(no subject)
Jun. 13th, 2006 01:49 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
giddygeekNext snippet!
John/Rodney, prompt: red and yellow.
2200 words for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
flambeau. :)
When the Universe Tries to Tell You Something
*
On P4L-997, McKay was befriended by a giant bird thing.
"Untali Caral," Ronon said, sounding a little awed, which was strange enough to make John reach for his P90. Ronon looked at him like he was the stupidest human being ever, a look he and Rodney had in common, and said, "It's the bird of passion."
"It'll be Kentucky Fried if it doesn't move." Rodney batted at the bird, which leaned over him like a glossy, feathered giraffe.
"Don't do that," John snapped at Rodney. The giant bird also came equipped with a razor sharp horn, huge talons, and really, really nasty breath.
Rodney wrinkled his nose. "Tell me, Colonel, what should I do when the giant bird thing tries to eat my head? Stand still and let it?"
"Colonel Sheppard is right," Teyla said. She smiled at Narla, their guide. "If I remember my father's stories correctly, the Untali Caral are not violent creatures. They are quite gentle, and it is a high honor to attract their attention."
Narla nodded. She was beaming, clearly delighted by Teyla's understanding. "Yes, yes, a high honor indeed. Dr. McKay will be allowed to pluck a feather, one for each of you. Wear them each time you return to our world, and you will find that you are celebrated wherever you go!"
"Huh," Rodney said. "Celebrated?"
"McKay," John said.
"I'm just asking," Rodney said. He stopped batting at the bird and allowed it to fuss over him. Its sharp beak was a little too close to Rodney's neck for John's taste, but it was making happy, purring noises, and Narla didn't seem concerned at all--she simply seemed delighted.
Rodney flinched once when the bird thing began to groom his hair with its long, thin beak, but then stood still. Narla murmured approvingly, and Rodney eyed her with interest. They had beans on this planet, lots of beans, including one variety popular in Pegasus as a sweetener. They also had lots of adorable blonde villagers.
When Rodney asked, "So where exactly should I pluck the feathers from?" John knew exactly what he was thinking.
"Here," Narla said with her hand on her chest, just above her very pretty cleavage, and John rolled his eyes.
"Is it going to go for my throat with those talons?" Rodney asked as the bird thing nuzzled him. "Spit acid? Breathe fire? Cause a supernova in another universe? Urinate on my foot?"
Narla was giggling. "They are truly as gentle as they are wise," she said. "You have nothing to fear."
"Gentle creatures don't seem to last long in this galaxy," John said.
Teyla nodded. "This is why the Dolem value them so. Gentleness is a precious gift."
"So to reward the kind bird, I yank it bald?" Rodney reached out and awkwardly patted the Untali Caral on its chest. "That hardly seems fair."
"Clear a few damaged feathers, comb them down, and then select four of the whole ones," Narla said. "That is what our people do when we are permitted to touch them. They seem to enjoy it."
"Right," Rodney said, and took a deep breath. He shot John a brief look that seemed to say 'if this goes wrong, I expect to be rescued immediately' or maybe 'if this goes wrong, tell no one I was killed by a bird adored by an entire planet,' or possibly both. John shifted his grip on the P90, and Rodney sank his hand into the abundant feathers of the Untali Caral's chest.
It cooed and pushed into his hands, and Rodney hummed a little. "Very soft," he said. "But there are a lot of broken feathers underneath." Small feathers began drifting to the ground, most of them looking like strange blue and green cotton balls. The bird thing closed its eyes almost completely, and only blinked when Rodney took another deep breath and quickly plucked four long, perfect feathers.
Nobody moved. Rodney was waiting to be disemboweled, but the bird thing seemed perfectly content to stand where it was. It rested comfortably against Rodney, who said, "Now what?" when it seemed clear he wasn't going to die.
"Continue until she has decided she is ready to go," Narla said, slowly reaching forward to take the feathers from Rodney's hand. John noticed that she slid one through her fingers and watched it for a moment, seeming to hold her breath. When she sighed and looked up, she caught his gaze and blushed faintly, then handed him the feather. She gave one to Teyla, and the other to Ronon.
"This is indeed an honor," Teyla said, cradling the feather carefully. "I thank you, Narla, for allowing us to receive these gifts."
"It is an honor for my family, that I am so close to one of the great Untali Caral," Narla said, bowing a little. "I thank you for bringing these wonderful travelers to our home."
"And I, the honored, wonderful traveler, wish to know how much longer I have to stand here fondling a great, big bird," Rodney said, but his voice was surprisingly mild, and Narla only laughed and bowed again.
