Silvermoon Sentinel

February 5, 2011

Annnnd finally finished. Happy birfday bestie. <3

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clu quorra tron tron: Tron: Legacy

February 25, 2011

Memories

warmup done to get myself art-y after andtheycallmeprideful so helpfully reminded me of the song.

I love Q and Flynn together, and listening to this again made me think of the scene where she was telling him that he didn’t have to go after Sam. She seemed so desperate to protect him as much as he was to protect her. And really, you spend that many years alone with someone, there’s just— so much love in it. It’s really, really moving to me.

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flynn kevin flynn quorra tron avaliart

February 27, 2011

victims of mythology, pt 3

thornmallow:

He wanted a horrified gasp, tensed muscles, miserable whimpers, a mouth abject with sorrow. He wanted her to flinch and shudder, to pull her body against his and feel the movement of her despair. And then he wanted her to give in.

Quorra was aware of that, now. In the initial stages of the invasion, she fought Clu whenever and however possible—she agitated him with taunts, she kicked and spat him and his guards, and she would attempt escape almost daily.

He loved this. One day she had realized it; she had seen his satisfaction in punishing her, correcting her. After the dominance was re-asserted, physically or verbally, there were the brief, unusual mercies. Running his fingers through her hair, massaging her back. Occasionally Clu brought her gifts: a diamond bracelet, each gem utterly flawless. Perfectly shaped roses that left their perfume lingering for a week after they wilted. And, once, a book—an old one, something called an illuminated manuscript, created in the Users’ early days. Its intricate illustrations, inlaid with gold and silver leaf, were so bright and shining that Quorra was surprised when the pages weren’t hot to the touch.

Clu allowed her to enjoy these treasures as a way, she suspected, of breaking down her resistance. He promised much more if she yielded willingly, if she would submit to his plans for her and the system they now occupied. If she would betray Kevin and Sam Flynn.

The car brought them back to Encom Tower, which now served as a central base of power for Clu’s regime. He kept Quorra there, in his rooms on the top floors, and stayed there himself when he wasn’t surveying a potential or captured territory from his ship.

Quorra hadn’t spoken aloud, but her hands shook all the way to the tower’s front doors. For Clu, that was more than enough.

—

The table was set with all manner of earthly delights: veal cutlets rubbed with spices and crowned with mushrooms, sautéed and glistening; a basket of fresh bread, each steaming roll precisely in half and drizzled with butter. There were platters of artfully arranged fruit: plump grapes, ripe strawberries glittering with sugar, pomegranate sections filled with ruby-red seeds.

Quorra stared at the plate in front of her, which was piled with herb-encrusted potatoes, firm spears of asparagus, and a strip of sirloin that was coated with a dark, richly savory sauce. Beside her, a chocolate cheesecake beckoned from under a glass dome; it was decorated liberally with curls of chocolate ganache and comprised of two silken layers, one dark, one milk.

Quorra gripped her knife with such intensity that the handle became slick with sweat. The scent of this food—and she hadn’t even processed the soft, pale wheels of champagne cheese or the thickly sliced, lightly browned rashers of bacon—was overwhelming; it was a heady mix of aromatic spices, both salt and sweet, bursting with flavor and heat.

“Is this not to your liking?” Clu said. He sat across from her, in a gold high-backed chair padded with black leather; a little throne. “You worked so hard today. I thought you might appreciate something to eat.”

This was not usual. Quorra was terrified.

Like all of their kind, she didn’t strictly require food to stay alive, and she did not often receive it. The energy flows were so strong in central Los Angeles that she didn’t need to drink it, either, though of course she could not decline when Clu offered one, lest she suffer the consequences. She could do hardly anything in his company without consequences, and that was why she knew not to trust the food.

Clu steepled his hands and watched her, smirking, his eyes reflecting steel and ice.

The pomegranate seeds glinted on their silver platter. The room had black walls run through with goldenrod tubing, and the otherworldly light they gave off was helped only by two crystal candelabras in the center of the table.

Having abandoned Pandora and her hope, Quorra looked at the seeds and found another myth surfacing in her memory.

The king of the underworld spied a girl picking flowers: he pulled her onto his chariot and took her from the sunny grove where she sat, knotting the blossoms into a garland. The earth split open beneath his horses’ hooves and they descended to the dark, airless kingdom, to the land of the dead.

Once there, the king did not allow the girl to leave. No amount of intercession from her family swayed him, and when he was finally forced into a compromise, he still triumphed: the girl had eaten during her stay; she had tasted a pomegranate’s flesh and swallowed its seeds. Because of this, the king kept her for most of each year anyway.

Her name was Persephone, and she became known as the Iron Queen, though she was the daughter of a radiant summer goddess.

The story never discussed the girl’s thoughts on her situation; it seemed that she had little choice but to accept the circumstances. Quorra noticed that this was a theme in the book of myths.

She lifted the knife. Its serrated edge hovered over the seasoned meat, which smelled so warm and good, which she knew from a glance would cut easily, would melt tenderly on her tongue.

She looked up at Clu, and then she threw the knife.

He caught it nimbly. Lifting the napkin from his lap, he wiped a stray bit of sauce from the knife’s edge. He folded the napkin and set it back on the table, then laid down the knife.

“Oh, Q,” he said softly. “Poor decision.”

In one swift, violently abrupt motion, he pushed back from the chair and lunged for her.

—

OK I lied. NEXT ONE IS fighting.

also I hate this

ugh

/goes to commit seppuku

Pt 1

Pt 2

AWKJGHDAJWYLFDWDWLJUYF OMU AMAZING. I am torn between this and part 2, but I love the food descriptions and the way the mood was so tense and…and…AND BACON. <333333

hnnngh so happy. C:

And now back to my work, but ilu so hard bb.

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tron quorra au clu Tron: Legacy

Via lactose- and bullshit-intolerant