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beccatoriaSo, I don't usually do this - i.e. write fic. But apparently I did today. I wonder if it will become a trend. It is unbeta'ed because I don't have a BSG beta, and because this is just my journal, and because I'm so floored that I wrote something I don't immediately want to throw away I'd rather get it out there.
I suppose I'll want to throw it away tomorrow, but that's why I'm posting it tonight. Kind of like, taking away my exit strategy.
Hollow Flight
Genre: Tory, Tory/Sam
Wordcount: about 800
Rating: I dunno...PG? PG-13 at most?
Spoilers: Up to the season 3 finale.
Summary: Tory only regrets it when she fails. And one day, there'll be no one left to forgive her when it happens.
When the first nuke hit, Tory felt it in her bones. And Tory is in a unique position to understand the blackhole cliché of this sentiment. Because Tory fixed an election, and Tory put her hand firmly on Duck's shoulder before he walked into that building, and Tory would have put a gun to Ellen Tigh's head herself if she'd known. Tory is not a sentimental person; she doesn't read bad romance fiction; she doesn't believe anyone feels anything in their bones, or their blood or any of their vital organs. Tory is a vulture. Which probably explains why she's frakking Sam Anders.
But when the first nuke hit, Tory felt it in her bones. A void, like the space between magnets, impossible to breach. Her skeleton was hollow and she thought of birds in flight until she realised she had no wings and she was falling. The void - freezerburn cold - climbed her spine, spread into her arms, her legs, her skull; every one of her thoughts was vacuum-sealed, wrapped in the inescapable failure of trying to fly when she had no wings.
She woke up screaming, every one of the people in her compartment startled, staring at her as if her eyes were truck headlights. Like rodents and antelopes and lost housecats thirty seconds from roadkill. Like carrion.
Tory is a vulture, and she's tried to manipulate every one of those people on flight 289, non-stop to Aerilon. It started the second she stormed the cockpit and insisted the captain radio space-traffic control and get a status report on Caprica. It started the second he received the result, and looked at her, reason razed by fear. She could almost hear his heart beat out the question, "Was it you?"
Nothing has filled Tory's hollow skeleton. She dreams (more often now, in Sam's arms) that when she fails again, when her vulture wings and her flesh are seared away by blinding, nuclear failure, she'll fall and smash, and shatter, and there'll be no one left to forgive her.
After New Caprica she didn't see Sam. Not for months. And when she did, the first words he said to her were, "I'm sorry."
She thought he was talking about his drink, all over the front of her shirt. But then he said, "I couldn't stop it." And then he slurred, "I wasn't even awake when it happened."
Tory said, "I'm sorry your wife is dead."
Sam broke his face with laughter; a sound and a grin that reminded Tory of dead earth split in the heat. Then he fell off his stool, and didn't move. A prone figure on the floor of Galactica's hanger-bay-bar. He looked small. Maybe she was far above him. Maybe her vision was spinning. Maybe she was in a desert, the two of them entirely alone. She could be circling at a great height. She could be drunk.
"You want help with him?" the barman - Connor, the man with a dead son - asked her.
Maybe she was drunk. She said, "No. I've got it."
She said, "Connor, on New Caprica, did you ever wonder if what we did..."
"No."
"No," she copied. "No. Neither did I."
"You ever need it," Connor called after her. "You got a tab at the bar."
Tory has always been ambitious, bent on success. It was not until the end of the world hollowed her that she began to fear failure. One day, she believes, something truly important will depend on her, and her fragile shoulders might shatter under the weight.
She let Sam fall into his bunk with the reassuringly solid sound of athletic muscle and mattress. He caught her wrist as she pulled the blanket to his chest.
Tory wondered if that was how she'd look, when she finally came crashing out of the sky. Lonely, and small as a desert rat miles from cover.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"I forgive you," she whispered.
Sam squeezed the tears from his eyes.
"I forgive you," she whispered as she lay down next to him, letting him cry into her moonshine-soaked shirt. She pulled the blanket over them both, pulled the curtains to his rack, and let him fall asleep.
That night Tory felt, more clearly than she had ever felt before, how it would feel to tumble into her own shadow, to end up splayed and broken on the scorched earth.
Tory is a vulture. An opportunist. A pragmatist. Tory will do anything, pretend to be anyone, use the dead for her own means if it will win her a success. But it will not be enough. This knowledge is burned into her, it beats in her skull as her blood pulses, it fills her hollow skeleton.
