Post by wordy on Nov 18, 2009 12:37:37 GMT 10
Title: Disgrace
Rating: PG
Words: ~1041
Summary: Emelan!fic. Aymery Glassfire's biggest mistake.
A/N: I'm not completely happy with how this turned out, but thought I'd post it anyway.
Aymery watched dejectedly as another man scooped up his pile of coin, grinning and joking with his companions. It was difficult to keep his eyes open after so much drink, and as soon as he’d looked at the miserable hand he’d been dealt, fatigue—which felt oddly like defeat—had sunk in.
He had nothing left. Nothing. Standing up was a feat, but after a few wobbly attempts he managed to rise. A dull pounding in his head made him feel sick to the stomach; it was time to crawl home. There was no way he was going to hang around here and watch that bastard count his money.
The streets were quiet. Aymery looked up at the sky for a moment, motionless. He made a striking figure, standing in the middle of the street, despite his sudden and unfortunate turn of luck. A mage from the university, only months before he had been a bright, promising student. Handsome too, with his dark hair and eyes, always teamed with a charming smile. He still looked the part, standing in the street sometime after midnight, handsome face turned up to the night sky. But Aymery’s insides were churning, and not just because of the alcohol. With a sigh, he pulled his coat closer around him against the chilly air, and began the long walk home.
Enahar laughed heartily, slapping his hand on his knee. Aymery scowled at him, bitter about the whole situation. Although they were alone in the room, all of Enahar’s servants having been dismissed at Aymery’s request, it was still embarrassing, and quite a blow to his ego.
“And what,” said Enahar, still laughing to himself, “makes you think that I would help you, Aymery Chandler?”
“It’s Glassfire. And trust me; you are my final choice in the matter,” replied Aymery viciously.
The other man merely laughed again; he was the kind of creature who delighted in other people’s misfortune, and often found a way to benefit from it. He had truly been Aymery’s last port of call, but it seemed that no one else had wanted to bail him out from such scandalous debts, particularly not his family. So here he was.
Enahar leaned back in his chair, looking over the young man that stood before him. “I could use a mage with your talents, Glassfire. But how can I know that you won’t disappear as soon as I put some coin in your pockets?” he leared down at Aymery.
“My word should be good enough for you,” Aymery replied, clenching his jaw. He should never have come here, Aymery saw that now; it was not a good idea to get involved in the sort of work Enahar and his folk did. But no matter how much Aymery tried to walk out that door, he couldn’t. He needed money, desperately, and this was no doubt the quickest way for him to get it.
“Hmm, it should be. But it’s not. I’m not a fool Glassfire – I’m a businessman. You’d have to think me stupid if I couldn’t ensure your security in our little deal,” Enahar said.
“What kind of security?”
Enahar rose from his chair, slipping something from his pocket as he did so. Aymery only caught a glance of it, and the way it flashed in the light – a coin? Only when Enahar stood a pace in front of him—gods, the man was bigger than he remembered—did Aymery see that it was an earring. His stomach dropped as comprehension began to sink in; he didn’t like this, not at all.
“What’s the matter, Glassfire? Surely you’ve made a blood-promise before, an illustrious mage such as yourself,” grinned Enahar, obviously delighting in the displeasure that was probably visible on Aymery’s face.
Aymery had never entered into a blood-promise before; only a fool would. To put your life in the hands of another man was beyond unreasonable, it was dangerous. The earring glinted alluringly, sitting on Enahar’s open palm. He watched as a trace of magic raced across the surface of it before fading again. This was a very, very bad idea.
Enahar broke the silence. “This is your last chance at paying your debts and clearing your name. What’s your decision.”
Aymery swallowed, tearing his eyes away from the earring. “I’ll do it. I haven’t got a choice.”
“Excellent,” Enahar grinned. If Aymery had looked up at that moment, he would have seen the predatory look on the other man’s face; perhaps it would have made him change his mind. But Aymery didn’t look up, and the moment passed.
He watched tensely as Enahar pulled a small, sharp blade from his belt sheath, and tested the edge against his finger. The droplet of blood that surfaced made sweat break out on Aymery’s forehead, though he tried vainly to maintain a calm exterior. It was too late now.
Without another word, Enahar reached out to grasp Aymery’s forearm in a tight grip and raked the blade across the mage’s palm. Aymery’s head pounded with the effort of not passing out from the sight and the stinging pain. Letting go of his wrist just as quickly, Enahar then did the same to his own palm, the one holding the earring.
When Enahar held out his bloodied palm to him, Aymery stared for a moment, his heartbeat sounding loudly in his ears. His face and neck was wet with sweat now, blood from his cut palm dripping slowly onto the tiled floor. He tried to reassure himself, that he was doing the right thing, he had no more options. It didn’t quite work.
Enahar was growing impatient. There was no way he could allow the mage to back out now, when he was so close. He grabbed Aymery’s outstretched palm roughly in his own, the earring trapped between their hands in some kind of macabre handshake. As power burst from the earring, releasing a blinding white glow from between their grasp, Aymery dropped to his knees with a scream. He could feel the magic racing through their hands, and through the earring. The pain was incredible. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears running down his cheeks, willing it to stop. What had he done?
