Post by Kit on Feb 15, 2010 11:55:15 GMT 10
Title: Sorrowless Field
Rating: PG
Length: 760
Competitor: Neal
Round: 1/C
Summary: "And then you parted from me/where the road splits in three/ All of those roads were for the taking..." Neal wants something.
“Kel.”
Neal, used to unflattering description, felt it had reached a peak with Alanna. One look at him in his father’s office, and she’d said—and, Gods, she had said it calmly, so he’d found out not too much later— that he was, “A long streak of not-so-much,” who probably doubled any salute he might have to give as a means of fixing his hair.
Still, long and streaky or otherwise, he had a good yell in him.
“Keladry.”
Kel turned, laughing. “That was uncivilised of you.”
“You’re the one dragging me out into a field!”
As he tramped towards her, the hands she held above her head loomed larger and more dust streaked. “I’m not dragging you anywhere.”
“Don’t be obtuse, Mindelan.”
`
“I told you, I just had to see to a few things—”
“—Kel, you’re mending fences.” He had reached her. It was near dusk, and light was sheeting around them in the sort of yellow-copper that tinged everything it touched, enriching it; turning grass or boot leather or clouds into new kinds of metal. He curled his hand around the post, tugging it.
“Don’t!”
“There is a whole roster of people who mend fences,” he told her, smiling despite himself. “And I know, before you say it, sweet: you just ‘put yourself on the damn roster’. But these other fine people have something that you do not.”
The Lady Knight of Mindelan, Commander of New Hope, went very still. “Neal, if you talk about noble privilege you are not going to be able to sit down for a month. Two months.”
“You have the grit, the determination, a certain gravitas with a shovel—”
“—I’ll leave your hands unbruised—”
“—an overall willingness to haul—”
“—But only because we need them—”
“—but they have—”
“Out with it, Neal!”
`
“—Carpentry.”
Silence. Her hand, slowly covering his own and squeezing.
“You are in trouble.”
They both laughed, hard, and Neal hugged her. She was leaning into his shoulder; her hair, short and soft, tickled his ear and the back of his neck. “I know,” he said, when he could. “But so are you. When you order me to go over every single resident—”
“—Neal, I’m fine—”
“—you embody every single resident. It’s unsettling. Do I have to whack you with Yuki’s fan?”
“You know what she says about playing with grown-up toys. And I’ll embody nothing of the kind.”
She was smiling at him. A full smile, exasperated, far enough away from him now to loom slightly, his hands firmly grasping her forearms in a grip he would even give her three seconds to break.
It was, he thought rather crazily, something, that her noise was still unbroken. What that something was, he had no idea.
Foolish notion.
Green light bloomed palely at his fingertips, and Kel jumped.
“Since,” he murmured, steady, “You’ve made me come all the way out here, calling you like a shepherdess--don’t refuse the healer, Kel.”
“I wish,” said Kel, very soft, “You didn’t know that story.”
“It’s a good story.” Magic ghosted across her skin as he ran one hand lightly over her upper arm, her shoulder. He knelt, eyes half closed, slipping both hands cleanly, carefully, over her waist and hips, easing an ache in the left one, bringing out a bruise on her right thigh so it would no longer hide and build itself into pain. Quick, experienced touches to knees and ankles, the feet that bore her and everything in her besides.
“There,” he said, rising and smiling as Kel grasped his shoulders to haul him to his feet. “Nothing wrong so far.”
“Neal. Are you…?”
He cupped her face, feeling the long, strong bones under his hands, one of them travelling back slowly to rest at the back of her skull. The light sank into her skin, gilding and greening her. “Yes?”
“You don’t have to touch me.”
They both stood very still, and she was right.
His eyes opened, and he nodded, swallowing, feeling the sudden contained rush of blood under his hand and her cheek. With one finger, before stepping away, he traced the delicate, unbroken line of her nose, and that made her laugh.
“You’re mad. And that tickles.”
“I…I wanted to.” He grinned, backing another step and leaning against the dilapidated fence. “And you’re all set.”
“For what?”
“Just…set.”
Kel looked at him, and her smile was not one he had seen before. “You’re still mad,” she said.
