Post by Seek on Mar 8, 2011 19:06:46 GMT 10
Title: Meeting
Rating: G
Word Count: 399 words
Pairing: Dom/Evin - Team Underpants
Round/Fight: 1/A
Summary: The first time Dom meets Evin, and something very familiar happens.
-
The first few days of being in the Own, Dom decided morosely, hadn’t been too bad. That was, apart from the constant drills and surprise checks that ranged from equipment to uniform and even regulations, and Dom hadn’t even thought that someone could forget the requirements when it came to half-tack. The Bazhir sergeant in charge of their squad was a regular terror and he’d all but managed to put the fear of Mithros in them. (Or screaming Bazhir men, at any rate.)
But all of that was nothing compared to being dragged out of the barracks in the middle of the night, with Mutasim yelling at the top of his considerable lungs that Willem’s Crossing was suffering from an Immortal raid and Third Company was being mobilised to deal with it. Mind half-fogged from sleep, Dom had completely forgotten where the packs were stowed, and was all but wrestling with the shapeless lump that his burnoose had become. Wolset glanced at his and snorted; Dom elbowed him.
Three failed inspections later, and one long and churning ride through the night, swapping between mounts and remounts in the rain, and here they were, dismounting, wet, cold, and shivering and wondering if the work was about to begin. Hurroks, Mutasim had said, and made the Sign.
The Queen’s Riders travelled far lighter and were already there, warming themselves around a roaring fire that sizzled where the rain met fire. It was a bright yellow fire, and Dom wondered if someone had kindled it with the Gift. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around, to meet a pair of friendly eyes and an inviting smile. “Bet you just came charging out of bed and down the stairs,” the fellow, in the colours of the Queen’s Riders, drawled. “Eat up. You look half-dead.”
He appeared to pull a roll out of Dom’s ear and handed it to him. Dom took it, bit into it. The cheese turnover was good, still warm. “Evin Larse,” the Rider said. “And who’re you?”
“Domitan of Masbolle,” Dom introduced. He wolfed down the roll in a few quick bites. He hadn’t realised how hungry he was.
“There,” Evin said with a charming grin, “You look much better now. Stay sharp.” He clapped Dom once around the back and then headed off, wandering back towards the throng of assembled Riders. “See you after the fight.”
QC by: wordy
Rating: G
Word Count: 399 words
Pairing: Dom/Evin - Team Underpants
Round/Fight: 1/A
Summary: The first time Dom meets Evin, and something very familiar happens.
-
The first few days of being in the Own, Dom decided morosely, hadn’t been too bad. That was, apart from the constant drills and surprise checks that ranged from equipment to uniform and even regulations, and Dom hadn’t even thought that someone could forget the requirements when it came to half-tack. The Bazhir sergeant in charge of their squad was a regular terror and he’d all but managed to put the fear of Mithros in them. (Or screaming Bazhir men, at any rate.)
But all of that was nothing compared to being dragged out of the barracks in the middle of the night, with Mutasim yelling at the top of his considerable lungs that Willem’s Crossing was suffering from an Immortal raid and Third Company was being mobilised to deal with it. Mind half-fogged from sleep, Dom had completely forgotten where the packs were stowed, and was all but wrestling with the shapeless lump that his burnoose had become. Wolset glanced at his and snorted; Dom elbowed him.
Three failed inspections later, and one long and churning ride through the night, swapping between mounts and remounts in the rain, and here they were, dismounting, wet, cold, and shivering and wondering if the work was about to begin. Hurroks, Mutasim had said, and made the Sign.
The Queen’s Riders travelled far lighter and were already there, warming themselves around a roaring fire that sizzled where the rain met fire. It was a bright yellow fire, and Dom wondered if someone had kindled it with the Gift. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around, to meet a pair of friendly eyes and an inviting smile. “Bet you just came charging out of bed and down the stairs,” the fellow, in the colours of the Queen’s Riders, drawled. “Eat up. You look half-dead.”
He appeared to pull a roll out of Dom’s ear and handed it to him. Dom took it, bit into it. The cheese turnover was good, still warm. “Evin Larse,” the Rider said. “And who’re you?”
“Domitan of Masbolle,” Dom introduced. He wolfed down the roll in a few quick bites. He hadn’t realised how hungry he was.
“There,” Evin said with a charming grin, “You look much better now. Stay sharp.” He clapped Dom once around the back and then headed off, wandering back towards the throng of assembled Riders. “See you after the fight.”
QC by: wordy