Prompt: marigold
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tamingthemuseTitle: Serenity Valley
Fandom: Firefly (pre-series)
Prompt: Marigold
Warnings: War and death
Rating: G
Word Count: 512
Disclaimer: Borrowing someone else’s toys. I promise not to break them.
Summary: The end.
He’d been real hopeful when the transports set them down in Serenity Valley. They got to the battleground first, giving them plenty of chances to seed the pretty green meadows and rolling hillsides with mines and razor wire. Lots of time to scope out the lay of the land and to find what cover they could.
Besides, it reminded him of home.
The sun was warm on his back as they set mines and disguised them with pulled grass. The grass itself was long and dense. He’d been a soldier for a long time, but he’d been born to be a rancher and couldn’t help but mentally rank this as “damn fine grazing”. When he finally came across a couple of empty buildings, the moldering harness bits and bins filled with leftover feed told him his hunch was right.
He could picture the green hills covered in huge but gentle cattle of the type his family had bred and raised for decades. Their giant heads would be buried in the deep grasses, raised only occasionally to check on the calves frolicking at their sides. At night, soft lowing would echo through the darkness, keeping the herd together even when there was nothing but starlight to see by. On hot days, the herd would gather in the low spots between the hills where the creek ran, the brilliant colours of yellow marsh marigolds and bluebells marking it’s meandering path. The same flowers showed the low marshy spots here in Serenity Valley, too.
Two weeks later, there wasn’t much cause for hope left. What remained of the Independent Army was running for the Rim, but that wasn’t much. Most of it lay dead on the fields of Serenity Valley, overwhelmed by superior numbers and the Alliance air support.
Course, there were always a few too stubborn to die. Those few survivors on the ground had been abandoned by officers unwilling to risk being in battle themselves. Instead, the Browncoat brass hovered above in their ships, safe from the blood and mud, and always keeping an eye on their escape route.
There was definitely no escape route for those left in Serenity Valley, unless you considered death an escape. There was no way out of the Valley, much less off planet. The Alliance held the high ground, picking off anyone who tried to sneak past and keeping the Browncoats trapped in the muddy bowl that Serenity Valley had become.
The thick grass was long gone, blown up and trampled out of existence. There were few signs of life, the meadows nothing but knee-deep mud. Despite the standoff, there was no peace in the Valley. Gunshots, moans and screams still sounded through the night air, a far cry from the lowing cattle he’d envisioned in the peace before battle. He thought there might still be stars, but there was thick smoke blocking out most of the sky. Besides, they’d just remind him of what he’d fought for and lost.
Home. Independence. Safety. Freedom. Grand ideals that were abandoned as fast as the soldiers in Serenity Valley.
Fandom: Firefly (pre-series)
Prompt: Marigold
Warnings: War and death
Rating: G
Word Count: 512
Disclaimer: Borrowing someone else’s toys. I promise not to break them.
Summary: The end.
He’d been real hopeful when the transports set them down in Serenity Valley. They got to the battleground first, giving them plenty of chances to seed the pretty green meadows and rolling hillsides with mines and razor wire. Lots of time to scope out the lay of the land and to find what cover they could.
Besides, it reminded him of home.
The sun was warm on his back as they set mines and disguised them with pulled grass. The grass itself was long and dense. He’d been a soldier for a long time, but he’d been born to be a rancher and couldn’t help but mentally rank this as “damn fine grazing”. When he finally came across a couple of empty buildings, the moldering harness bits and bins filled with leftover feed told him his hunch was right.
He could picture the green hills covered in huge but gentle cattle of the type his family had bred and raised for decades. Their giant heads would be buried in the deep grasses, raised only occasionally to check on the calves frolicking at their sides. At night, soft lowing would echo through the darkness, keeping the herd together even when there was nothing but starlight to see by. On hot days, the herd would gather in the low spots between the hills where the creek ran, the brilliant colours of yellow marsh marigolds and bluebells marking it’s meandering path. The same flowers showed the low marshy spots here in Serenity Valley, too.
Two weeks later, there wasn’t much cause for hope left. What remained of the Independent Army was running for the Rim, but that wasn’t much. Most of it lay dead on the fields of Serenity Valley, overwhelmed by superior numbers and the Alliance air support.
Course, there were always a few too stubborn to die. Those few survivors on the ground had been abandoned by officers unwilling to risk being in battle themselves. Instead, the Browncoat brass hovered above in their ships, safe from the blood and mud, and always keeping an eye on their escape route.
There was definitely no escape route for those left in Serenity Valley, unless you considered death an escape. There was no way out of the Valley, much less off planet. The Alliance held the high ground, picking off anyone who tried to sneak past and keeping the Browncoats trapped in the muddy bowl that Serenity Valley had become.
The thick grass was long gone, blown up and trampled out of existence. There were few signs of life, the meadows nothing but knee-deep mud. Despite the standoff, there was no peace in the Valley. Gunshots, moans and screams still sounded through the night air, a far cry from the lowing cattle he’d envisioned in the peace before battle. He thought there might still be stars, but there was thick smoke blocking out most of the sky. Besides, they’d just remind him of what he’d fought for and lost.
Home. Independence. Safety. Freedom. Grand ideals that were abandoned as fast as the soldiers in Serenity Valley.
no subject
Date: 2008-01-27 01:20 pm (UTC)giving them plenty of chances to seed the pretty green meadows and rolling hillsides with mines and razor wire What a contradiction here, and it works beautifully.
Abandoned or lost ideals are intensely personal, and you've done a really nice job of taking those of and displaying them from still cherished to obliterated in a tightly packaged piece. Well done.
no subject
Date: 2008-01-27 06:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-27 03:10 pm (UTC)Right from the start, the harsh contrast between peace and war, in one sentence - The sun was warm on his back as they set mines and disguised them with pulled grass. caught me.
And by the end, the resignation to abandonment and loss and the graphic description of physical devastation... *sighs* made me think of Flanders in 1916.
Very well done.
no subject
Date: 2008-01-27 06:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-28 12:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-28 02:23 am (UTC)