No matter what she does.
Tory can't get no relief.
And there you have it. My <1000 word angsty vignette full of overly obvious imagery. Aah, I truly was born to be a fic writer! /self-conscious nervous sarcasm. ;)
I suppose I'll want to throw it away tomorrow, but that's why I'm posting it tonight. Kind of like, taking away my exit strategy.
Hollow Flight
Genre: Tory, Tory/Sam
Wordcount: about 800
Rating: I dunno...PG? PG-13 at most?
Spoilers: Up to the season 3 finale.
Summary: Tory only regrets it when she fails. And one day, there'll be no one left to forgive her when it happens.
When the first nuke hit, Tory felt it in her bones. And Tory is in a unique position to understand the blackhole cliché of this sentiment. Because Tory fixed an election, and Tory put her hand firmly on Duck's shoulder before he walked into that building, and Tory would have put a gun to Ellen Tigh's head herself if she'd known. Tory is not a sentimental person; she doesn't read bad romance fiction; she doesn't believe anyone feels anything in their bones, or their blood or any of their vital organs. Tory is a vulture. Which probably explains why she's frakking Sam Anders.
But when the first nuke hit, Tory felt it in her bones. A void, like the space between magnets, impossible to breach. Her skeleton was hollow and she thought of birds in flight until she realised she had no wings and she was falling. The void - freezerburn cold - climbed her spine, spread into her arms, her legs, her skull; every one of her thoughts was vacuum-sealed, wrapped in the inescapable failure of trying to fly when she had no wings.
She woke up screaming, every one of the people in her compartment startled, staring at her as if her eyes were truck headlights. Like rodents and antelopes and lost housecats thirty seconds from roadkill. Like carrion.
Tory is a vulture, and she's tried to manipulate every one of those people on flight 289, non-stop to Aerilon. It started the second she stormed the cockpit and insisted the captain radio space-traffic control and get a status report on Caprica. It started the second he received the result, and looked at her, reason razed by fear. She could almost hear his heart beat out the question, "Was it you?"
Nothing has filled Tory's hollow skeleton. She dreams (more often now, in Sam's arms) that when she fails again, when her vulture wings and her flesh are seared away by blinding, nuclear failure, she'll fall and smash, and shatter, and there'll be no one left to forgive her.
After New Caprica she didn't see Sam. Not for months. And when she did, the first words he said to her were, "I'm sorry."
She thought he was talking about his drink, all over the front of her shirt. But then he said, "I couldn't stop it." And then he slurred, "I wasn't even awake when it happened."
Tory said, "I'm sorry your wife is dead."
Sam broke his face with laughter; a sound and a grin that reminded Tory of dead earth split in the heat. Then he fell off his stool, and didn't move. A prone figure on the floor of Galactica's hanger-bay-bar. He looked small. Maybe she was far above him. Maybe her vision was spinning. Maybe she was in a desert, the two of them entirely alone. She could be circling at a great height. She could be drunk.
"You want help with him?" the barman - Connor, the man with a dead son - asked her.
Maybe she was drunk. She said, "No. I've got it."
She said, "Connor, on New Caprica, did you ever wonder if what we did..."
"No."
"No," she copied. "No. Neither did I."
"You ever need it," Connor called after her. "You got a tab at the bar."
Tory has always been ambitious, bent on success. It was not until the end of the world hollowed her that she began to fear failure. One day, she believes, something truly important will depend on her, and her fragile shoulders might shatter under the weight.
She let Sam fall into his bunk with the reassuringly solid sound of athletic muscle and mattress. He caught her wrist as she pulled the blanket to his chest.
Tory wondered if that was how she'd look, when she finally came crashing out of the sky. Lonely, and small as a desert rat miles from cover.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"I forgive you," she whispered.
Sam squeezed the tears from his eyes.
"I forgive you," she whispered as she lay down next to him, letting him cry into her moonshine-soaked shirt. She pulled the blanket over them both, pulled the curtains to his rack, and let him fall asleep.
That night Tory felt, more clearly than she had ever felt before, how it would feel to tumble into her own shadow, to end up splayed and broken on the scorched earth.
Tory is a vulture. An opportunist. A pragmatist. Tory will do anything, pretend to be anyone, use the dead for her own means if it will win her a success. But it will not be enough. This knowledge is burned into her, it beats in her skull as her blood pulses, it fills her hollow skeleton.
No matter what she does.
