A drabble, One Piece-style
Mar. 19th, 2007 06:14 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dethoratsPrompt: Reflections
Rating: G
Pairing: Nami/Chopper/Robin
Word Count: 442
Note: Furry. If you don't like Chopper relationships, don't read.
Mother Nature had been, for all her initial cruelty, a touch kind as well. In that icy, snow-covered land, there were few secret pools or frozen ponds whose surface was clear enough for him to see. To see that which made him an outcast, a freak, unwanted. All he had ever seen was a half-glimpsed, hate-distorted image in the eyes of his people and he soon learned to stop looking. And so the first time he ever saw himself, it wasn’t on four legs at all but on two because there had been another twist in his life story.
A scarred and cracked scrap of polished silver was all there’d been but it had shown him a small creature with big eyes, a blue nose, and no similarity to another living thing. He’d hated himself, loathing even stronger because now he could NEVER go back, and he’d been tempted to smash the poor excuse for a mirror. But the doctor was kind where his family had been unforgiving and eventually he decided the pink hat at least made him look a little bigger, a little more respectable.
Doctorine, when he had been brought lower than ever before, showed him a new path and his old faces. She used him, on four legs and on two, and taught him, and shaped him with a rough sort of affection into something else entirely. Still, it wasn’t until the arrival of a band of pirates that he even thought to be thankful for his curse, to view it as a gift. It was even later, after many trials and tribulations, before he could stand in front of a real mirror and take a good long look at the form that bore only a passing resemblance to his birthed shape.
The nose of course, and the hair. That never changed. His nose would be blue until the day he died but that was, finally, okay. Tall, so tall when he was this way, and two heads joined him in the mirror; a dark one leaning against his shoulder and a fiery one ducking beneath his arm. The eyes, they said, smiling at one another and at him, at the reflection of the three of them together. Soft and gentle and always full of every emotion, they would give him away no matter what form he wore. And as he looked, really looked and tried to get past the surface, the man that he could and had become saw that it was true. They read his gratitude easily and, with warm laughter and ready hands, led him back among the rest of his nakama where he belonged.
Rating: G
Pairing: Nami/Chopper/Robin
Word Count: 442
Note: Furry. If you don't like Chopper relationships, don't read.
Mother Nature had been, for all her initial cruelty, a touch kind as well. In that icy, snow-covered land, there were few secret pools or frozen ponds whose surface was clear enough for him to see. To see that which made him an outcast, a freak, unwanted. All he had ever seen was a half-glimpsed, hate-distorted image in the eyes of his people and he soon learned to stop looking. And so the first time he ever saw himself, it wasn’t on four legs at all but on two because there had been another twist in his life story.
A scarred and cracked scrap of polished silver was all there’d been but it had shown him a small creature with big eyes, a blue nose, and no similarity to another living thing. He’d hated himself, loathing even stronger because now he could NEVER go back, and he’d been tempted to smash the poor excuse for a mirror. But the doctor was kind where his family had been unforgiving and eventually he decided the pink hat at least made him look a little bigger, a little more respectable.
Doctorine, when he had been brought lower than ever before, showed him a new path and his old faces. She used him, on four legs and on two, and taught him, and shaped him with a rough sort of affection into something else entirely. Still, it wasn’t until the arrival of a band of pirates that he even thought to be thankful for his curse, to view it as a gift. It was even later, after many trials and tribulations, before he could stand in front of a real mirror and take a good long look at the form that bore only a passing resemblance to his birthed shape.
The nose of course, and the hair. That never changed. His nose would be blue until the day he died but that was, finally, okay. Tall, so tall when he was this way, and two heads joined him in the mirror; a dark one leaning against his shoulder and a fiery one ducking beneath his arm. The eyes, they said, smiling at one another and at him, at the reflection of the three of them together. Soft and gentle and always full of every emotion, they would give him away no matter what form he wore. And as he looked, really looked and tried to get past the surface, the man that he could and had become saw that it was true. They read his gratitude easily and, with warm laughter and ready hands, led him back among the rest of his nakama where he belonged.
