Post by max on May 8, 2010 14:23:07 GMT 10
Title: Echoes
Rating: PG
Prompt: Feelings and emotions
Category: 250 words
Word count: 210
Summary: In which a knight goes through the final throes of courtship.
Notes: Rushed, second person, sorry.
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The gods'-honest truth which you will never tell anyone is that you cut her out of you long before she even realised your world had ended.
These looks Neal is casting you, these touches she isn't giving, the smiles (she never did smile when she was in love with you) she's flickering your way only rebound back across your canyon-carved emptiness, and you are faking despair so easily under the light and dark of the inn's verandah, both beyond caring whether this is a token act of chivalry or not.
You will never now tell her you requested your posting in the North, though once you considered admitting it, just to see if she would look sad or hurt or anything other than Kellish, nor will she ever think to ask. She has managed to grow up extraordinarily young; once you thought you could lift some of that innocence for your own spirit, draw it over your tongue like gritty, boysenberry wine, but you know better now, sensing her hand, destined for your shoulder (where it will surely burn a hole through your deceit, in a way the barely-honourable part of you aches with) moving out of reach.
It wouldn't be right.
You haven't loved her in a long time.
Rating: PG
Prompt: Feelings and emotions
Category: 250 words
Word count: 210
Summary: In which a knight goes through the final throes of courtship.
Notes: Rushed, second person, sorry.
-
-
-
The gods'-honest truth which you will never tell anyone is that you cut her out of you long before she even realised your world had ended.
These looks Neal is casting you, these touches she isn't giving, the smiles (she never did smile when she was in love with you) she's flickering your way only rebound back across your canyon-carved emptiness, and you are faking despair so easily under the light and dark of the inn's verandah, both beyond caring whether this is a token act of chivalry or not.
You will never now tell her you requested your posting in the North, though once you considered admitting it, just to see if she would look sad or hurt or anything other than Kellish, nor will she ever think to ask. She has managed to grow up extraordinarily young; once you thought you could lift some of that innocence for your own spirit, draw it over your tongue like gritty, boysenberry wine, but you know better now, sensing her hand, destined for your shoulder (where it will surely burn a hole through your deceit, in a way the barely-honourable part of you aches with) moving out of reach.
It wouldn't be right.
You haven't loved her in a long time.
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!