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.fic: In the Halls of the Ancients: Author's Preface (John/Rodney) R
I wasn't intending to spam today (one more thing tonight and then that's it, I swear), but this is something very ridiculous I doodled for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cesperanza, a scrap from the sensationalist memoir In the Halls of the Ancients, as described here.
The angel of history is a voyeur and likes unauthorized biographies.
.In the Halls of the Ancients: Author's Preface
Iram Nos once wrote, "You who write, seek the truth in all things." And when I found John Sheppard and Rodney McKay in a clinch in a far-flung corner of Atlantis, I knew I had found it, and so much more.
Now, it isn't my intention in these pages to be prurient or to cater to those who are titillated by descriptions of such encounters. And I certainly have no intention of being labeled a voyeur by the more repressed societies of the galaxy. Indeed, as I stood there (hidden by a convenient angle in the corridor), watching as our galaxy's most brilliant, legendary scientist pushed the lord of Atlantis up against the wall and licked at and devoured his mouth and insinuated one strong thigh between his, all I could think of was two reports I had heard not long before leaving for Atlantis. One, from an Atani warrior, said that Lord Sheppard's ascendancy heralded the beginning of a thousand-year golden age; another, from a Karth trader, said that the return of the Lanteans and the end of the Wraith had been predicted in an apocalypse that linked these events with the destruction of the galaxy and its rebirth from the ashes.
Admittedly, these thoughts did not quite match up with the soft, wet, desperate sounds I could hear quite clearly from my hiding place, or the pale curve of the top of Lord McKay's posterior as Lord Sheppard very deviously undid his belt and worked his pants down. I found myself increasingly uncomfortable, thinking of how the Atani and the Karth had been equally convinced of the galaxy's salvation and destruction, and of how Lord McKay was licking and biting at Lord Sheppard's neck, very likely hard enough to leave a mark, if not several. How could I reconcile such profoundly differing viewpoints, I wondered, and what was it that Lord McKay did that made Lord Sheppard moan, deep and low, and twist his hips up into his hand?
I sensed that these would not be easy questions to answer, if not outright impossible. You don't interfere in the affairs of Ancestors, after all, and I had heard it said around the city (by some of the Lanteans no less, and they were regarded with rather a lot of awe and people tended to listen to what they said) that you especially don't interfere in the affairs of Rodney McKay. Well, I thought, I had no small native knowledge of the sciences, my homeworld being relatively advanced compared to many others, and I would not have to interfere as such--merely observe. And in terms of beginning, well, there was no time like the present! I didn't have my writing journal or any recorders with me at the time, so I concentrated extremely hard on Lord McKay falling to his knees and how the sound he made was perhaps more pained than aroused, although he did not seem at all deterred from his intended action. The hands that had destroyed solar systems had some difficulty dealing with buttons and fastenings, but it is also said that with Rodney McKay victory is only a matter of time, and so in short order... Well. I said above I would not seek to gratify prurient interests, including my own, so I will leave the rest unsaid.
(For the conclusion of this scene I direct you to Chapter Ten, "Divine Love or Lanteans 'Doing the Dirty'?". But, with an author's pride, I ask you to read the intervening material! I promise it's worth it.)
A last note: Who I am is not important, nor is the planet of my birth. I came to Atlantis along with many thousands of others about two years after the Wars, desiring, like them, to see the fabled city with my own eyes. Unlike the many thousands, I wanted to write about what I saw in something other than cheap postcards home. For a while, though, I didn't see much to record in my journal (there is only so much one could say, or would want to say, about Athosian farming practices and the social structure of the trading districts). It wasn't until that fateful encounter in the corridor, and a favorable shift in my own fortunes, that I was able to embark on the book you hold in your hands today and to tell you the true experiences of one privileged enough to walk in the halls of the Ancients.
.eta: Excerpt from Chapter 10. Threesome?
cesperanza, a scrap from the sensationalist memoir In the Halls of the Ancients, as described here.The angel of history is a voyeur and likes unauthorized biographies.
.In the Halls of the Ancients: Author's Preface
Iram Nos once wrote, "You who write, seek the truth in all things." And when I found John Sheppard and Rodney McKay in a clinch in a far-flung corner of Atlantis, I knew I had found it, and so much more.
