Post by Tamari on Dec 3, 2012 3:04:13 GMT 10
Title: Something New
Rating: G
Prompt: festivities
Summary: Lerant and Thayine will have many Midwinters, but this is the first.
Lerant’s white knuckles hold too tight on the glass. His posture is very stiff and he does not look at anyone, only at the ground. He is no mood for festivities. Not tonight.
Someone taps him on the shoulder and he turns.
It’s a young woman, not one he knows, and definitely not one of the Own. His grip on the glass does not loosen, but he smiles tightly.
“May I help you?” he says.
“Hi!” the girl chirps. “You’re in the King’s Own, aren’t you?” She smiles at him and he’s almost blinded by the brightness in it.
He looks down at his uniform, and back up at the girl. “Yes,” he drawls. “Do you need something?”
But she’s undeterred by his rather rude tone. “Do you know Thomsen of Trebond?” she says, still in that very eager, happy voice.
Thomsen of Trebond. He’s in Lerant’s company, but they don’t associate very often, for obvious reasons. He’s quite popular with the ladies, though, unlike Lerant.
Lerant raises an eyebrow at the girl and sneers slightly. “Yes,” he says again. “Why? D’you want me to pass on love notes of some sort?”
The girl looks shocked. “What? No! Thomsen’s my brother!”
Oh.
“Oh,” he says. “Sorry, then.”
“It’s all right,” she says, recovering her good cheer. “How’s your Midwinter been so far?”
“How do you think?” he asks. He sweeps an arm around pointedly at the bustling party around them. It’s a Corus party, a court party, complete with fake smiles and finery and couples hanging off each other.
She shrugs, but her face falls a bit again and she doesn’t look all that happy. “What’s your name?”
“Lerant,” he says, because while there’s not really a reason to tell her, there’s not a reason to lie either. “Yours?”
“Thayine,” she says. “I’m Thayine.”
He nods slowly and looks around again. Nobody’s staring at the two, or, if they are, they’re being subtle about it.
“Nice to meet you, Thayine,” he says. He does have some manners, no matter what cruel rumors have been circulated by his fellow servicemen and soldiers.
“You too!” She’s chirping again. He gets the feeling of not-quite sincerity -- of genuine niceness that’s been turned into something overbearing by an outside factor. He suspects the convent, but he doesn’t know this girl and really, it’s not his place to judge.
There’s a pause, but neither of them excuses themselves and neither of them leaves. They just stare at each other.
“Look,” she says bluntly, in a stark contrast to her previous manner. “I’m having a miserable time here. Why don’t we do something, I don’t know, fun? Exciting?”
“Like what?” He raises his eyebrows again.
There’s another pause, and she’s looking at him, and obviously thinking hard about something. He waits, not too gracefully.
“Like this,” she says, and then there’s something very warm in his arms and very soft on his mouth.
He stands there for a moment, bewildered, and by the time he figures out what’s going on and also where his head went, she’s pulled back.
“Let’s dance,” she says, and he agrees.
They waltz around the room. When the music changes, they don’t stop dancing, and bump into women in full dresses and men in their finest tunics, and all the while Thayine doesn’t stop giggling and looking up at him with happy brown eyes.
“The ball isn’t quite as boring now, huh?” he says.
“No,” she beams. “Happy Midwinter, Lerant.”
Rating: G
Prompt: festivities
Summary: Lerant and Thayine will have many Midwinters, but this is the first.
Lerant’s white knuckles hold too tight on the glass. His posture is very stiff and he does not look at anyone, only at the ground. He is no mood for festivities. Not tonight.
Someone taps him on the shoulder and he turns.
It’s a young woman, not one he knows, and definitely not one of the Own. His grip on the glass does not loosen, but he smiles tightly.
“May I help you?” he says.
“Hi!” the girl chirps. “You’re in the King’s Own, aren’t you?” She smiles at him and he’s almost blinded by the brightness in it.
He looks down at his uniform, and back up at the girl. “Yes,” he drawls. “Do you need something?”
But she’s undeterred by his rather rude tone. “Do you know Thomsen of Trebond?” she says, still in that very eager, happy voice.
Thomsen of Trebond. He’s in Lerant’s company, but they don’t associate very often, for obvious reasons. He’s quite popular with the ladies, though, unlike Lerant.
Lerant raises an eyebrow at the girl and sneers slightly. “Yes,” he says again. “Why? D’you want me to pass on love notes of some sort?”
The girl looks shocked. “What? No! Thomsen’s my brother!”
Oh.
“Oh,” he says. “Sorry, then.”
“It’s all right,” she says, recovering her good cheer. “How’s your Midwinter been so far?”
“How do you think?” he asks. He sweeps an arm around pointedly at the bustling party around them. It’s a Corus party, a court party, complete with fake smiles and finery and couples hanging off each other.
She shrugs, but her face falls a bit again and she doesn’t look all that happy. “What’s your name?”
“Lerant,” he says, because while there’s not really a reason to tell her, there’s not a reason to lie either. “Yours?”
“Thayine,” she says. “I’m Thayine.”
He nods slowly and looks around again. Nobody’s staring at the two, or, if they are, they’re being subtle about it.
“Nice to meet you, Thayine,” he says. He does have some manners, no matter what cruel rumors have been circulated by his fellow servicemen and soldiers.
“You too!” She’s chirping again. He gets the feeling of not-quite sincerity -- of genuine niceness that’s been turned into something overbearing by an outside factor. He suspects the convent, but he doesn’t know this girl and really, it’s not his place to judge.
There’s a pause, but neither of them excuses themselves and neither of them leaves. They just stare at each other.
“Look,” she says bluntly, in a stark contrast to her previous manner. “I’m having a miserable time here. Why don’t we do something, I don’t know, fun? Exciting?”
“Like what?” He raises his eyebrows again.
There’s another pause, and she’s looking at him, and obviously thinking hard about something. He waits, not too gracefully.
“Like this,” she says, and then there’s something very warm in his arms and very soft on his mouth.
He stands there for a moment, bewildered, and by the time he figures out what’s going on and also where his head went, she’s pulled back.
“Let’s dance,” she says, and he agrees.
They waltz around the room. When the music changes, they don’t stop dancing, and bump into women in full dresses and men in their finest tunics, and all the while Thayine doesn’t stop giggling and looking up at him with happy brown eyes.
“The ball isn’t quite as boring now, huh?” he says.
“No,” she beams. “Happy Midwinter, Lerant.”