Tory can't get no relief.
And there you have it. My <1000 word angsty vignette full of overly obvious imagery. Aah, I truly was born to be a fic writer! /self-conscious nervous sarcasm. ;)
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no subject
Date: 2007-04-10 02:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-11 04:49 pm (UTC)I agree about Tory being a cipher. I was never very interested in her until season three when she stuck around for the resistance and then there was that totally strange apology scene about failure. Which I know is as a result of a cut subplot but as it stands in the episode is just so fascinating and never properly explained.
My characterisation will probably be thrown out the window in Season Four, but I'm looking forward to that. :)
no subject
Date: 2007-04-10 02:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-11 04:51 pm (UTC)Here's to Tory being a less minor character next season!
no subject
Date: 2007-04-13 03:24 am (UTC)I can't say I'm a huge fan of Tory. That is mostly because I don't feel the show has given me the opportunity to get to know her. But reading this I was able to get inside her head and have a better understanding of who she is as a person. And I've been rather stumped as to how she and Sam hooked up and your scenerio seemed very plausible to me. Both are weighed down by guilt and angst and are clinging to each other.
I'd definitely encourage you to write more fic. Especially if it was say about Laura or Lee or both. ;)
no subject
Date: 2007-04-13 12:31 pm (UTC)Hey - no problem, not like it'll expire. :) Stories should only be read if one is in the mood for them anyway!
I agree about Tory being hard to get to know. In some ways I'm worried that I've finally gotten a hold of her character because, well, it'll probably get turned upside down in season four. But I've started to find her a lot more interesting since she a) stuck around during the resistance and then made that...really intense apology for losing Maya and Isis, and b) turned out to be a Cylon. I'm looking forward to seeing her in season four.
Thanks for your comments - it's gratifying to hear that I helped you get inside her head; highest compliment I could receive ;)
With regards to writing more - I'm not that prolific (as you've realised!) and I'm not certain the urge would strike. But if I didn't I certainly wouldn't strangle it.
In the meantime, I'm at least actively working on a Laura/Lee vid. I won't be able to work on it this weekend, but I imagine it'll be done by next weekend *fingers crossed*
no subject
Date: 2007-04-16 03:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-16 07:22 am (UTC)I hope you have a great time while you're away!
no subject
Date: 2007-04-13 12:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-13 12:40 pm (UTC)I love the idea of it - because I'm all for shared ownership and personal interpretation and encouraging communities based around stories and worlds. But I do have an extremely ambivalent relationship re: it and my writing it. Mainly because, like you said, there's some real junk out there. Also because I'm horribly, horribly picky about what I read, and because as much reverence and respect as I have for fanfiction I do think it's a distinct style of writing all its own and that it often doesn't require the same set of skills as original fiction, but it treated as though it does. Plus I figure I ought to be putting my writing time towards original fiction since I do want to be writing original fiction. But...that's a rant for another time. And falls more into the category of wanting to shake fanfic because it could be so much more and it could deserve the praise that's often heaped on it, than disdain for the genre.
Um...enough rambling about that. As I said, it's a rant for another time.
I'm glad that I was able to give some insight into my reading of the character - as I mentioned to Asta above, that's the highest compliment I could receive for this piece as that was the goal.
Tory really is a cursory character and I'm looking forward to her being more developed in season 4 (which will probably blow my characterisation above outta the water!) I wasn't all that interested in her until her bizarrely intense apology to Roslin in the aftermath of New Caprica when it became clear she was a little more than a vulture - that she had genuine emotional connections to the president and convictions and principles beyond the "do anything to win pollster" she was introduced as. Unfortunately, we didn't really see her again until the finale. But I'm really quite psyched about her being a cylon. I think that's going to provide the conflict and screentime her character needs. And more than my personal interest in her, I think her character is interesting but also different to any of the characters and stories they've told already. So that excites me from a purely plot/storyline point of view. :)
Anyway, thanks again for commenting and your icon: love!
no subject
Date: 2007-04-13 03:03 pm (UTC)I read what you said to Asta. Interesting what inspired you to write this. Indeed, that apology did seem very off. Like there was much much more to it. Obviously she's going to have to be more important in S4, but I had no idea how up until this point. I hope your characterization isn't 'sploded because I think it's really strong! Oh forgot to add: love how you tied it all up with the last line!
no subject
Date: 2007-04-14 08:03 am (UTC)Anyway, the apology was originally filmed as her apology for being involved with Zarek's plans for the Circle and knowing that Roslin was so against that and feeling terrible. But that whole subplot was cut so it ended up being her apologising like *crazy* for Maya and Isis even though it really wasn't her fault.