"They do not linger," she told him. "You will not be inconvenienced much longer."
John looked at her sharply, but her smile seemed genuine, if a little sad, and she seemed perfectly contect to stand and wait, watching Rodney scratch the Untali Caral until the bird sighed, opened its eyes, and took a step back.
Rodney froze, his hand in the air, but the Untali Caral just shook itself, poked at him gently with its beak one more time, and then darted off into the forest again. It was clearly flightless, but fast as hell, and had disappeared within seconds.
"Come," Narla said when it was gone. "The day grows warm. Return with me to the village, and I will show you how to find the truth of the feathers."
*
"They're actually sharp like razor blades, and we'll touch them and bleed to death as a sacrifice," Rodney whispered as they followed Narla back to the village.
"It's a drinking game," John said.
"Poisonous oils!"
"Sex toys."
Rodney glared at him. "That's right, make light of our imminent demise."
John patted him on the back. "I promise, I would not be making light of the situation if either of us actually thought we were going to face death by feather in the village."
Rodney sniffed. "Liar."
John nodded. "I still don't think we're going to die, though."
"No," Rodney said. His shoulders slumped. They walked in silence, past trees and trees and more trees, an endless wall of green.
"Maybe they're covered in parasites that'll get in our pores and suck our blood," John offered after a while.
Rodney perked right back up again. "In this galaxy? You know, that's so plausible--and to think I was wrist deep--"
*
Narla gave them each a big glass of a clear liquid that smelled sweet. It tasted like flat ginger ale, but it was cold and there was lots of it, so John didn't mind. She sat down across from them at her big table, and smiled.
"The truth of the feathers is as old and reliable as Spring," she said. "Clasp your hands together, like this," and she pressed her palms together, "and then run the feather through your fingers."
Teyla immediately pressed her palms together. Ronon scratched his temple, then shrugged and clasped his hands together too. John followed their lead, not seeing any harm, but Rodney hesitated until Teyla smiled at him, her determined 'you will not embarass me' smile. Then, reluctantly, he pressed his hands together.
Ronon was the first to run his feather through his fingers. They all stared at it afterwards, and watched as it slowly took on a deeper blue glow, shining in the dim light of Narla's cozy kitchen.
"Pretty," he said, which made John look at him in surprise. Ronon just shrugged at him, saluted Narla with his feather, and tucked it into his hair.
Teyla smiled at them all, then touched her feather. A moment later, it too seemed to shimmer more brightly, but had taken on a greener color. She murmured appreciatively, and turned it this way and that, watching the light glint off of it.
John licked his lips, then ran his feather through his fingers. It tickled a little, not unpleasantly--the feathers were incredibly soft, sort of like a peacock's, but even finer. He held it up for everyone to see, expecting it to gleam blue, surprised to see it lighten to green, and then keep lightening, the color changing entirely. After a couple minutes, his feather was a bright, glossy gold.
He looked at Narla, who was smiling at him. "That is normal," she said. "I will tell you why in a moment, after Dr. McKay has done his."
Rodney shifted awkwardly on the bench. "You can't tell us now?"
"Rodney--"
"Yes, yes." Rodney picked up his feather, then pulled it through his fingers quickly and put it back down, like it was dangerous. John sighed at him, then watched his feather deepen to a rich purple shade, then gradually lighten again to a bright, blood red.
"Uhoh," Rodney said, in his imminent doom voice. "Do I have to be sacrificed now?"
Narla was laughing. "Oh, Dr. McKay, no," she said, and leaned forward to pour him another glass of the flat ginger ale drink. "These are the feathers of the Untali Caral, the bird of passion. They react to each person differently. Most get the green or the blue. Some get the red and yellow, and those always come in a pair. Do you see?"
"I don't care what you've heard," Rodney said. "I'm not sleeping with him."
John kicked him under the table.
"Oww!" Rodney said, glaring at him. "What, you want a feather to decide you're gay? Is that what you were expecting from your trip to the Pegasus galaxy?"
Narla was laughing herself sick, wheezing. "No, no," she said, waving a hand. "It is not necessarily that kind of passion. It is simply--a bond. Sometimes you see it between bitter enemies, or a grandparent and grandchild, siblings, lovers, friends, husbands and wives. It does not seem to matter what you are, simply who you are."
Rodney wasn't listening. He pointed at John. "I'm not marrying him again, either," he said. "Twice was enough. I'm not falling for any blah-blah lifebond stuff this time!"
