[identity profile] alexis-laforge.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] big_damn_quests
Title: Old dogs, little children and watermelon wine
Author: alexis_laforge
Character: Jubal Early
Rating: PGish
Spoilers: Up through Objects in Space
Challenge: Round 8, 1: Do you imagine yourself ever being able to retire? Describe what your ideal retirement would look like.
Disclaimer: All this cool stuff is Joss Whedon's. Story is for Plums and RCG

What a question, what a question. Can I imagine myself retired? Worn out? Well... I can imagine many things. Sometimes I'm a great cat, stalking through the tall grass, dragging prey down, blood spraying this and that way. Sometimes I'm a python, slick green coils above unknowing men and women, waiting to drop on them and squeeze until they lose their air, just a deadly piece of canopy and the dragon of the Revelation, all at once. Sometimes I'm a girl named Alice, but not often. Could you see the dragon, the big cat, settled down, with a wife and three brats? Could you see me in some rest home, doing arts and crafts, waiting on the kids that stuck my dried up old ass in there?

I put people IN jail. I don't go TO jail.

Second most annoying bounty that I ever hunted, but the wisest, oh the wisest, was a little man that loved fire. Not just it's potential for destruction, you see, though he was an arsonist of great skill. This maladaptive midget, no, he loved the dance of flame and how it rippled across surfaces in red waves. He told me it was kisses from the sweetest mouth he could ever even think of, even sweeter than his mama's. In the flames we see the truth, he said, before initiating self-immolative manuevers. In the flames he saw himself, and to the flames he did return. In the flames I see myself and there shall I die, too. That's how I knew I wasn't gonna die when Mal Reynolds hurled me into the Black. I almost did but dying in the ice would be too much like laying in that rest home, waiting on my time to meet the Reaper. And the next time I meet Mal Reynolds? One of us will die in flames, and it will be inelegant but oh so eloquent in the language of brutality which only the wild ones, the barbarians like us, speak.

One of us will die in flames, and if I don't that time? Then another time. Retirement is for other men, not me.
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