and runs straight back into the room.
If he’d thought about it, he’d probably have yelled to Elena to keep going, get out of there without them. She’d probably have followed him back in there anyway, but he’d at least have tried.
Sully is on his knees, grimacing in pain, gripping his right shoulder with one hand, and he curses when he sees them. “Goddamn it, kid—”
“Sully—”
“Elena, you’ve got a brain, get him out of here—”
“Sully, did it hurt you?” Nate asks, desperately, and one second Elena’s in his eyeline, stooping to help Sully up, and the next a tentacle has lashed itself around her wrist and she’s wrenched into the air.
“Elena!” Nate and Sully yell together, except it starts as both of them and ends as just Sully because another tentacle has just closed around Nate’s throat. He chokes, scrabbling at it with his fingernails, and has to rise up onto his tiptoes as the fal’Cie tries to pull him upwards, and he’s vaguely aware of Sully lunging up from the floor and trying to help, of Sully grabbing Nate’s gun and emptying the clip into the thing holding him, but stars are exploding in front of Nate’s eyes and the colour is draining out of the walls and it is becoming really
really
really
hard to focus.
Sully, he thinks, and Elena, and I have to, and then he passes out.
I hope you enjoyed that, if you read it! But, er, I hope you didn't enjoy it too much, because, as I said, I really can't see myself finishing this.
(I am still playing Uncharted 3, still enjoying it immensely, but what has happened to Elena's face? She doesn't look like Elena any more! I am really distressed by this!)
Also I'm not sure whether people say 'goddamn' on Cocoon, and obviously you can't write anything concerning Sully without the word 'goddamn'.
In conclusion, this is an impossible fic for me to write. But, you know, here's the snippet I wrote of it anyway.
“There we go,” Nate says, as the last piece slides into place and the wheel begins to turn. “Now let’s see what’s behind this door.”
There is a pause. The wheel is winching up the heavy metal barrier. It is winching it up very, very slowly.
“‘Now’?” Elena asks.
“Shut up,” Nate mutters, and then he hears something echoing in from somewhere in the Vestige and he’s already turning around with his hand on his gun before he consciously registers that it’s footsteps, running footsteps pounding through the corridors, close to them and getting closer fast.
It’s only Elena knocking Nate’s arm aside that keeps Sully from getting a bullet through his skull when he charges into the room.
“Sully!” Nate exclaims, his gut giving a sharp twist at the realisation of what almost happened. “What the hell, you couldn’t have knocked?”
Sully ignores him. “Do you know what’s behind that door?” he demands, his voice so strained from smoke and exertion it barely sounds human.
“Well, not really, but I was hoping for something shiny and valuable.”
“It’s a fal’Cie,” Sully says. “A Pulse fal’Cie. We need to get out of here now.”
“What?” Nate asks, wheeling to stare at the still-rising barrier. Its speed hasn’t changed, but suddenly it seems like it’s opening the opposite of too slowly.
“Oh, God,” Elena whispers, taking two steps back from the barrier, and Nate knows what she’s thinking: her crew knows she’s here, which means PSICOM will be able to find out she’s been here, which means if they find out there’s a Pulse fal’Cie here she’ll be on a one-way train down below, which isn’t nearly as sexy as it sounds.
As it turns out, that’s only the start of how fucked they are.
A goddamn tentacle, no kidding, snakes out under the still-opening door. Nate runs, and Elena runs, but Sully’s pushing sixty or ninety or three hundred or however old he claimed to be last time he and Nate got chased over the building-tops of half of Palumpolum, point is he’s not as fast as they are, and they hear his yell when they’re halfway down the corridor.
Nate doesn’t even think about it; he just turns around and runs straight back into the room.
If he’d thought about it, he’d probably have yelled to Elena to keep going, get out of there without them. She’d probably have followed him back in there anyway, but he’d at least have tried.
