Power in the Word
Apr. 18th, 2014 12:51 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
katleeptTitle: Power in the Word
Author: Kat Lee
Fandoms: Mainly Charmed, Leverage, and Bewitched but the Wizard of Oz, Labyrinth, Alice in Wonderland, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer are also all involved.
Characters/Pairing: Mainly Phoebe, Parker, and Samantha but also mentions Dorothy, Scarecrow, Tin Man, the Cowardly Lion, Jareth/Sarah, Alice, White Rabbit, and Faith
Rating: PG/K+
Challenge/Prompt:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
tamingthemuse #404: Besom
Word Count: 1,385
Warnings: Dark AU, Crossover, Angst
Summary:
Author's Note: I really don't need another AU, but I couldn't resist this one . . . It's just too powerful, if I do say so myself.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to their rightful owners, not the author.
It is on nights like these, when the howling winds rattling the bars on their windows and the clashing thunder and lightning isn't quite enough to drown out the screams of the others in the asylum, that Phoebe turns, in her locked room, to her closet for comfort. Hidden behind ratty blankets in the very back of the top shelf lays a game she hasn't played in years. It started it all, and on top of it sits a small broom made of twigs.
She doesn't know much about her life before she woke in this place, but she does know that these two things thrum with magic in her hands. They remind her of another time, and another place which she can't fully remember but she knows instantly was better than this -- not that anything wouldn't be better than here -- and is full of love and laughter. She catches glimpses of smiling faces and knows the other women are her sisters, even if she can't call them by name.
The broom, or besom as it's more aptly called, comes from another time and place, as well. Then, too, was better than here. It was a time, and a land, full of magic, and she discovered more of herself there than she has anywhere else. She and the other women were as full of magic and light as the land itself, and as she clutches the besom, quietly crying, she wishes she could feel that way again. She would give anything to have that power again, anything to free herself and the others of this prison.
"Ooo! Phoebe! I didn't know you were a Witch, too!"
Phoebe jumps at the unexpected voice. Still clutching the besom, only now holding it almost as though it were a weapon, the woman whose brown hair long ago started turning gray whirls to face her surprise visitors. Both blondes are grinning widely at her, and it's only her knowledge of their lives that keeps Phoebe from being angry at them.
Her room mate, Parker, has never once been stopped by a locked door; the tale is she was left here by her adopted parents after she tried to burn them alive. Phoebe doesn't quite know why the girl would do such a thing, but she's seen old scars on her flesh when they've spent hours up late at night talking in the still darkness of their room that is more a cage. She knows if Parker had indeed done such a thing, the punishment was well deserved and suspects the scars are reminders of why she tried so hard to escape her parents.
The other woman was left here by her husband, and although she believes herself to be a Witch, Phoebe has never seen or felt anything about Samantha Stephens to make her believe she, too, has magic. Maybe she is gifted and can not access her gifts in this place. Phoebe doesn't know, but she knows her powers were taken from her before she was locked away in this horrid trap.
Tears glisten in her brown eyes. Samantha quiets and watches her tears, her own big, blue eyes growing watery. Parker, on the other hand, doesn't seem to notice as she continues bouncing up and down on her feet. "Dorothy says tonight's the night."
Samantha and Phoebe continue to look at each other as Parker jumps, popping gum she stole off of some orderly. Sam had grabbed the handle of the besom in her excitement to see the old broom, but now she releases it. Relief touches Phoebe for she knows she's not going to ask her questions. She doesn't expect answers, and that's good because Phoebe doesn't want to share what little she does have. She turns to replace her treasures in their hiding spot where none of the asylum's workers ever bother to look. While patting the ratty blankets carefully back into place around the game and broom, she mutters, "She says that about every night."
"But she really means it this time." The pop of Parker's gum seems almost to echo in the tiny room.
Phoebe ignores it as she places her hand over the slight bulge where she knows the besom lays. For one quick moment, she remembers riding a besom much like this one, only larger, over the moon itself. Tears do sparkle in her eyes this time, one large one rolling down her cheek and splashing onto her pale top. At least she's no longer in the straight jacket, not like some of them, not like Parker will be again when they find out she's been stealing again, but still, she longs for the freedom, the magic, and the power she once had.
She jumps again when Samantha's hand gently touches her shoulder. She shies away from the touch, and the blonde steps back, giving her room.
Parker has stopped jumping and is instead intently looking at Phoebe, her head cocked to one side. "Why the 'tude?" she asks, having picked up the slang from the one person in the asylum who spends the most time in a straight jacket. Phoebe knows nothing about that girl other than that her name is Faith.
"I'm sorry, Parker," she says with an exasperated sigh, "but I'm just tired."
