Post by wordy on Aug 18, 2009 12:39:51 GMT 10
Title: Poetry
Rating: PG-13 (I honestly have no idea with ratings, so meh.)
Length: 554
Category: Tortall.
Peculiar Pairing: Neal/Evin
A/N: WARNING: Slash. Credit to Lisafer, who came up with the pairing in the first place (sorry if I stole it!) and this is for everyone, but mostly rosiexrainbow, cos i could do with some eternal love.
I
Neal first met Evin Larse when he went to visit his father one afternoon.
“Oh, sorry,” he paused at the door, trying not to look at the blonde commander’s bare chest. His shoulder was bandaged roughly.
Evin waved a hand. “Don’t worry; I’m just waiting for Baird. Got in a bit of a scrape.” He smiled at Neal. His teeth were very white.
“I was hoping to see him myself,” Neal said.
“You don’t look injured,” Evin replied, looking the knight up and down before quirking a pale eyebrow at him.
The room suddenly felt very hot. Neal cleared his throat. “He’s my father, actually.”
Evin’s smile widened. “So you’re Queenscove, eh?”
“Yes.”
“Got the Gift, I assume.”
“I’m a proficient healer, yes.”
“Then how ‘bout you come take a look at this shoulder, while we wait for your old man?”
Neal did.
II
The second time Neal encountered the young commander was on the Grand Progress. The day was scorching hot, and as they slowly made their way through the capital there was no relief from the sun.
The talk of his fellow knights as they rode along had been reduced to a dull buzzing in his ears. He could feel the sweat making a path down the back of is neck. If only he were a good enough mage to create his own personal raincloud.
While Neal was indulging in these melancholic thoughts, a flash of movement caught his eye across the lines of horses and the watching crowd. Up ahead, at the front of the numerous Rider groups, was Evin Larse. He and some other Riders were flicking water at each other from their waterskins, laughing and dodging by manoeuvring their horses with their knees. Neal’s armour suddenly felt heavier, the sweat clinging to his shirt even more noticeable.
In amongst the colourful flags and shouting people, Neal made up his mind about something.
III
“Why did you become a Rider?”
“Why not?”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Well, technically it is. Just not one you’re happy with.”
Neal hated it when he was right.
“Alright, I wanted to do something.”
“Weren’t you going to be a Player? That’s doing something.”
Silence. “I love the life of a Player, but I eventually figured out that it wasn’t enough.”
“So, you can still do tricks and stuff?” Neal knew that the other man was grinning, even though he couldn’t see his face in the darkened room.
“How ‘bout I show you one?”
IV
Neal had given up writing poetry years ago. He had been a foolish, lovestruck boy during his training years.
Despite leaving such foolishness behind him, Neal sometimes found himself reverting to his old ways.
He thought in poetry.
The way the afternoon sunlight lit up Evin’s blonde hair when they went riding, his muscles moving beneath the taut, tanned skin of his back, the fact that Neal could be talking to him one minute and caught up in his beautiful, pale eyelashes the next...
V
It was easy to tell when Evin had had a bad day. His anger and frustration seemed to channel itself into a kind of violent passion.
When Neal found himself being thrown up against the door, the blonde man’s mouth locked with his, stealing his breath in ragged gasps – Neal couldn’t help but smile.
Rating: PG-13 (I honestly have no idea with ratings, so meh.)
Length: 554
Category: Tortall.
Peculiar Pairing: Neal/Evin
A/N: WARNING: Slash. Credit to Lisafer, who came up with the pairing in the first place (sorry if I stole it!) and this is for everyone, but mostly rosiexrainbow, cos i could do with some eternal love.
I
Neal first met Evin Larse when he went to visit his father one afternoon.
“Oh, sorry,” he paused at the door, trying not to look at the blonde commander’s bare chest. His shoulder was bandaged roughly.
Evin waved a hand. “Don’t worry; I’m just waiting for Baird. Got in a bit of a scrape.” He smiled at Neal. His teeth were very white.
“I was hoping to see him myself,” Neal said.
“You don’t look injured,” Evin replied, looking the knight up and down before quirking a pale eyebrow at him.
The room suddenly felt very hot. Neal cleared his throat. “He’s my father, actually.”
Evin’s smile widened. “So you’re Queenscove, eh?”
“Yes.”
“Got the Gift, I assume.”
“I’m a proficient healer, yes.”
“Then how ‘bout you come take a look at this shoulder, while we wait for your old man?”
Neal did.
II
The second time Neal encountered the young commander was on the Grand Progress. The day was scorching hot, and as they slowly made their way through the capital there was no relief from the sun.
The talk of his fellow knights as they rode along had been reduced to a dull buzzing in his ears. He could feel the sweat making a path down the back of is neck. If only he were a good enough mage to create his own personal raincloud.
While Neal was indulging in these melancholic thoughts, a flash of movement caught his eye across the lines of horses and the watching crowd. Up ahead, at the front of the numerous Rider groups, was Evin Larse. He and some other Riders were flicking water at each other from their waterskins, laughing and dodging by manoeuvring their horses with their knees. Neal’s armour suddenly felt heavier, the sweat clinging to his shirt even more noticeable.
In amongst the colourful flags and shouting people, Neal made up his mind about something.
III
“Why did you become a Rider?”
“Why not?”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Well, technically it is. Just not one you’re happy with.”
Neal hated it when he was right.
“Alright, I wanted to do something.”
“Weren’t you going to be a Player? That’s doing something.”
Silence. “I love the life of a Player, but I eventually figured out that it wasn’t enough.”
“So, you can still do tricks and stuff?” Neal knew that the other man was grinning, even though he couldn’t see his face in the darkened room.
“How ‘bout I show you one?”
IV
Neal had given up writing poetry years ago. He had been a foolish, lovestruck boy during his training years.
Despite leaving such foolishness behind him, Neal sometimes found himself reverting to his old ways.
He thought in poetry.
The way the afternoon sunlight lit up Evin’s blonde hair when they went riding, his muscles moving beneath the taut, tanned skin of his back, the fact that Neal could be talking to him one minute and caught up in his beautiful, pale eyelashes the next...
V
It was easy to tell when Evin had had a bad day. His anger and frustration seemed to channel itself into a kind of violent passion.
When Neal found himself being thrown up against the door, the blonde man’s mouth locked with his, stealing his breath in ragged gasps – Neal couldn’t help but smile.
You made them just work.
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!