"Hey," John said. "Last time they were really going to kill me if we didn't get married!"
Rodney sniffed. "And the time before that we were just stupid and fell for a practical joke. Pardon me for getting a little more cautious, Colonel."
"Pardon me for finding marriage to you a little more palatable than painful death!" John said, then he sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, glared at his feather. It shone back at him, as bright and shiny as a gold coin.
"Oh, I can see why the Untali Caral chose you," Narla said, wiping her eyes. "Please, return often. I imagine we will greatly enjoy your visits!"
"We will enjoy them as well, Narla," Teyla said, rising from the table. She smiled at John, Rodney and Ronon until they all rose too, Rodney still grumbling. "May we bring our leader with us when we next return? I believe she would greatly enjoy speaking with your people, and perhaps could come to an agreement regarding the trade we had discussed."
"Certainly," Narla said, leading them from the room, back into the bright, sunlit garden. "Perhaps she too will gift us with a visit from the Untali Caral. And if not, I will always have the memory of this afternoon."
She turned to Teyla at the gate to the garden, and gripped her shoulders. Teyla smiled and tipped her head down to briefly rest her forehead against Narla's, and then they pressed cheek to cheek, the Dolem version of a hug goodbye. The rest of the team followed her example, and then they walked past her, back on the long, boring road to the stargate.
*
"Do you ever think this galaxy is trying to tell us something, McKay?" John asked as they strolled along, shoulder to shoulder, watching Teyla and Ronon walk ahead of them. He twirled his feather between his finger tips, enjoying the way it glittered in the sun.
Rodney was frowning down at his own feather, impossibly red and glossy against the pale skin of his palm. Then he looked sideways at John, still frowning a little, and said, "Maybe. Sometimes. Once in a while."
John licked his lips. "Huh," he said casually. "Do you ever think we should--?"
Rodney stopped walking. John turned to face him, and Rodney said, "I'm listening. Are you?"
John studied Rodney's face for a moment, a little sunburned, a little tired, a little nervous, a lot intense.
"Yeah." John twirled his feather again, then tucked it into a strap, making sure it was secure. He smiled a little, and after a moment, Rodney smiled back at him. John touched his shoulder and said, "I'm listening."
John/Rodney, prompt: red and yellow.
2200 words for
flambeau. :) When the Universe Tries to Tell You Something
*
On P4L-997, McKay was befriended by a giant bird thing.
"Untali Caral," Ronon said, sounding a little awed, which was strange enough to make John reach for his P90. Ronon looked at him like he was the stupidest human being ever, a look he and Rodney had in common, and said, "It's the bird of passion."
"It'll be Kentucky Fried if it doesn't move." Rodney batted at the bird, which leaned over him like a glossy, feathered giraffe.
"Don't do that," John snapped at Rodney. The giant bird also came equipped with a razor sharp horn, huge talons, and really, really nasty breath.
Rodney wrinkled his nose. "Tell me, Colonel, what should I do when the giant bird thing tries to eat my head? Stand still and let it?"
"Colonel Sheppard is right," Teyla said. She smiled at Narla, their guide. "If I remember my father's stories correctly, the Untali Caral are not violent creatures. They are quite gentle, and it is a high honor to attract their attention."
Narla nodded. She was beaming, clearly delighted by Teyla's understanding. "Yes, yes, a high honor indeed. Dr. McKay will be allowed to pluck a feather, one for each of you. Wear them each time you return to our world, and you will find that you are celebrated wherever you go!"
"Huh," Rodney said. "Celebrated?"
"McKay," John said.
"I'm just asking," Rodney said. He stopped batting at the bird and allowed it to fuss over him. Its sharp beak was a little too close to Rodney's neck for John's taste, but it was making happy, purring noises, and Narla didn't seem concerned at all--she simply seemed delighted.
Rodney flinched once when the bird thing began to groom his hair with its long, thin beak, but then stood still. Narla murmured approvingly, and Rodney eyed her with interest. They had beans on this planet, lots of beans, including one variety popular in Pegasus as a sweetener. They also had lots of adorable blonde villagers.
When Rodney asked, "So where exactly should I pluck the feathers from?" John knew exactly what he was thinking.
"Here," Narla said with her hand on her chest, just above her very pretty cleavage, and John rolled his eyes.
"Is it going to go for my throat with those talons?" Rodney asked as the bird thing nuzzled him. "Spit acid? Breathe fire? Cause a supernova in another universe? Urinate on my foot?"
Narla was giggling. "They are truly as gentle as they are wise," she said. "You have nothing to fear."