"It's more than that." Samantha's words are almost a whisper.
"Hell, yeah, it is! I'm sick of this place, and I'm sick of all the tall tales that these other women tell about how they're going to get out of here! A talking, white rabbit? A man made of straw and another of tin and a talking lion?! And let's not forget Sarah's freaking Goblin King who turns into a damn owl!"
"He did show up last night," Parker interjects.
"No, he didn't, Parker. He didn't, because he doesn't exist! Come on, if her lover was a King, don't you know he would've busted her out of this place years ago?!"
"Have we been in here years?"
Parker pops her gum again. "I pretty much grew up here."
Phoebe softens at that reminder. "Yeah," she says, looking sadly at her, "you did. I'm sorry, Parker. I'm just tired, and the weather's got me moody, and . . . And I miss my sisters."
"You had sisters? You never told me about them. I was an only child."
Sometimes, Phoebe wonders if she was. She wonders if the few memories she retains are actually that or if they're like the memories Sarah, Dorothy, and Alice possess: mere figments of her imagination. After all, if she'd truly had sisters who loved her, wouldn't they have come by now? It seems like she's been in this place forever, although, unlike Parker, she didn't have the misfortune to grow up here.
"I'm sorry," she says again and finds she can no longer look at them. She walks over to her bed, sits down, draws her knees up to her chest, and wraps her thin arms around them. Huddling there, she turns her head to look away from them and out through the metal bars blocking their exit from the one small window they're somehow lucky enough to have in this room. Sarah's the only other one she knows with a window.
Beyond the bars, she can see the night sky and realizes it's stopped storming at last. The clouds have parted, and the moon has come out. Tears spill down her face, but she remembers. She remembers riding the broom over the moon. She remembers that there is power in the words she uses. She remembers her sisters.
Parker's already bounced out of the room, and besides, Phoebe's forgotten about the other women as she sits alone on the verge of another complete breakdown. "I am a Witch," she whispers, "and I do have sisters."
Standing in the doorway, Samantha hears Phoebe's whispered admission and smiles. "There is power in the words," she whispers, and she hopes with all her heart that Phoebe's sisters, Dorothy's men, Sarah's King, Alice's rabbit, her own daddy or even her mother will come for them. Some one will come for them . . . she hopes. She would pray if she thought it would do any good, but for now, she trails behind Parker and leaves the other Witch alone . . . for now.
The End
Author: Kat Lee
Fandoms: Mainly Charmed, Leverage, and Bewitched but the Wizard of Oz, Labyrinth, Alice in Wonderland, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer are also all involved.
Characters/Pairing: Mainly Phoebe, Parker, and Samantha but also mentions Dorothy, Scarecrow, Tin Man, the Cowardly Lion, Jareth/Sarah, Alice, White Rabbit, and Faith
Rating: PG/K+
Challenge/Prompt:
tamingthemuse #404: BesomWord Count: 1,385
Warnings: Dark AU, Crossover, Angst
Summary:
Author's Note: I really don't need another AU, but I couldn't resist this one . . . It's just too powerful, if I do say so myself.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to their rightful owners, not the author.
It is on nights like these, when the howling winds rattling the bars on their windows and the clashing thunder and lightning isn't quite enough to drown out the screams of the others in the asylum, that Phoebe turns, in her locked room, to her closet for comfort. Hidden behind ratty blankets in the very back of the top shelf lays a game she hasn't played in years. It started it all, and on top of it sits a small broom made of twigs.
She doesn't know much about her life before she woke in this place, but she does know that these two things thrum with magic in her hands. They remind her of another time, and another place which she can't fully remember but she knows instantly was better than this -- not that anything wouldn't be better than here -- and is full of love and laughter. She catches glimpses of smiling faces and knows the other women are her sisters, even if she can't call them by name.
The broom, or besom as it's more aptly called, comes from another time and place, as well. Then, too, was better than here. It was a time, and a land, full of magic, and she discovered more of herself there than she has anywhere else. She and the other women were as full of magic and light as the land itself, and as she clutches the besom, quietly crying, she wishes she could feel that way again. She would give anything to have that power again, anything to free herself and the others of this prison.
"Ooo! Phoebe! I didn't know you were a Witch, too!"
Phoebe jumps at the unexpected voice. Still clutching the besom, only now holding it almost as though it were a weapon, the woman whose brown hair long ago started turning gray whirls to face her surprise visitors. Both blondes are grinning widely at her, and it's only her knowledge of their lives that keeps Phoebe from being angry at them.
