Model citizen, zero discipline (gypsyboots) wrote in champion_slash,
Model citizen, zero discipline

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*poke poke*

I shall now attempt to resuscitate this place with some Corum/Elric fluff.

Title: Traveler In Time
Novels: Post-Vanishing Tower
Pairing: Corum/Elric
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Elric gets moody and summons Corum.
Note: Set any given time after the end of Corum's The King of the Swords. But what is Time, really? ;)
Disclaimer: The characters mentioned do not belong to me, I'm just borrowing them for some fun, with hopes that Mr. Moorcock won't mind.

Corum appeared sprawling on the floor, his scarlet robe blending with the wooden floor over which a fire cast its reddish light.

“Elric,” he said, astonished, looking up at the exhausted albino who was slumped against the bed a few paces away.

Elric opened his bloodless lips to speak, but found himself unable to and so shook his head with some effort, sliding down further until he was almost lying on the floor. He fought to keep his strange, crimson eyes open.

“How—why have you summoned me? Are you injured?” Corum said, shuffling closer to Elric to inspect his body for any visible wounds.

“No,” came Elric’s feeble moan. “Tired… summoning was—strenuous.”

“But why?” Corum said, then shook his head and helped Elric onto the bed. He wasn’t expecting an answer and nor did he want one at this moment, for it was clear that it pained his old companion to speak, but Corum couldn’t contain his curiosity. The fact that Elric had summoned him meant that something was terribly wrong in his world; something so wrong that he would require another champion to aid him. “Are you in danger?”

“Stop blabbering,” Elric smiled up at him weakly. “Bring me my drugs—in the corner.”

The room was small and barely furnished. An inn, Corum thought. The fire was dying, and Corum could barely make out the bag of Elric’s supplies which lay in the far corner. He rummaged through it until he found a pouch which contained some herbs, and brought it to Elric. For a few minutes, he watched silently as the albino, the Prince of Ruins as some called him, chewed on the herbs and began to breathe normally again, regaining some of his strength. Elric’s eyelids opened wider now, and he was able to prop himself up on his pillow and look upon the disfigured yet still beautiful face of Corum, the Prince in the Scarlet Robe. Corum felt self-conscious under the scrutiny, and in what had become a nervous habit, ran his fingers over his embroidered eye patch.

“How fare thee, Prince Corum?” said Elric. “I see you have acquired a new patch, and a new hand.”

“Aye,” said Corum. “Not as useful as the Hand of Kwll and the Eye of Rhynn, but certainly less troublesome. And how fare I? Do you truly need to ask? How fare you, Elric?”

Elric chuckled.

“Much the same as you, I think. No peace. No rest,” he sighed. “It has been a long time, Corum.”

“Time? I thought the last time we saw one another we established that there is no such thing,” said Corum.

“Yet there is that word again,” Elric smiled grimly, and sat up so that his face was mere inches away from Corum’s. “In the grand scheme of things, I suppose that that is true. However, as far as the life of one man is concerned, that cannot be said. It has been a long time. It has been many months since I last saw you. Many, many nights since I last felt complete.”

Corum swallowed. He could smell the sweet, unfamiliar scent of the herbs which were still in Elric’s mouth. “And when was the last time you felt complete?”

“Ask yourself, Champion. I suspect your answer is the same as mine, is it not?”

Corum’s right hand, the one which was of flesh, twitched and moved seemingly on its own accord to rest on Elric’s thigh.

“It is,” Corum said. “But I fear that you made a mistake in summoning me, Elric. Two of our kind cannot exist in the same plane. You know this. The entire fabric of the Multiverse could be ruptured because of my presence here.”

A quiet, gloomy laugh came from Elric’s throat.

“Is it not ruptured enough already? Consider the state of my world. Look at the state of yours. What difference would it make, one more disruption?” He traced the outline of Corum’s jaw with his long, pale fingers. “I think I’ve understood why Fate keeps us apart, Corum.”

Corum leaned into Elric’s touch. Their hearts beat in tune, and the sound was almost deafening. “Because without one another, we are incomplete,” Corum said. “And thus, we fight for the Gods, hoping that somehow that will fill the void. If we were together, Elric, if we were complete—would we still fight for Fate? I think not.”

“Nor I,” smiled Elric. “And Fate needs me more than I need Her. Let Her do Her worst.”

And the two champions leaned into a kiss, and while the Gods warred amongst themselves and while their worlds destroyed themselves, they lay in each other’s arms and forgot their wretched destinies, and perhaps for that one night there was no such thing as Time.
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