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tampered2008-01-23 11:24 pm
slightly-knurd.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2008-01-23 11:24 pm
Log; Complete
When; Evening of January 23rd
Rating; PG for possible language?
Characters; Prince Charming![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cocksmanship and Sam Vimes slightly_knurd
Summary; The unlikely couple of co-wardens get together to discuss policy, politics, and policing.
Log;
They'd done a fair enough job of converting one of the prison wings into the new police headquarters. Taken the bars off the windows, scrubbed the place down, laid down a thread-bare carpet in most of the rooms. True, the walls were still made of concrete and stone slabs and the place was drafty as hell and there wasn't but a scrap of finesse, but what would have been the point? These were coppers, through and through. Their place was on the streets, not in the office. And there'd be time for homely touches when there weren't any crimes to be solved.
The drab, offwhite blinds were drawn against the singular window in the small office, moonlight shining through the slits. It was nearly time for the night patrol.
Commander Samuel Vimes sat in his creaky, comfortable chair, leaning forward and picking at the scar on the inside of his wrist. His helmet was off, and resting near the corner of his desk, revealing his thinning black hair. Next to it lay two items; his copper badge (No. 177) and a silver, engraved cigar case from his wife. Those, and the clothes on his back, were the only things he'd carried with him when he arrived in the City four months ago.
Four months. Had it really been so long? Sam leaned back, staring hard at the inside of his forearm. How old would that make his son, if time had progressed the same there as here? He'd be two soon. Had he learned new words, learned to walk? Did he miss his 'da', as much as Vimes missed him? What had happened, when he hadn't shown up at six o'clock to read "Where's My Cow?", the night he found himself trapped in the Underground? Sam ached to think about it. He prayed, every day, for his son's forgiveness for each day his father had gone missing.
Scrawled on his wrist, in raised scarred flesh, was a dwarven symbol. The Summoning Dark, the worst of all the mine signs. In a world of darkness, this was the most feared of all entities. It called to mind the primal fear of when mankind had not yet become civilized and organized, when things both strange and unknown plagued the populace, stealing lives away into the night. And it was a cold, cruel reminder to Vimes to always, always, keep his sense of justice.
No matter what the cost to himself or his family.
Sam's eyes lifted at last to the door to his office. Prince Charming would be arriving soon.
Rating; PG for possible language?
Characters; Prince Charming
cocksmanship and Sam Vimes slightly_knurdSummary; The unlikely couple of co-wardens get together to discuss policy, politics, and policing.
Log;
They'd done a fair enough job of converting one of the prison wings into the new police headquarters. Taken the bars off the windows, scrubbed the place down, laid down a thread-bare carpet in most of the rooms. True, the walls were still made of concrete and stone slabs and the place was drafty as hell and there wasn't but a scrap of finesse, but what would have been the point? These were coppers, through and through. Their place was on the streets, not in the office. And there'd be time for homely touches when there weren't any crimes to be solved.
The drab, offwhite blinds were drawn against the singular window in the small office, moonlight shining through the slits. It was nearly time for the night patrol.
Commander Samuel Vimes sat in his creaky, comfortable chair, leaning forward and picking at the scar on the inside of his wrist. His helmet was off, and resting near the corner of his desk, revealing his thinning black hair. Next to it lay two items; his copper badge (No. 177) and a silver, engraved cigar case from his wife. Those, and the clothes on his back, were the only things he'd carried with him when he arrived in the City four months ago.
Four months. Had it really been so long? Sam leaned back, staring hard at the inside of his forearm. How old would that make his son, if time had progressed the same there as here? He'd be two soon. Had he learned new words, learned to walk? Did he miss his 'da', as much as Vimes missed him? What had happened, when he hadn't shown up at six o'clock to read "Where's My Cow?", the night he found himself trapped in the Underground? Sam ached to think about it. He prayed, every day, for his son's forgiveness for each day his father had gone missing.
Scrawled on his wrist, in raised scarred flesh, was a dwarven symbol. The Summoning Dark, the worst of all the mine signs. In a world of darkness, this was the most feared of all entities. It called to mind the primal fear of when mankind had not yet become civilized and organized, when things both strange and unknown plagued the populace, stealing lives away into the night. And it was a cold, cruel reminder to Vimes to always, always, keep his sense of justice.
No matter what the cost to himself or his family.
Sam's eyes lifted at last to the door to his office. Prince Charming would be arriving soon.