Post by Seek on Apr 3, 2015 23:21:30 GMT 10
Series: A Pale View of Hills
Title: To Each A Season
Rating: PG-13
Event: 4x100 "Types of Love" Relay
Competition: Decathlon
Words: 400 words
Summary: Four loves, four seasons.
-
1. Eros [Winter]
It might have felt like a betrayal, the first time they lay with each other, except he was no longer the boy who fled the bloodbaths that stained the soil in the hill country, permanently. Twenty-seven years separate him from that boy, who might have felt some sense of outrage as he traces each of her scars.
Her gaze knowing, Sabine says, “You’ve never asked me about my time in the hill country.”
“You’re right,” he says. He reaches out, draws her against him, a sort of bulwark against the lonely night and the memories. “I don’t want to know.”
-
2. Philia [Summer]
As he kneels to check the trail of blood, Mattes hears the solid smack of a baton meeting bone and whirls about to watch Clary administer a nap tap so perfect that Sergeant Hakuri himself would’ve wept with jealousy.
“Well?” he asks, eyebrow raised.
“You were right. This time, Mattes,” Clary retorts, in grudging acknowledgement. She bends over and deftly hobbles the Rat, just in case he wakes up and gets the idea to run again or in case he’s minded to cut up a few Dogs. “You don’t get to have all the fun, understand?”
“Never,” he promises, solemnly.
-
3. Agape [Autumn]
“I suppose,” Mattes says, with far more amusement than Clary’s willing to show, “There’s some deep reason explaining why you’re knee-deep in scummer, Puppy.” Clary elbows him.
“Someone had to do it. And you weren’t going to volunteer.”
“A tall cove like me? And think of the Puppy, for shame,” he adds, sagaciously. “Can’t be leaving her in there while we decide who’s going in.”
Clary’s mouth twitches in a smile. “Mother save us,” she mutters, “You’d think I was asking you to raise her.”
Beka coughs.
“Clary’s coming, Puppy. Just hold on.”
It’s definitely a gulp that he hears.
-
4. Storge [Spring]
“It isn’t often I’m called on to work bronze these days,” his grandmother says; lets out a wistful sigh. “Bronze doesn’t hold an edge as well as steel, but it never rusts. Steel’s stronger, remember that. But bronze endures.”
“But then why did we change?” he asks. Unlike steel, bronze is worked cold, so he’s allowed to stand almost next to her as she hammers out a traditional, curving makhaira.
“The world doesn’t stop for us, Mattes.” For a moment, she reaches down to ruffle his hair. “Sometimes that means we have to throw out the old ways to survive.”
Title: To Each A Season
Rating: PG-13
Event: 4x100 "Types of Love" Relay
Competition: Decathlon
Words: 400 words
Summary: Four loves, four seasons.
-
1. Eros [Winter]
It might have felt like a betrayal, the first time they lay with each other, except he was no longer the boy who fled the bloodbaths that stained the soil in the hill country, permanently. Twenty-seven years separate him from that boy, who might have felt some sense of outrage as he traces each of her scars.
Her gaze knowing, Sabine says, “You’ve never asked me about my time in the hill country.”
“You’re right,” he says. He reaches out, draws her against him, a sort of bulwark against the lonely night and the memories. “I don’t want to know.”
-
2. Philia [Summer]
As he kneels to check the trail of blood, Mattes hears the solid smack of a baton meeting bone and whirls about to watch Clary administer a nap tap so perfect that Sergeant Hakuri himself would’ve wept with jealousy.
“Well?” he asks, eyebrow raised.
“You were right. This time, Mattes,” Clary retorts, in grudging acknowledgement. She bends over and deftly hobbles the Rat, just in case he wakes up and gets the idea to run again or in case he’s minded to cut up a few Dogs. “You don’t get to have all the fun, understand?”
“Never,” he promises, solemnly.
-
3. Agape [Autumn]
“I suppose,” Mattes says, with far more amusement than Clary’s willing to show, “There’s some deep reason explaining why you’re knee-deep in scummer, Puppy.” Clary elbows him.
“Someone had to do it. And you weren’t going to volunteer.”
“A tall cove like me? And think of the Puppy, for shame,” he adds, sagaciously. “Can’t be leaving her in there while we decide who’s going in.”
Clary’s mouth twitches in a smile. “Mother save us,” she mutters, “You’d think I was asking you to raise her.”
Beka coughs.
“Clary’s coming, Puppy. Just hold on.”
It’s definitely a gulp that he hears.
-
4. Storge [Spring]
“It isn’t often I’m called on to work bronze these days,” his grandmother says; lets out a wistful sigh. “Bronze doesn’t hold an edge as well as steel, but it never rusts. Steel’s stronger, remember that. But bronze endures.”
“But then why did we change?” he asks. Unlike steel, bronze is worked cold, so he’s allowed to stand almost next to her as she hammers out a traditional, curving makhaira.
“The world doesn’t stop for us, Mattes.” For a moment, she reaches down to ruffle his hair. “Sometimes that means we have to throw out the old ways to survive.”