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crack_van2006-03-24 03:25 pm
poohmusings.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2006-03-24 03:25 pm
Entry tags:
An Offering to Hestia by Christina K (PG)
Fandom: BATTLESTAR GALACTICA 2003
Pairing: None
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
butterflykiki
Author Website: The Chaos Horizon
Why this must be read: And here's yet another story that was written for the Common People challenge. (It'll be my last one. Promise!)
The premise is relatively simple: someone has to prepare a final list of the dead and, in the process, link back together those who are looking for each other. But the execution is anything but simple. Through the OC of Cynthia, we run through an entire gamut of raw emotions, almost as if we're right there with her, fighting to stay awake, stay sane, remain hopeful.
During the infinite jumps— over and over and over and over— she and Dee and Eric traded off the comms. She’d gotten so punch drunk at one point that words stopped making sense, coordinates failed to register in order, and when she couldn’t tell how many ships were left, she had to snag her thumb on edge of the dradis casing, make it bleed, let the pain bring her back from the edge. She’d felt trapped underwater, everything thick and far away without any idea where the surface was. Recite coordinates. Count ships. Lather, rinse, repeat; could’ve been doing it for years, for decades. She’d always been doing it. Cynthia had tried to think of something to look forward to, after (please lords, let there be an after) the nightmare of constant hyperspace was over.
An Offering to Hestia
Pairing: None
Author on LJ:
butterflykikiAuthor Website: The Chaos Horizon
Why this must be read: And here's yet another story that was written for the Common People challenge. (It'll be my last one. Promise!)
The premise is relatively simple: someone has to prepare a final list of the dead and, in the process, link back together those who are looking for each other. But the execution is anything but simple. Through the OC of Cynthia, we run through an entire gamut of raw emotions, almost as if we're right there with her, fighting to stay awake, stay sane, remain hopeful.
During the infinite jumps— over and over and over and over— she and Dee and Eric traded off the comms. She’d gotten so punch drunk at one point that words stopped making sense, coordinates failed to register in order, and when she couldn’t tell how many ships were left, she had to snag her thumb on edge of the dradis casing, make it bleed, let the pain bring her back from the edge. She’d felt trapped underwater, everything thick and far away without any idea where the surface was. Recite coordinates. Count ships. Lather, rinse, repeat; could’ve been doing it for years, for decades. She’d always been doing it. Cynthia had tried to think of something to look forward to, after (please lords, let there be an after) the nightmare of constant hyperspace was over.
An Offering to Hestia