"Gentle creatures don't seem to last long in this galaxy," John said.
Teyla nodded. "This is why the Dolem value them so. Gentleness is a precious gift."
"So to reward the kind bird, I yank it bald?" Rodney reached out and awkwardly patted the Untali Caral on its chest. "That hardly seems fair."
"Clear a few damaged feathers, comb them down, and then select four of the whole ones," Narla said. "That is what our people do when we are permitted to touch them. They seem to enjoy it."
"Right," Rodney said, and took a deep breath. He shot John a brief look that seemed to say 'if this goes wrong, I expect to be rescued immediately' or maybe 'if this goes wrong, tell no one I was killed by a bird adored by an entire planet,' or possibly both. John shifted his grip on the P90, and Rodney sank his hand into the abundant feathers of the Untali Caral's chest.
It cooed and pushed into his hands, and Rodney hummed a little. "Very soft," he said. "But there are a lot of broken feathers underneath." Small feathers began drifting to the ground, most of them looking like strange blue and green cotton balls. The bird thing closed its eyes almost completely, and only blinked when Rodney took another deep breath and quickly plucked four long, perfect feathers.
Nobody moved. Rodney was waiting to be disemboweled, but the bird thing seemed perfectly content to stand where it was. It rested comfortably against Rodney, who said, "Now what?" when it seemed clear he wasn't going to die.
"Continue until she has decided she is ready to go," Narla said, slowly reaching forward to take the feathers from Rodney's hand. John noticed that she slid one through her fingers and watched it for a moment, seeming to hold her breath. When she sighed and looked up, she caught his gaze and blushed faintly, then handed him the feather. She gave one to Teyla, and the other to Ronon.
"This is indeed an honor," Teyla said, cradling the feather carefully. "I thank you, Narla, for allowing us to receive these gifts."
"It is an honor for my family, that I am so close to one of the great Untali Caral," Narla said, bowing a little. "I thank you for bringing these wonderful travelers to our home."
"And I, the honored, wonderful traveler, wish to know how much longer I have to stand here fondling a great, big bird," Rodney said, but his voice was surprisingly mild, and Narla only laughed and bowed again.
"They do not linger," she told him. "You will not be inconvenienced much longer."
John looked at her sharply, but her smile seemed genuine, if a little sad, and she seemed perfectly contect to stand and wait, watching Rodney scratch the Untali Caral until the bird sighed, opened its eyes, and took a step back.
Rodney froze, his hand in the air, but the Untali Caral just shook itself, poked at him gently with its beak one more time, and then darted off into the forest again. It was clearly flightless, but fast as hell, and had disappeared within seconds.
"Come," Narla said when it was gone. "The day grows warm. Return with me to the village, and I will show you how to find the truth of the feathers."
*
"They're actually sharp like razor blades, and we'll touch them and bleed to death as a sacrifice," Rodney whispered as they followed Narla back to the village.
"It's a drinking game," John said.
"Poisonous oils!"
"Sex toys."
Rodney glared at him. "That's right, make light of our imminent demise."
John patted him on the back. "I promise, I would not be making light of the situation if either of us actually thought we were going to face death by feather in the village."
Rodney sniffed. "Liar."
John nodded. "I still don't think we're going to die, though."
"No," Rodney said. His shoulders slumped. They walked in silence, past trees and trees and more trees, an endless wall of green.
"Maybe they're covered in parasites that'll get in our pores and suck our blood," John offered after a while.
Rodney perked right back up again. "In this galaxy? You know, that's so plausible--and to think I was wrist deep--"
*
Narla gave them each a big glass of a clear liquid that smelled sweet. It tasted like flat ginger ale, but it was cold and there was lots of it, so John didn't mind. She sat down across from them at her big table, and smiled.
"The truth of the feathers is as old and reliable as Spring," she said. "Clasp your hands together, like this," and she pressed her palms together, "and then run the feather through your fingers."
Teyla immediately pressed her palms together. Ronon scratched his temple, then shrugged and clasped his hands together too. John followed their lead, not seeing any harm, but Rodney hesitated until Teyla smiled at him, her determined 'you will not embarass me' smile. Then, reluctantly, he pressed his hands together.
Ronon was the first to run his feather through his fingers. They all stared at it afterwards, and watched as it slowly took on a deeper blue glow, shining in the dim light of Narla's cozy kitchen.
"Pretty," he said, which made John look at him in surprise. Ronon just shrugged at him, saluted Narla with his feather, and tucked it into his hair.