And then she walked away.
Rating: PG
Length: 760
Competitor: Neal
Round: 1/C
Summary: "And then you parted from me/where the road splits in three/ All of those roads were for the taking..." Neal wants something.
“Kel.”
Neal, used to unflattering description, felt it had reached a peak with Alanna. One look at him in his father’s office, and she’d said—and, Gods, she had said it calmly, so he’d found out not too much later— that he was, “A long streak of not-so-much,” who probably doubled any salute he might have to give as a means of fixing his hair.
Still, long and streaky or otherwise, he had a good yell in him.
“Keladry.”
Kel turned, laughing. “That was uncivilised of you.”
“You’re the one dragging me out into a field!”
As he tramped towards her, the hands she held above her head loomed larger and more dust streaked. “I’m not dragging you anywhere.”
“Don’t be obtuse, Mindelan.”
`
“I told you, I just had to see to a few things—”
“—Kel, you’re mending fences.” He had reached her. It was near dusk, and light was sheeting around them in the sort of yellow-copper that tinged everything it touched, enriching it; turning grass or boot leather or clouds into new kinds of metal. He curled his hand around the post, tugging it.
“Don’t!”
“There is a whole roster of people who mend fences,” he told her, smiling despite himself. “And I know, before you say it, sweet: you just ‘put yourself on the damn roster’. But these other fine people have something that you do not.”
The Lady Knight of Mindelan, Commander of New Hope, went very still. “Neal, if you talk about noble privilege you are not going to be able to sit down for a month. Two months.”
“You have the grit, the determination, a certain gravitas with a shovel—”
“—I’ll leave your hands unbruised—”
“—an overall willingness to haul—”
“—But only because we need them—”
“—but they have—”
“Out with it, Neal!”
`
“—Carpentry.”
Silence. Her hand, slowly covering his own and squeezing.
“You are in trouble.”
They both laughed, hard, and Neal hugged her. She was leaning into his shoulder; her hair, short and soft, tickled his ear and the back of his neck. “I know,” he said, when he could. “But so are you. When you order me to go over every single resident—”
“—Neal, I’m fine—”
“—you embody every single resident. It’s unsettling. Do I have to whack you with Yuki’s fan?”
“You know what she says about playing with grown-up toys. And I’ll embody nothing of the kind.”
She was smiling at him. A full smile, exasperated, far enough away from him now to loom slightly, his hands firmly grasping her forearms in a grip he would even give her three seconds to break.
It was, he thought rather crazily, something, that her noise was still unbroken. What that something was, he had no idea.
Foolish notion.
Green light bloomed palely at his fingertips, and Kel jumped.
“Since,” he murmured, steady, “You’ve made me come all the way out here, calling you like a shepherdess--don’t refuse the healer, Kel.”
“I wish,” said Kel, very soft, “You didn’t know that story.”
“It’s a good story.” Magic ghosted across her skin as he ran one hand lightly over her upper arm, her shoulder. He knelt, eyes half closed, slipping both hands cleanly, carefully, over her waist and hips, easing an ache in the left one, bringing out a bruise on her right thigh so it would no longer hide and build itself into pain. Quick, experienced touches to knees and ankles, the feet that bore her and everything in her besides.
“There,” he said, rising and smiling as Kel grasped his shoulders to haul him to his feet. “Nothing wrong so far.”
“Neal. Are you…?”
He cupped her face, feeling the long, strong bones under his hands, one of them travelling back slowly to rest at the back of her skull. The light sank into her skin, gilding and greening her. “Yes?”
“You don’t have to touch me.”
They both stood very still, and she was right.
His eyes opened, and he nodded, swallowing, feeling the sudden contained rush of blood under his hand and her cheek. With one finger, before stepping away, he traced the delicate, unbroken line of her nose, and that made her laugh.
“You’re mad. And that tickles.”
“I…I wanted to.” He grinned, backing another step and leaning against the dilapidated fence. “And you’re all set.”
“For what?”
“Just…set.”
Kel looked at him, and her smile was not one he had seen before. “You’re still mad,” she said.
And then she walked away.