Post by Quill on Nov 3, 2009 20:46:15 GMT -5
Alright, I dunno why I'm putting this here. I started watching Code Geass and some mixture of Johnny Young Bosch's voice acting, my obsession with Death Note, and Lelouch's chess fetish inspired me. In case you were wondering, this weird little drabble thing is exactly 400 words long. So yeah, it's Light and Lelouch playing chess. In an abstract bull-shit writing kind of way. Joy.
If the king doesn’t lead, how can he expect his subordinates to follow?
The king cannot rule without sacrificing a few pawns.
The board is set. White faced Black, standing tall, both sides awaiting orders from their masters. Amber eyes met a singular violet, weapons concealed and neutralized on both sides. Pale slender fingers closed around the first piece of choice.
A white pawn slid obediently into position.
The black king followed suit.
Another white pawn moved into place.
A black knight claimed the tiny piece.
A white bishop became a barricade for the king.
The king claimed an idle knight.
Eyes were constantly moving, tracking the pieces, following imaginary lines of movement. Occasionally they would meet, amber against violet, identical icy pits of cold, calculating strategy. No victory could be found there, only the desire for it, the knowledge that it was already within reach.
The black knight claimed the second bishop, pushed into place to keep its leader secure.
A white rook overthrew its black counterpart.
The black king continued to advance, while the white king stood defiantly among a diminishing horde of minions. Rooks were pawns. Bishops were pawns. The only thing with any value was the king. Anything else was a barricade.
Two white pawns cleverly herded the black queen into a corner, easily claimed by a third.
The black king advanced. The white king pushed more minions ahead.
Fingers hovered uncertainly before closing around the piece, the first show of hesitation since the game began. The board was much emptier than when the battle had started. Other, less favorable options spread before him, which he brushed away distastefully. With reluctance, the white queen moved into place, a last ditch attempt keep the king out of play. The black king fearlessly continued its advance. No emotion showed on the face of either player, no hint that one side had the advantage. No side did.
“Check.” A black bishop blocked the exit, forcing the white king forward.
“Check,” his opponent echoed, his final pawn- the second rook- standing defiantly at the king’s side.
No other words passed between them. Their eyes met, each trying to break the other.
A few moves finished off any extraneous pieces- only the kings mattered.
Pale fingers closed around the king, moving one space. It was only one word, barely above a whisper, practically deafening. “Checkmate.”
The king fell.
If the king doesn’t lead, how can he expect his subordinates to follow?
The king cannot rule without sacrificing a few pawns.
The board is set. White faced Black, standing tall, both sides awaiting orders from their masters. Amber eyes met a singular violet, weapons concealed and neutralized on both sides. Pale slender fingers closed around the first piece of choice.
A white pawn slid obediently into position.
The black king followed suit.
Another white pawn moved into place.
A black knight claimed the tiny piece.
A white bishop became a barricade for the king.
The king claimed an idle knight.
Eyes were constantly moving, tracking the pieces, following imaginary lines of movement. Occasionally they would meet, amber against violet, identical icy pits of cold, calculating strategy. No victory could be found there, only the desire for it, the knowledge that it was already within reach.
The black knight claimed the second bishop, pushed into place to keep its leader secure.
A white rook overthrew its black counterpart.
The black king continued to advance, while the white king stood defiantly among a diminishing horde of minions. Rooks were pawns. Bishops were pawns. The only thing with any value was the king. Anything else was a barricade.
Two white pawns cleverly herded the black queen into a corner, easily claimed by a third.
The black king advanced. The white king pushed more minions ahead.
Fingers hovered uncertainly before closing around the piece, the first show of hesitation since the game began. The board was much emptier than when the battle had started. Other, less favorable options spread before him, which he brushed away distastefully. With reluctance, the white queen moved into place, a last ditch attempt keep the king out of play. The black king fearlessly continued its advance. No emotion showed on the face of either player, no hint that one side had the advantage. No side did.
“Check.” A black bishop blocked the exit, forcing the white king forward.
“Check,” his opponent echoed, his final pawn- the second rook- standing defiantly at the king’s side.
No other words passed between them. Their eyes met, each trying to break the other.
A few moves finished off any extraneous pieces- only the kings mattered.
Pale fingers closed around the king, moving one space. It was only one word, barely above a whisper, practically deafening. “Checkmate.”
The king fell.