Sully is on his knees, grimacing in pain, gripping his right shoulder with one hand, and he curses when he sees them. “Goddamn it, kid—”
“Sully—”
“Elena, you’ve got a brain, get him out of here—”
“Sully, did it hurt you?” Nate asks, desperately, and one second Elena’s in his eyeline, stooping to help Sully up, and the next a tentacle has lashed itself around her wrist and she’s wrenched into the air.
“Elena!” Nate and Sully yell together, except it starts as both of them and ends as just Sully because another tentacle has just closed around Nate’s throat. He chokes, scrabbling at it with his fingernails, and has to rise up onto his tiptoes as the fal’Cie tries to pull him upwards, and he’s vaguely aware of Sully lunging up from the floor and trying to help, of Sully grabbing Nate’s gun and emptying the clip into the thing holding him, but stars are exploding in front of Nate’s eyes and the colour is draining out of the walls and it is becoming really
really
really
hard to focus.
Sully, he thinks, and Elena, and I have to, and then he passes out.
I hope you enjoyed that, if you read it! But, er, I hope you didn't enjoy it too much, because, as I said, I really can't see myself finishing this.
(I am still playing Uncharted 3, still enjoying it immensely, but what has happened to Elena's face? She doesn't look like Elena any more! I am really distressed by this!)
no subject
...Nate, you complete dumbass. Of course that's how he'd become l'Cie. I do love the slowly-opening door joke, and am saddened that the fic won't continue if only because we won't find out what sort of summons they'd all get, or what silly weapons they'd have. Or how a Chocobo would react to Elena's hair.
I am not tempted to try to imagine Nomura-designed Uncharted characters. No. Be quiet.
no subject
I'm hoping I'll get used to the change in Elena's model. During the first cutscene with her, I could barely concentrate; I just kept thinking 'what's happened to her face? She looks like someone's injected her with cat DNA. Did Nathan inject her with cat DNA? Is that why they fell out?'
(I am so intensely curious about what happened between Uncharted 2 and Uncharted 3! (The ring! That was such a 'askdgjhdhfjjhghgh WHAT' moment. There is a scene behind this I really, really want to see.))
no subject
Elena has a sword. And her camera. Because if she has to be dragged into all this nonsense she is at least going to be practical, and a sword is a nice practical weapon. Or, maybe, a crossbow with a variety of ammo typWHY AM I THINKING ABOUT THIS SO MUCH AUGH
no subject
But in other news, that fic snippet was awesome. I tried not to think it was awesome, since you said it wouldn't ever get finished, but it was awesome! I am also loling about tentacles, because it's me.
I had a similar problem to your goddamn on Pulse with Spira Infinita. I mean, I just know that no-one on Spira would say things like shit or fuck or whatever, but you just gotta, you know? XD (not sure if you're still even vaguely interested in the fate of that fic, but it is on the schedule for finishing, as everything else is lately, as soon as I've finished my nano :D)
BUT BACK TO BUSINESS: I didn't even notice a difference with Elena's model! o.O Then again, it was a while ago (ish) when I saw her last, so maybe that's it? Or maybe I'm just shit.
no subject
Well, at least in Spira Infinita there's the possibility that people do say 'shit' but as it happens nobody you encounter in Final Fantasy X is the swearing type. 'God' probably doesn't make sense as an oath on Cocoon at all. (I was actually thinking of Spira Infinita when I was writing this, because that's a similar crazy epic thing with very little market; the difference between us is you're brave enough to actually write it. I admire you!)
I find it reassuring that you didn't notice a difference in Elena's appearance, because perhaps that means I'll be able to get used to it. Hooray!
(EDIT: I've just played a little further, and as it turns out most of the difference in Elena's appearance was down to the eye makeup she was wearing in Yemen; she looks much more Elenaish now. I am immensely relieved.)
no subject
Ooh, where did you get up to now??
no subject
but stars are exploding in front of Nate’s eyes and the colour is draining out of the walls
I see what you did here! AND IT IS AWESOME. Hurry, Nate, get away and let your healing factor work!