Her room mate, Parker, has never once been stopped by a locked door; the tale is she was left here by her adopted parents after she tried to burn them alive. Phoebe doesn't quite know why the girl would do such a thing, but she's seen old scars on her flesh when they've spent hours up late at night talking in the still darkness of their room that is more a cage. She knows if Parker had indeed done such a thing, the punishment was well deserved and suspects the scars are reminders of why she tried so hard to escape her parents.
The other woman was left here by her husband, and although she believes herself to be a Witch, Phoebe has never seen or felt anything about Samantha Stephens to make her believe she, too, has magic. Maybe she is gifted and can not access her gifts in this place. Phoebe doesn't know, but she knows her powers were taken from her before she was locked away in this horrid trap.
Tears glisten in her brown eyes. Samantha quiets and watches her tears, her own big, blue eyes growing watery. Parker, on the other hand, doesn't seem to notice as she continues bouncing up and down on her feet. "Dorothy says tonight's the night."
Samantha and Phoebe continue to look at each other as Parker jumps, popping gum she stole off of some orderly. Sam had grabbed the handle of the besom in her excitement to see the old broom, but now she releases it. Relief touches Phoebe for she knows she's not going to ask her questions. She doesn't expect answers, and that's good because Phoebe doesn't want to share what little she does have. She turns to replace her treasures in their hiding spot where none of the asylum's workers ever bother to look. While patting the ratty blankets carefully back into place around the game and broom, she mutters, "She says that about every night."
"But she really means it this time." The pop of Parker's gum seems almost to echo in the tiny room.
Phoebe ignores it as she places her hand over the slight bulge where she knows the besom lays. For one quick moment, she remembers riding a besom much like this one, only larger, over the moon itself. Tears do sparkle in her eyes this time, one large one rolling down her cheek and splashing onto her pale top. At least she's no longer in the straight jacket, not like some of them, not like Parker will be again when they find out she's been stealing again, but still, she longs for the freedom, the magic, and the power she once had.
She jumps again when Samantha's hand gently touches her shoulder. She shies away from the touch, and the blonde steps back, giving her room.
Parker has stopped jumping and is instead intently looking at Phoebe, her head cocked to one side. "Why the 'tude?" she asks, having picked up the slang from the one person in the asylum who spends the most time in a straight jacket. Phoebe knows nothing about that girl other than that her name is Faith.
"I'm sorry, Parker," she says with an exasperated sigh, "but I'm just tired."
"It's more than that." Samantha's words are almost a whisper.
"Hell, yeah, it is! I'm sick of this place, and I'm sick of all the tall tales that these other women tell about how they're going to get out of here! A talking, white rabbit? A man made of straw and another of tin and a talking lion?! And let's not forget Sarah's freaking Goblin King who turns into a damn owl!"
"He did show up last night," Parker interjects.
"No, he didn't, Parker. He didn't, because he doesn't exist! Come on, if her lover was a King, don't you know he would've busted her out of this place years ago?!"
"Have we been in here years?"
Parker pops her gum again. "I pretty much grew up here."
Phoebe softens at that reminder. "Yeah," she says, looking sadly at her, "you did. I'm sorry, Parker. I'm just tired, and the weather's got me moody, and . . . And I miss my sisters."
"You had sisters? You never told me about them. I was an only child."
Sometimes, Phoebe wonders if she was. She wonders if the few memories she retains are actually that or if they're like the memories Sarah, Dorothy, and Alice possess: mere figments of her imagination. After all, if she'd truly had sisters who loved her, wouldn't they have come by now? It seems like she's been in this place forever, although, unlike Parker, she didn't have the misfortune to grow up here.
"I'm sorry," she says again and finds she can no longer look at them. She walks over to her bed, sits down, draws her knees up to her chest, and wraps her thin arms around them. Huddling there, she turns her head to look away from them and out through the metal bars blocking their exit from the one small window they're somehow lucky enough to have in this room. Sarah's the only other one she knows with a window.
Beyond the bars, she can see the night sky and realizes it's stopped storming at last. The clouds have parted, and the moon has come out. Tears spill down her face, but she remembers. She remembers riding the broom over the moon. She remembers that there is power in the words she uses. She remembers her sisters.
Parker's already bounced out of the room, and besides, Phoebe's forgotten about the other women as she sits alone on the verge of another complete breakdown. "I am a Witch," she whispers, "and I do have sisters."
Standing in the doorway, Samantha hears Phoebe's whispered admission and smiles. "There is power in the words," she whispers, and she hopes with all her heart that Phoebe's sisters, Dorothy's men, Sarah's King, Alice's rabbit, her own daddy or even her mother will come for them. Some one will come for them . . . she hopes. She would pray if she thought it would do any good, but for now, she trails behind Parker and leaves the other Witch alone . . . for now.
The End
