Post by indifferentred on Apr 6, 2015 4:18:52 GMT 10
Series: Two Steps Forward (Yazmín/Vedris)
Title: The Future
Rating: PG
Event: 400 Word Cross-Country
Competition: Decathlon
Words: 400
Summary: Yazmín and Vedris discuss the future.
Sunsday afternoons were made for this. She is cradled safely against him on the chaise in her sitting room, the winter rain pounding against the shutters outside. Soon, she will have to get up and ready herself for a rare evening performance, but for now she is free to laze.
“Marry me,” he murmurs.
She shifts and reaches up to stroke his face; it’s a question she’s been expecting for some time now. Vedris adds, “I’m tired of hiding the way I feel about you."
She snorts with sudden laughter, thinking of all the dinners and balls and theatre performances to which she has accompanied him over the past two years. “I doubt that you’ve managed to hide me from anyone, sweetling,” she teases softly, putting off the moment when she will have to answer him, but he seems to sense her feelings anyway and his face creases into a frown down the middle, making him look older and sadder. She doesn’t like to see that look on his face so she hooks her hand around the back of his neck and draws his lips onto hers.
At last they part, and he asks quietly, “Is this because of Franzen? Because in my estimation, his opinion on my private affairs falls some way below that of the kitchen cat.”
She shakes her head. “No. This has nothing to do with your charming son, I promise.” They share a glimmer of amusement at the mention of his oldest son’s disapproval, and then Yazmín confesses, “Vedris, I don’t want to be a Duchess.”
He begins to nod, but her palm on his cheek halts him. “I adore you,” she whispers. “I want to wake up next to you every morning for at least the foreseeable future, but I have absolutely no desire to take Ysabela’s place.” She hesitates, biting her lip. “Is that terribly selfish of me?”
“My dear,” he sighs, exasperated. “You aren't selfish. You have brought me more joy than I thought possible.”
Yazmín blushes. “And you me.” She pauses. “I can’t promise that I won’t leave you,” she murmurs eventually. “But… I will promise always to come back. Can you… be happy with that, Vedris?”
He nods, a slow smile breaking out over his face. “Do you know, Mistress Hebet, I believe that I can?”
Eyes glinting mischievously, Yazmín reminds him, “Of course, Franzen doesn’t need to know that…”
Title: The Future
Rating: PG
Event: 400 Word Cross-Country
Competition: Decathlon
Words: 400
Summary: Yazmín and Vedris discuss the future.
Sunsday afternoons were made for this. She is cradled safely against him on the chaise in her sitting room, the winter rain pounding against the shutters outside. Soon, she will have to get up and ready herself for a rare evening performance, but for now she is free to laze.
“Marry me,” he murmurs.
She shifts and reaches up to stroke his face; it’s a question she’s been expecting for some time now. Vedris adds, “I’m tired of hiding the way I feel about you."
She snorts with sudden laughter, thinking of all the dinners and balls and theatre performances to which she has accompanied him over the past two years. “I doubt that you’ve managed to hide me from anyone, sweetling,” she teases softly, putting off the moment when she will have to answer him, but he seems to sense her feelings anyway and his face creases into a frown down the middle, making him look older and sadder. She doesn’t like to see that look on his face so she hooks her hand around the back of his neck and draws his lips onto hers.
At last they part, and he asks quietly, “Is this because of Franzen? Because in my estimation, his opinion on my private affairs falls some way below that of the kitchen cat.”
She shakes her head. “No. This has nothing to do with your charming son, I promise.” They share a glimmer of amusement at the mention of his oldest son’s disapproval, and then Yazmín confesses, “Vedris, I don’t want to be a Duchess.”
He begins to nod, but her palm on his cheek halts him. “I adore you,” she whispers. “I want to wake up next to you every morning for at least the foreseeable future, but I have absolutely no desire to take Ysabela’s place.” She hesitates, biting her lip. “Is that terribly selfish of me?”
“My dear,” he sighs, exasperated. “You aren't selfish. You have brought me more joy than I thought possible.”
Yazmín blushes. “And you me.” She pauses. “I can’t promise that I won’t leave you,” she murmurs eventually. “But… I will promise always to come back. Can you… be happy with that, Vedris?”
He nods, a slow smile breaking out over his face. “Do you know, Mistress Hebet, I believe that I can?”
Eyes glinting mischievously, Yazmín reminds him, “Of course, Franzen doesn’t need to know that…”