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B7 fic, The Beginning, Regency AU
disclaimer: not mine
fandom: Blake's 7, AU
characters: Cally of Auron, Travis
length: about 1000
rating: PG, violence
notes:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
redstarrobot wanted Regency AU Blake's 7. I'm too tired to make it more complicated, sorry.
The Beginning
by ALC Punk!
Lady Cally of Auron slipped stealthily along the alleyway, watching her footing, though she didn't disdain the piles and puddles of unnameable muck. There was no time to be so delicate, and her boots would suffice to keep her feet dry, anyway. Behind her, she could hear Sir Travis' annoyed words, spoken in light tones towards the cobbles and their contents. She didn't let his complaints dissuade her from her purpose, however.
A sound from ahead froze her in place, Travis abruptly silent. There. The sound came again, a slight scrape as though someone were shifting, relieving the strain of their feet.
One glance over her shoulder, and the matter was settled. Travis slipped back while Cally strode forward, her steps more careful this time. In her hand she held a short club, the smooth wood sliding easily between her fingers as she made her way into another puddle of darkness.
Light from a further lamp gave her the silhouette of one of Lady Servalan's guards, and she paused for a moment, the club held steady for an instant before she struck.
He folded with barely a sound, Cally taking his weight and lowering him almost-gently to the ground. It wasn't that she had a care for Lady Servalan's bullies, but a falling body made a good deal of noise that she wished to avoid, at least for the nonce.
"Hurry." Travis was suddenly there, again, mouth close to her ear, word barely vocalized.
Cally shot him an annoyed look before she knelt at the door, her lock-picks in hand. The lock was the work of a moment, and she turned the handle, leaning in and listening to the space beyond it. No guards inside. More fool Lady Servalan.
The Federation were going to rue the day they'd proved themselves so ruthless. Cally stole through the dark halls, searching for the doorway that would lead them down. Rumor and fact told her this was the best course of action when wanting to bring down a building. The explosives she had on her back would see the sky lit up with fire that night. Another blow struck for the rebellion.
Counting steps, and then pillars when they were in the dank confines of the cellar, Cally found the one which should be near the center, if not the true center. Setting her charges took more time, and Travis began fidgeting, muttering imprecations at her to get a move on.
Resolutely, she ignored him. Slipping up could cost them their lives, or prove this to be a mere nothing. Cally prefered an explosion to nothing, the sound of crackling masonry always sent her blood quickening. Especially if she had caused it.
"Movement," Travis suddenly said. He tossed her coat at her, then clattered back up the steps, his sword out.
Cally cursed and hurried a slight bit, finishing the last connection as the sound of the clash of steel echoed down to her. She shrugged back into her great-coat, catching up the bottom, and ran lightly up the stairs. As little noise as she made, there was still someone waiting for her at the top. She gave him a smile, caught him by the wrist and tripped him, sending him tumbling down the stairs.
"Five minutes," she told Sir Travis before she leapt into the fray, her club catching one of his opponents and sending him to the floor. She relieved him of his foil and turned to block the strike of the man behind her.
Within two minutes, they had left a swathe of fallen foes. Sir Travis was slowly working their way to the front, a plan that Cally didn't entirely approve of, but would accept for the moment. They turned a corner and Sir Travis cursed and knocked her back around it, barely ducking fast enough to escape the hail of bullets that cracked through the air.
Cally shoved him behind her, dropped to one knee and leaned around, her pistol taking out two before she had to reload. Travis fired while she worked fast, her fingers nimble and confident.
Four minutes. She ducked around again, firing accurately to remove another two from their path. Five more remained. "Travis."
The curt order made him curse, but he obeyed, firing wildly as he turned the corner and ran towards the blockade. Cally fired around him, then surged to her feet while the three left were scrambling for their swords.
It was over in less than ten seconds, but Cally could feel the thirty seconds that were left in her bones. "Move."
"The windows," he snapped, grabbing up one of the chairs from the hastily-erected barricade, and running ahead to smash it through the giant plate-glass picture windows at the front of the building. He leapt out, landing awkwardly and running straight across the square. Cally crashed through behind him and turned to the right, angling for the row of carriages waiting for their owners to call for them.
"Get down!" she shouted at the grooms and drivers, as she put the flimsy things between her and the bomb.
Not a moment too soon, it seemed. The air gave a curious thumping sound, and then the building creaked and groaned as the center collapsed. Looking around the edge of a carriage, Cally saw flames beginning to lick at the ceiling as the roof caved downwards, the upper storeys sliding into the lower.
There were cries and screams in the air, but she ignored them as Sir Travis rejoined her. Silently, they wrapped their coats around themselves and slipped through the gathering crowd, disappearing into the fog creeping up from the docks.
It had been a successful venture, but she wasn't going to rest on her laurels. Not yet.
Lady Servalan would consider this a mere setback, nothing major. Not until they had her at a knife's-point would she concede. And possibly not even then.
-f-
fandom: Blake's 7, AU
characters: Cally of Auron, Travis
length: about 1000
rating: PG, violence
notes:
redstarrobot wanted Regency AU Blake's 7. I'm too tired to make it more complicated, sorry. The Beginning
by ALC Punk!
