jedibuttercup (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
jedibuttercup) wrote2019-08-20 01:17 pm
jedibuttercup) wrote2019-08-20 01:17 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: In Due Time (Buffy/Riddick; T)
Buffy/Riddick; B:tVS/TCoR; 600 words. Followup to Just The Way He Likes It. For ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
twistedshorts.
Even before he'd found her, he'd planned to shatter their soulless army on its own anvil. Finding Buffy-- well, it had just sped things up.
Title: In Due Time
Author: Jedi Buttercup
Disclaimer: The words are mine; the worlds are not.
Rating: T/PG-13
Spoilers: Very post-series for B:tVS; Canon divergence for The Chronicles of Riddick (2004)
Notes: Not part of my Primitive Side series. Inspired by/a sequel to Just The Way He Likes It (which diverges after TCoR rather than before it).
Summary: Even before he'd found her, he'd planned to shatter their soulless army on its own anvil. Finding Buffy-- well, it had just sped things up.
Of course they were gonna try to kill him. Death was what they did for a living, and Riddick had been putting a serious crimp in their style. He might've taken out the last Lord Marshal-- keeping what they killed was more just than a hobby for Necromongers, it was their creed-- but he was also a Misbeliever. And the only planets he'd led them to since donning the Lord Marshal's armor were triple max slams. That had left enough wiggle room for those with the will to act, to piously defy him.
He would have said those that had the balls-- but some of their fiercest didn't have any, and for most of the others, the fact that his actually still worked was part of the problem.
Which-- like everything else about the fleet he'd inherited from his people's killer-- made no fucking sense. If worship mattered to whatever divinity ruled their Underverse, wouldn't it want more people available to give it, not fewer? Stronger converts? Dedicated acolytes, who'd known no other god? Like everything else about them, it all boiled down to domination in the moment, not what came after.
Now, Riddick enjoyed a little power play as much as the next guy. But trying to put the entire universe on its knees? Their 'Faith' made a lot more sense as one man's psycho-fuck fantasy spun out of control. Even before he'd found her, adrift on an ancient sleeper ship not far from the Cazar system, he'd planned to rub their noses in it, expose the rotten heart of their so-called philosophy for what it was. Collect a few allies, then drag them to their supposed Threshold, shatter their soulless army on its anvil. Finding Buffy-- well, it had just sped things up.
Whatever set Furyans like Riddick apart, whatever Zhylaw's followers had tried to torture themselves into, she was all of both and more: fulminous, incandescent, glorious. The very antithesis of what Necromongers were, blazingly full of life. What they hated in Riddick, they immediately hated in her tenfold. And yet--
Riddick had asked her, once, what she was; she was deadlier and more passionate than anyone else he'd ever met. Destruction, she'd replied, the death of worlds in her distant gaze; absolute, alone. Then her eyes had met his again, wells so deep he couldn't see the bottom.
He knew that loneliness, that rage. He hadn't asked again. He'd asked another question, instead.
Buffy had given him a run for his money-- and a few fresh scars. But the minute she'd realized he was fighting for the joy of it, not to kill her, she'd willingly followed him back to the Necropolis; and as soon as she'd realized what he was doing there, he'd had an ally. Then, more.
Death might be what Necromongers did for a living. But for Buffy, the woman they'd begun calling Dame Riddick--
"You ready to do this?" he murmured, palming a weapon as he took a half-step down from the throne. Underverse was here, one way or another; he'd given them the choice of the easy way or the hard way, and was not at all surprised by how many had chosen hard.
She stepped forward to stand at his side, casually claiming an energy pike from the Commander that moved to block her. "Does a Necromonger speak in capital letters?" she replied nonsensically, giving Riddick a bright, knife's edge smile; then she moved, leaving him to follow in her wake.
--Death was her gift.
The two of them versus the Legion Vast? Yeah, he'd call that a fair fight.
(x-posted on twistedshorts and on AO3)
twistedshorts.Even before he'd found her, he'd planned to shatter their soulless army on its own anvil. Finding Buffy-- well, it had just sped things up.
Title: In Due Time
Author: Jedi Buttercup
Disclaimer: The words are mine; the worlds are not.
Rating: T/PG-13
Spoilers: Very post-series for B:tVS; Canon divergence for The Chronicles of Riddick (2004)
Notes: Not part of my Primitive Side series. Inspired by/a sequel to Just The Way He Likes It (which diverges after TCoR rather than before it).
Summary: Even before he'd found her, he'd planned to shatter their soulless army on its own anvil. Finding Buffy-- well, it had just sped things up.
Of course they were gonna try to kill him. Death was what they did for a living, and Riddick had been putting a serious crimp in their style. He might've taken out the last Lord Marshal-- keeping what they killed was more just than a hobby for Necromongers, it was their creed-- but he was also a Misbeliever. And the only planets he'd led them to since donning the Lord Marshal's armor were triple max slams. That had left enough wiggle room for those with the will to act, to piously defy him.
He would have said those that had the balls-- but some of their fiercest didn't have any, and for most of the others, the fact that his actually still worked was part of the problem.
Which-- like everything else about the fleet he'd inherited from his people's killer-- made no fucking sense. If worship mattered to whatever divinity ruled their Underverse, wouldn't it want more people available to give it, not fewer? Stronger converts? Dedicated acolytes, who'd known no other god? Like everything else about them, it all boiled down to domination in the moment, not what came after.
Now, Riddick enjoyed a little power play as much as the next guy. But trying to put the entire universe on its knees? Their 'Faith' made a lot more sense as one man's psycho-fuck fantasy spun out of control. Even before he'd found her, adrift on an ancient sleeper ship not far from the Cazar system, he'd planned to rub their noses in it, expose the rotten heart of their so-called philosophy for what it was. Collect a few allies, then drag them to their supposed Threshold, shatter their soulless army on its anvil. Finding Buffy-- well, it had just sped things up.
Whatever set Furyans like Riddick apart, whatever Zhylaw's followers had tried to torture themselves into, she was all of both and more: fulminous, incandescent, glorious. The very antithesis of what Necromongers were, blazingly full of life. What they hated in Riddick, they immediately hated in her tenfold. And yet--
Riddick had asked her, once, what she was; she was deadlier and more passionate than anyone else he'd ever met. Destruction, she'd replied, the death of worlds in her distant gaze; absolute, alone. Then her eyes had met his again, wells so deep he couldn't see the bottom.
He knew that loneliness, that rage. He hadn't asked again. He'd asked another question, instead.
Buffy had given him a run for his money-- and a few fresh scars. But the minute she'd realized he was fighting for the joy of it, not to kill her, she'd willingly followed him back to the Necropolis; and as soon as she'd realized what he was doing there, he'd had an ally. Then, more.
Death might be what Necromongers did for a living. But for Buffy, the woman they'd begun calling Dame Riddick--
"You ready to do this?" he murmured, palming a weapon as he took a half-step down from the throne. Underverse was here, one way or another; he'd given them the choice of the easy way or the hard way, and was not at all surprised by how many had chosen hard.
She stepped forward to stand at his side, casually claiming an energy pike from the Commander that moved to block her. "Does a Necromonger speak in capital letters?" she replied nonsensically, giving Riddick a bright, knife's edge smile; then she moved, leaving him to follow in her wake.
--Death was her gift.
The two of them versus the Legion Vast? Yeah, he'd call that a fair fight.
(x-posted on twistedshorts and on AO3)