Teyla smiled at them all, then touched her feather. A moment later, it too seemed to shimmer more brightly, but had taken on a greener color. She murmured appreciatively, and turned it this way and that, watching the light glint off of it.
John licked his lips, then ran his feather through his fingers. It tickled a little, not unpleasantly--the feathers were incredibly soft, sort of like a peacock's, but even finer. He held it up for everyone to see, expecting it to gleam blue, surprised to see it lighten to green, and then keep lightening, the color changing entirely. After a couple minutes, his feather was a bright, glossy gold.
He looked at Narla, who was smiling at him. "That is normal," she said. "I will tell you why in a moment, after Dr. McKay has done his."
Rodney shifted awkwardly on the bench. "You can't tell us now?"
"Rodney--"
"Yes, yes." Rodney picked up his feather, then pulled it through his fingers quickly and put it back down, like it was dangerous. John sighed at him, then watched his feather deepen to a rich purple shade, then gradually lighten again to a bright, blood red.
"Uhoh," Rodney said, in his imminent doom voice. "Do I have to be sacrificed now?"
Narla was laughing. "Oh, Dr. McKay, no," she said, and leaned forward to pour him another glass of the flat ginger ale drink. "These are the feathers of the Untali Caral, the bird of passion. They react to each person differently. Most get the green or the blue. Some get the red and yellow, and those always come in a pair. Do you see?"
"I don't care what you've heard," Rodney said. "I'm not sleeping with him."
John kicked him under the table.
"Oww!" Rodney said, glaring at him. "What, you want a feather to decide you're gay? Is that what you were expecting from your trip to the Pegasus galaxy?"
Narla was laughing herself sick, wheezing. "No, no," she said, waving a hand. "It is not necessarily that kind of passion. It is simply--a bond. Sometimes you see it between bitter enemies, or a grandparent and grandchild, siblings, lovers, friends, husbands and wives. It does not seem to matter what you are, simply who you are."
Rodney wasn't listening. He pointed at John. "I'm not marrying him again, either," he said. "Twice was enough. I'm not falling for any blah-blah lifebond stuff this time!"
"Hey," John said. "Last time they were really going to kill me if we didn't get married!"
Rodney sniffed. "And the time before that we were just stupid and fell for a practical joke. Pardon me for getting a little more cautious, Colonel."
"Pardon me for finding marriage to you a little more palatable than painful death!" John said, then he sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, glared at his feather. It shone back at him, as bright and shiny as a gold coin.
"Oh, I can see why the Untali Caral chose you," Narla said, wiping her eyes. "Please, return often. I imagine we will greatly enjoy your visits!"
"We will enjoy them as well, Narla," Teyla said, rising from the table. She smiled at John, Rodney and Ronon until they all rose too, Rodney still grumbling. "May we bring our leader with us when we next return? I believe she would greatly enjoy speaking with your people, and perhaps could come to an agreement regarding the trade we had discussed."
"Certainly," Narla said, leading them from the room, back into the bright, sunlit garden. "Perhaps she too will gift us with a visit from the Untali Caral. And if not, I will always have the memory of this afternoon."
She turned to Teyla at the gate to the garden, and gripped her shoulders. Teyla smiled and tipped her head down to briefly rest her forehead against Narla's, and then they pressed cheek to cheek, the Dolem version of a hug goodbye. The rest of the team followed her example, and then they walked past her, back on the long, boring road to the stargate.
*
"Do you ever think this galaxy is trying to tell us something, McKay?" John asked as they strolled along, shoulder to shoulder, watching Teyla and Ronon walk ahead of them. He twirled his feather between his finger tips, enjoying the way it glittered in the sun.
Rodney was frowning down at his own feather, impossibly red and glossy against the pale skin of his palm. Then he looked sideways at John, still frowning a little, and said, "Maybe. Sometimes. Once in a while."
John licked his lips. "Huh," he said casually. "Do you ever think we should--?"
Rodney stopped walking. John turned to face him, and Rodney said, "I'm listening. Are you?"
John studied Rodney's face for a moment, a little sunburned, a little tired, a little nervous, a lot intense.
"Yeah." John twirled his feather again, then tucked it into a strap, making sure it was secure. He smiled a little, and after a moment, Rodney smiled back at him. John touched his shoulder and said, "I'm listening."
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-06-13 04:52 pm (UTC)I always worry that I'm abandoning poor Teyla and Ronon. I love writing them, and they're so much fun, but Sheppard and McKay are totally distracting. ;-) So I'm very glad to hear you say 'whole characters'! Thank you!