(Which, again, doesn't completely explain where her regard for Laura's forgiveness and loyalty to her comes from, but makes more sense than what we actually SEE).
Still, as it plays, I think it's...better really. It's a more subtle piece of characterisation even though it came about by accident. Also, of course, it plays into my cracked out love of the idea (for which I sadly cannot claim credit) that Tory's secretly in love with Laura and was apologising for getting Laura's current girlfriend and surrogate baby killed down on the planet. Because, seriously, the subtext that Tory's in love with Laura is awesome. Especially since I think Laura probably knows but won't act on it
because she's in love with Lee....someone get me help.
Oh forgot to add: glad the last line worked for you :)
no subject
Date: 2007-06-10 05:03 pm (UTC)*mwahahahaha* this is totally my fault! isn't it? I am filled with glee.
secondly -- WHY DON'T YOU WRITE FANFIC ALL THE TIME?! I mean, you're a writer! and it's so much less laborious than vidding. you should be writing all the Maya/Tory/Laura/Lee/Anders/Starbuck love hexagon fic in the world!
thirdly -- I enjoyed this very much. I'm crazy about Tory, and I love how hard and thorny she is here. it struck me, too, how similar this outlook could be to Laura's (match made in heaven!). and yeah, maybe the metaphors are a little clunky, but the overall spirit and shape of them is right on. WRITE MORE.
no subject
Date: 2007-06-13 08:29 pm (UTC)...it might be more than slightly your fault, yes...
secondly -- WHY DON'T YOU WRITE FANFIC ALL THE TIME?! I mean, you're a writer! and it's so much less laborious than vidding. you should be writing all the Maya/Tory/Laura/Lee/Anders/Starbuck love hexagon fic in the world!
Well, thanks for the encouragement! I think I don't because when I do want to write I try to channel that towards my probably never-to-be-finished original works because I want to finish them. Also towards one or two longer fics (currently a Doctor Who monstrosity and a Farscape/Neverwhere crossover epic) I don't want to post until they're finished and...they'll never be finished. So. Yeah. I don't fic often and I certainly don't fic finished though I wish I did.
Um, also, I wish I were writing crazy Maya/Tory/Laura/Lee/Anders/Starbuck hexagon!fic. Perhaps the fragment I posted earlier today will develop into such, though I doubt I could...carry that level of crack, if that makes sense?
I enjoyed this very much. I'm crazy about Tory, and I love how hard and thorny she is here. it struck me, too, how similar this outlook could be to Laura's (match made in heaven!).
Thanks! Thorny is a great word and pretty much describes what I was going for. And you already corrupted me with your Laura/Tory heresies! (I still weep for Maya).
and yeah, maybe the metaphors are a little clunky, but the overall spirit and shape of them is right on. WRITE MORE.
Thanks again. Your criticism of the clunkiness is dead on. Even more so than I first realised when I posted it. I think I tend to write clunky and then...pare down from there. Either way, you're right, I'm better than that (and so modest, too! :p), and...I think I'd care more if I weren't so damn gleeful to have broken through my writer's block! *glee*
Thanks for taking the time to write feedback. It's very much appreciated.
I read this ages ago and was interrupted by something...
Date: 2007-10-06 01:53 pm (UTC)It's actually difficult for me to say anything 'useful' about this fic(let). I mean, it's *always* difficult for me to say something useful about fic, but in this case, more than usually so. I never remember much of the minutiae of BSG, certainly not between seasons, and never really had much of a handle on Tory, so the background necessary for really 'getting' a piece of fanfic isn't really there for me in this case.
I do like the Tory you describe here ('like' as in 'find interesting'). The piece gives a vivid impression of the state of her... mind? 'Soul' is probably more apt... anyway, yes, I can definitely feel that when I'm reading the fic.
I'm not sure about the imagery. 'Clunky' probably isn't the word I would choose if I wanted to criticise it. There's nothing wrong with most of the imagery (the bit about the space between magnets kind of confused me), it's just kind of... maybe piled on a bit? Just a tiny bit too much, in places.
Though I'm not even really sure of that; I'm not sure I would have noticed if someone in the thread hadn't remarked on it.
Overall, I like it, I really do. Just lacking some of the necessary background to get the full impact.