badly_knitted (badly_knitted) wrote,
badly_knitted
badly_knitted

Ficlet: Mistaken Identity

Title: Mistaken Identity
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto, Jack, OCs.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: While exploring planets out on the galactic rim, Ianto and Jack find themselves in a peculiar situation.
Word Count: 500
Written For: Prompt 148: Aftertaste at anythingdrabble.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Set in my ‘Ghost of a Chance’ ‘Verse.




Ianto sipped slowly from the steaming bowl he held cupped between his hands, relishing the way the warmth of it chased the chill from his fingers. This wasn’t coffee; his usual beverage of choice was unknown on this world far out on the galactic rim, but it was pleasant enough and at least it was both hot and energising, two things he was extremely grateful for.


The flavour was strong, almost heady, its slight bitterness reminiscent of good coffee, and it had a curious aftertaste, a little like spiced oranges but somehow less fruity and more… nutty perhaps? Well, maybe that was apt. This whole situation was nutty.


The natives called the drink darrich, and everyone drank it since it was the only hot beverage available aside from a kind of alcoholic punch known as yelta, which was made from the fermented sap of a certain tree species and looked a little too much like blood for Ianto’s tastes. Well, ‘tree’ wasn’t quite accurate, it was more a woody, branching cactus than anything, but that was neither here nor there.


Jack and Ianto had arrived here while scouting out on the rim, looking for useful natural resources as well as planets suitable for colonisation. This one obviously wasn’t available to be exploited in any way since it was already inhabited. Admittedly the people were a fairly primitive race, living in thatched huts and pursuing a peaceful agrarian lifestyle, but the Shadow Proclamation’s rules were very clear; if a planet was home to an existing or evolving sentient race, no matter how uncivilised they might be, they must be allowed to evolve as nature intended. The ruling didn’t completely ban trade with such races, but interfering with evolution in any way was frowned on.


There’d been no intention on either Jack or Ianto’s part to interfere in any way, but they hadn’t realised there were people here until after they set their shuttlecraft down to carry out a survey and collect samples of anything that might be of interest. By the time they discovered the planet was already spoken for, it was a bit too late, they’d already been spotted.


The natives were friendly, and very welcoming, but they also seemed to have decided their gods had stopped by for a visit. They’d come down from the heavens after all, and how were they supposed to explain a shuttlecraft to folks who had yet to invent the wheel?


There’d been feasting in their honour, and dancing, and music, if it could be called that. The celebrations had continued all day and were still going on now, even though it was very late at night. The sun had set hours ago and the temperature had dropped, which was why Ianto was so glad of the warming, stimulating clay bowl of darrich. Being a god was exhausting.


Hopefully once the natives fell asleep he and Jack might be able to slip away. In the meantime they’d just have to deal with being worshipped.



The End










Tags: anythingdrabble, fic, fic: one-shot, fic: pg, ficlet, goac-verse, ianto jones, jack harkness, jack/ianto, torchwood fic
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