What had he done?
Rating: PG
Words: ~1041
Summary: Emelan!fic. Aymery Glassfire's biggest mistake.
A/N: I'm not completely happy with how this turned out, but thought I'd post it anyway.
Aymery watched dejectedly as another man scooped up his pile of coin, grinning and joking with his companions. It was difficult to keep his eyes open after so much drink, and as soon as he’d looked at the miserable hand he’d been dealt, fatigue—which felt oddly like defeat—had sunk in.
He had nothing left. Nothing. Standing up was a feat, but after a few wobbly attempts he managed to rise. A dull pounding in his head made him feel sick to the stomach; it was time to crawl home. There was no way he was going to hang around here and watch that bastard count his money.
The streets were quiet. Aymery looked up at the sky for a moment, motionless. He made a striking figure, standing in the middle of the street, despite his sudden and unfortunate turn of luck. A mage from the university, only months before he had been a bright, promising student. Handsome too, with his dark hair and eyes, always teamed with a charming smile. He still looked the part, standing in the street sometime after midnight, handsome face turned up to the night sky. But Aymery’s insides were churning, and not just because of the alcohol. With a sigh, he pulled his coat closer around him against the chilly air, and began the long walk home.
***
Enahar laughed heartily, slapping his hand on his knee. Aymery scowled at him, bitter about the whole situation. Although they were alone in the room, all of Enahar’s servants having been dismissed at Aymery’s request, it was still embarrassing, and quite a blow to his ego.
“And what,” said Enahar, still laughing to himself, “makes you think that I would help you, Aymery Chandler?”
“It’s Glassfire. And trust me; you are my final choice in the matter,” replied Aymery viciously.
The other man merely laughed again; he was the kind of creature who delighted in other people’s misfortune, and often found a way to benefit from it. He had truly been Aymery’s last port of call, but it seemed that no one else had wanted to bail him out from such scandalous debts, particularly not his family. So here he was.
Enahar leaned back in his chair, looking over the young man that stood before him. “I could use a mage with your talents, Glassfire. But how can I know that you won’t disappear as soon as I put some coin in your pockets?” he leared down at Aymery.
“My word should be good enough for you,” Aymery replied, clenching his jaw. He should never have come here, Aymery saw that now; it was not a good idea to get involved in the sort of work Enahar and his folk did. But no matter how much Aymery tried to walk out that door, he couldn’t. He needed money, desperately, and this was no doubt the quickest way for him to get it.
“Hmm, it should be. But it’s not. I’m not a fool Glassfire – I’m a businessman. You’d have to think me stupid if I couldn’t ensure your security in our little deal,” Enahar said.
“What kind of security?”
Enahar rose from his chair, slipping something from his pocket as he did so. Aymery only caught a glance of it, and the way it flashed in the light – a coin? Only when Enahar stood a pace in front of him—gods, the man was bigger than he remembered—did Aymery see that it was an earring. His stomach dropped as comprehension began to sink in; he didn’t like this, not at all.
“What’s the matter, Glassfire? Surely you’ve made a blood-promise before, an illustrious mage such as yourself,” grinned Enahar, obviously delighting in the displeasure that was probably visible on Aymery’s face.
Aymery had never entered into a blood-promise before; only a fool would. To put your life in the hands of another man was beyond unreasonable, it was dangerous. The earring glinted alluringly, sitting on Enahar’s open palm. He watched as a trace of magic raced across the surface of it before fading again. This was a very, very bad idea.
Enahar broke the silence. “This is your last chance at paying your debts and clearing your name. What’s your decision.”
Aymery swallowed, tearing his eyes away from the earring. “I’ll do it. I haven’t got a choice.”
“Excellent,” Enahar grinned. If Aymery had looked up at that moment, he would have seen the predatory look on the other man’s face; perhaps it would have made him change his mind. But Aymery didn’t look up, and the moment passed.
He watched tensely as Enahar pulled a small, sharp blade from his belt sheath, and tested the edge against his finger. The droplet of blood that surfaced made sweat break out on Aymery’s forehead, though he tried vainly to maintain a calm exterior. It was too late now.
Without another word, Enahar reached out to grasp Aymery’s forearm in a tight grip and raked the blade across the mage’s palm. Aymery’s head pounded with the effort of not passing out from the sight and the stinging pain. Letting go of his wrist just as quickly, Enahar then did the same to his own palm, the one holding the earring.
When Enahar held out his bloodied palm to him, Aymery stared for a moment, his heartbeat sounding loudly in his ears. His face and neck was wet with sweat now, blood from his cut palm dripping slowly onto the tiled floor. He tried to reassure himself, that he was doing the right thing, he had no more options. It didn’t quite work.
Enahar was growing impatient. There was no way he could allow the mage to back out now, when he was so close. He grabbed Aymery’s outstretched palm roughly in his own, the earring trapped between their hands in some kind of macabre handshake. As power burst from the earring, releasing a blinding white glow from between their grasp, Aymery dropped to his knees with a scream. He could feel the magic racing through their hands, and through the earring. The pain was incredible. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears running down his cheeks, willing it to stop. What had he done?
What had he done?