Post by opalgirl on Jun 4, 2010 12:08:00 GMT 10
Title: A Handshake Between Cousins.
Rating: PG.
Prompt: #2--Feelings and emotions.
Category: Up to 250 words.
Word count: 250 words.
Summary: George is presented with an offer he truly can't turn down.
Notes:
1): Rispah's father (Eleni's brother) being a somewhat-questionable Provost's Guard is my own headcanon.
2): Set pre-SoTL, probably not long before A:tFA opens.
George sighed. “I'm sorry, Rispah.”
“I'm not—an' I didn't come for your pity, George.” Wearing a long dress, with her hair pinned up, Rispah looked the part of a woman grown.
The same kin that had left his mother, with a babe in arms, to live in the Cesspool had thrown his cousin into the street. George set his jaw. “An' I didn't come to give it. Why didn't ye go to Mother? You know full well she's not like the rest.”
Rispah's chin lifted defiantly. “And take what Aunt Eleni's earned for herself? I won't.” She lowered her voice. “Asides, I don't think she'd like what I've been doin' to make my way.”
George blinked. “Ye mean....”
His cousin took a long pull from her tankard before she spoke. “Ye know what I mean. Talk says ye're fixin' to kick ol' Wheelwright off the throne an' take it fer yourself.”
He shrugged. “Mayhap.”
Rispah rolled her eyes. “If it'd be truth, let me help. I learned sommat from the scut that calls himself 'Guardsman'.”
“Mother will skin me, for bringin' you into this.”
“Aye. I'll tell her 'twas my idea. I'm my own lass.”
“You are.” George grinned and grasped her hand. “Swear?”
She clasped her fingers tight around his and grinned back. “Want me to spit, like I did when we was small?”
He laughed. “No. I think the barman mightn't like it.”
Rating: PG.
Prompt: #2--Feelings and emotions.
Category: Up to 250 words.
Word count: 250 words.
Summary: George is presented with an offer he truly can't turn down.
Notes:
1): Rispah's father (Eleni's brother) being a somewhat-questionable Provost's Guard is my own headcanon.
2): Set pre-SoTL, probably not long before A:tFA opens.
***
George sighed. “I'm sorry, Rispah.”
“I'm not—an' I didn't come for your pity, George.” Wearing a long dress, with her hair pinned up, Rispah looked the part of a woman grown.
The same kin that had left his mother, with a babe in arms, to live in the Cesspool had thrown his cousin into the street. George set his jaw. “An' I didn't come to give it. Why didn't ye go to Mother? You know full well she's not like the rest.”
Rispah's chin lifted defiantly. “And take what Aunt Eleni's earned for herself? I won't.” She lowered her voice. “Asides, I don't think she'd like what I've been doin' to make my way.”
George blinked. “Ye mean....”
His cousin took a long pull from her tankard before she spoke. “Ye know what I mean. Talk says ye're fixin' to kick ol' Wheelwright off the throne an' take it fer yourself.”
He shrugged. “Mayhap.”
Rispah rolled her eyes. “If it'd be truth, let me help. I learned sommat from the scut that calls himself 'Guardsman'.”
“Mother will skin me, for bringin' you into this.”
“Aye. I'll tell her 'twas my idea. I'm my own lass.”
“You are.” George grinned and grasped her hand. “Swear?”
She clasped her fingers tight around his and grinned back. “Want me to spit, like I did when we was small?”
He laughed. “No. I think the barman mightn't like it.”