Lady Cally of Auron slipped stealthily along the alleyway, watching her footing, though she didn't disdain the piles and puddles of unnameable muck. There was no time to be so delicate, and her boots would suffice to keep her feet dry, anyway. Behind her, she could hear Sir Travis' annoyed words, spoken in light tones towards the cobbles and their contents. She didn't let his complaints dissuade her from her purpose, however.
A sound from ahead froze her in place, Travis abruptly silent. There. The sound came again, a slight scrape as though someone were shifting, relieving the strain of their feet.
One glance over her shoulder, and the matter was settled. Travis slipped back while Cally strode forward, her steps more careful this time. In her hand she held a short club, the smooth wood sliding easily between her fingers as she made her way into another puddle of darkness.
Light from a further lamp gave her the silhouette of one of Lady Servalan's guards, and she paused for a moment, the club held steady for an instant before she struck.
He folded with barely a sound, Cally taking his weight and lowering him almost-gently to the ground. It wasn't that she had a care for Lady Servalan's bullies, but a falling body made a good deal of noise that she wished to avoid, at least for the nonce.
"Hurry." Travis was suddenly there, again, mouth close to her ear, word barely vocalized.
Cally shot him an annoyed look before she knelt at the door, her lock-picks in hand. The lock was the work of a moment, and she turned the handle, leaning in and listening to the space beyond it. No guards inside. More fool Lady Servalan.
The Federation were going to rue the day they'd proved themselves so ruthless. Cally stole through the dark halls, searching for the doorway that would lead them down. Rumor and fact told her this was the best course of action when wanting to bring down a building. The explosives she had on her back would see the sky lit up with fire that night. Another blow struck for the rebellion.
Counting steps, and then pillars when they were in the dank confines of the cellar, Cally found the one which should be near the center, if not the true center. Setting her charges took more time, and Travis began fidgeting, muttering imprecations at her to get a move on.
Resolutely, she ignored him. Slipping up could cost them their lives, or prove this to be a mere nothing. Cally prefered an explosion to nothing, the sound of crackling masonry always sent her blood quickening. Especially if she had caused it.
"Movement," Travis suddenly said. He tossed her coat at her, then clattered back up the steps, his sword out.
Cally cursed and hurried a slight bit, finishing the last connection as the sound of the clash of steel echoed down to her. She shrugged back into her great-coat, catching up the bottom, and ran lightly up the stairs. As little noise as she made, there was still someone waiting for her at the top. She gave him a smile, caught him by the wrist and tripped him, sending him tumbling down the stairs.
"Five minutes," she told Sir Travis before she leapt into the fray, her club catching one of his opponents and sending him to the floor. She relieved him of his foil and turned to block the strike of the man behind her.
Within two minutes, they had left a swathe of fallen foes. Sir Travis was slowly working their way to the front, a plan that Cally didn't entirely approve of, but would accept for the moment. They turned a corner and Sir Travis cursed and knocked her back around it, barely ducking fast enough to escape the hail of bullets that cracked through the air.
Cally shoved him behind her, dropped to one knee and leaned around, her pistol taking out two before she had to reload. Travis fired while she worked fast, her fingers nimble and confident.
Four minutes. She ducked around again, firing accurately to remove another two from their path. Five more remained. "Travis."
The curt order made him curse, but he obeyed, firing wildly as he turned the corner and ran towards the blockade. Cally fired around him, then surged to her feet while the three left were scrambling for their swords.
It was over in less than ten seconds, but Cally could feel the thirty seconds that were left in her bones. "Move."
"The windows," he snapped, grabbing up one of the chairs from the hastily-erected barricade, and running ahead to smash it through the giant plate-glass picture windows at the front of the building. He leapt out, landing awkwardly and running straight across the square. Cally crashed through behind him and turned to the right, angling for the row of carriages waiting for their owners to call for them.
"Get down!" she shouted at the grooms and drivers, as she put the flimsy things between her and the bomb.
Not a moment too soon, it seemed. The air gave a curious thumping sound, and then the building creaked and groaned as the center collapsed. Looking around the edge of a carriage, Cally saw flames beginning to lick at the ceiling as the roof caved downwards, the upper storeys sliding into the lower.
There were cries and screams in the air, but she ignored them as Sir Travis rejoined her. Silently, they wrapped their coats around themselves and slipped through the gathering crowd, disappearing into the fog creeping up from the docks.
It had been a successful venture, but she wasn't going to rest on her laurels. Not yet.
Lady Servalan would consider this a mere setback, nothing major. Not until they had her at a knife's-point would she concede. And possibly not even then.
-f-
Regency B7
This isn't the first Regency B7 AU concept I've encountered. A friend of mine once proposed a gender-switched Rosamund Blake was going to be a sort of Lady Hamilton figure. She may have been indulging my weakness for eponymous heroes who are outshone by their antiheroic comrades, but it sounded like great fun, if someone had lots of plot to spare.
Re: Regency B7
and, hah! That is awesome. =D
Thank you !
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