storypaint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storypaint) wrote2009-09-15 09:16 am
storypaint) wrote2009-09-15 09:16 am
Entry tags:
Bone-Dry (Scar gen)
Title: Bone-Dry
Fandom: The Lion King
Length: 227 words
Prompt:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
comment_fic: The Lion King, Scar/Simba, bones
Pairing: Scar gen
Other: PG for death/bloody imagery
Excerpt: Bones. Everywhere he looked, bones. Scar skulked around the elephant graveyard as though it were his kingdom. It was, and a poor kingdom to boot.
Bones. Everywhere he looked, bones. Scar skulked around the elephant graveyard as though it were his kingdom. It was, and a poor kingdom to boot. That was all his brother had afforded him: an ugly scar and the dry ivory dead.
Mufasa had a real kingdom, a mate, a child. Scar would own all of these things himself. He would. The boy would be his son or another small set of bones among many. He knew he was a terrible uncle. He would be a perfect father, he felt.
There was little to gnaw on in the elephant graveyard, splintery bones and smoldering hatred. Scar had plenty of both to chew on. He kept coming back to the boy. The boy was key here. Break him young and Simba would be his forever. Break him or kill him. He wanted to taste lion blood again. Would he taste like Mufasa, Scar wondered?
(Mufasa and that scar. He'd convinced his brother it was an accident but the proof showed on his face for all to suspect. It was only that bleeding heart that the king had that had kept him from banishment.
Mufasa would soon regret that, oh yes.)
He could hear the stupid laughter of the hyenas in the distance. Scar smiled, showing too many teeth. He was almost ready.
No one would be prepared for this.
Fandom: The Lion King
Length: 227 words
Prompt:
comment_fic: The Lion King, Scar/Simba, bonesPairing: Scar gen
Other: PG for death/bloody imagery
Excerpt: Bones. Everywhere he looked, bones. Scar skulked around the elephant graveyard as though it were his kingdom. It was, and a poor kingdom to boot.
Bones. Everywhere he looked, bones. Scar skulked around the elephant graveyard as though it were his kingdom. It was, and a poor kingdom to boot. That was all his brother had afforded him: an ugly scar and the dry ivory dead.
Mufasa had a real kingdom, a mate, a child. Scar would own all of these things himself. He would. The boy would be his son or another small set of bones among many. He knew he was a terrible uncle. He would be a perfect father, he felt.
There was little to gnaw on in the elephant graveyard, splintery bones and smoldering hatred. Scar had plenty of both to chew on. He kept coming back to the boy. The boy was key here. Break him young and Simba would be his forever. Break him or kill him. He wanted to taste lion blood again. Would he taste like Mufasa, Scar wondered?
(Mufasa and that scar. He'd convinced his brother it was an accident but the proof showed on his face for all to suspect. It was only that bleeding heart that the king had that had kept him from banishment.
Mufasa would soon regret that, oh yes.)
He could hear the stupid laughter of the hyenas in the distance. Scar smiled, showing too many teeth. He was almost ready.
No one would be prepared for this.