Now, it isn't my intention in these pages to be prurient or to cater to those who are titillated by descriptions of such encounters. And I certainly have no intention of being labeled a voyeur by the more repressed societies of the galaxy. Indeed, as I stood there (hidden by a convenient angle in the corridor), watching as our galaxy's most brilliant, legendary scientist pushed the lord of Atlantis up against the wall and licked at and devoured his mouth and insinuated one strong thigh between his, all I could think of was two reports I had heard not long before leaving for Atlantis. One, from an Atani warrior, said that Lord Sheppard's ascendancy heralded the beginning of a thousand-year golden age; another, from a Karth trader, said that the return of the Lanteans and the end of the Wraith had been predicted in an apocalypse that linked these events with the destruction of the galaxy and its rebirth from the ashes.
Admittedly, these thoughts did not quite match up with the soft, wet, desperate sounds I could hear quite clearly from my hiding place, or the pale curve of the top of Lord McKay's posterior as Lord Sheppard very deviously undid his belt and worked his pants down. I found myself increasingly uncomfortable, thinking of how the Atani and the Karth had been equally convinced of the galaxy's salvation and destruction, and of how Lord McKay was licking and biting at Lord Sheppard's neck, very likely hard enough to leave a mark, if not several. How could I reconcile such profoundly differing viewpoints, I wondered, and what was it that Lord McKay did that made Lord Sheppard moan, deep and low, and twist his hips up into his hand?
I sensed that these would not be easy questions to answer, if not outright impossible. You don't interfere in the affairs of Ancestors, after all, and I had heard it said around the city (by some of the Lanteans no less, and they were regarded with rather a lot of awe and people tended to listen to what they said) that you especially don't interfere in the affairs of Rodney McKay. Well, I thought, I had no small native knowledge of the sciences, my homeworld being relatively advanced compared to many others, and I would not have to interfere as such--merely observe. And in terms of beginning, well, there was no time like the present! I didn't have my writing journal or any recorders with me at the time, so I concentrated extremely hard on Lord McKay falling to his knees and how the sound he made was perhaps more pained than aroused, although he did not seem at all deterred from his intended action. The hands that had destroyed solar systems had some difficulty dealing with buttons and fastenings, but it is also said that with Rodney McKay victory is only a matter of time, and so in short order... Well. I said above I would not seek to gratify prurient interests, including my own, so I will leave the rest unsaid.
(For the conclusion of this scene I direct you to Chapter Ten, "Divine Love or Lanteans 'Doing the Dirty'?". But, with an author's pride, I ask you to read the intervening material! I promise it's worth it.)
A last note: Who I am is not important, nor is the planet of my birth. I came to Atlantis along with many thousands of others about two years after the Wars, desiring, like them, to see the fabled city with my own eyes. Unlike the many thousands, I wanted to write about what I saw in something other than cheap postcards home. For a while, though, I didn't see much to record in my journal (there is only so much one could say, or would want to say, about Athosian farming practices and the social structure of the trading districts). It wasn't until that fateful encounter in the corridor, and a favorable shift in my own fortunes, that I was able to embark on the book you hold in your hands today and to tell you the true experiences of one privileged enough to walk in the halls of the Ancients.
.eta: Excerpt from Chapter 10. Threesome?
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As for more, I don't think there will be... This was seriously just something I scribbled for Ces, in order to avoid having to do actual work :D But I'm sure if there was more, it would be more or less just like this :D
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Oh man.
While I myself was never permitted access to the family chambers, I am told by a source who does not wish to be identified, lest the wrath of Ronon Dex come upon him, that he heard voices coming from the Lady Emmagan's room, voices that left no doubt as to the activities in which their owners were engaging. He made out three distinct voices, one belonging to the Lady Emmagan and the other two prove to belong to the Lords McKay and Sheppard, whom my source saw exiting the chambers a couple hours later.
Now, of course this is speculation of the wildest, most indecent sort, the speculation in which no responsible, truth-seeking writer (such as myself) would indulge. But I invite you to consider how it would look, Teyla Emmagan's body shining brightly with sweat, gilded by light and shadowed by Sheppard when he bends to kiss her, and Rodney McKay, he of the eloquent tongue, reduced to silence, pale where he lies between her legs.
It is, as I have said, speculation--but I believe it is worth considering, nonetheless.
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Hi, I love you.
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I seriously love Anonymous' wit and sharp-stylus prose.
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