Post by Kit on Feb 17, 2010 0:29:25 GMT 10
Title: Sorrowless Field. VI
Rating: PG
Length: 1,300
Competitor: Neal
Round: 1/C
Summary: Final stanzas. Neal begins to see, Tobe finds a new way to keep an old vigil.
“I won’t make him leave, Lady.”
Tobe was careful not to touch Yuki; careful not to be touched. He stood, shivering, his light hair crackling around his face.
“I thought you would be with—”
“—Don’t mean to interrupt, Lady, but she left me and she didn’t even mean to. And Queenscove fixed me more than once.” He swallowed, suddenly, eyes filling. Yuki looked down and he looked away. “I don’t mean, I mean,” he said thickly. “I have proper words now, and if I’d just gotten there sooner, not now, I mean, but then—”
“—You won’t make him leave, Tobeis Boon?”
“I promise.”
Each was careful not to meet the other’s eyes as Tobe stepped past her into the room she and her husband shared.
“Sir Nealan?”
The knight faced a monolith. Paper loomed before and on either side of him, mute and unrelenting, filthy and stained. Floorboards creaked under Tobe’s weight as he approached the desk, careful to leave a clear path to Yuki and the door.
“Neal?”
“Why…” this was not the drawl Tobe remembered from the lean young man who had condemned the lice in his hair, and confirmed that food was somewhat necessary to life. This was a stuck voice, still shuddering with the single scream from before, when he had seen her body. It had been just a body, by then, with sticks and mud and not even the faintest expression of surprise.
“Why did you leave her? How could you.”
Tobe shivered. “I just told your lady wife,” he said, attempting some of his mistress’s living stillness. “She left me first, and this…” he swallowed. “This isn’t something I can stow away on. You, though—”
“—I need to finish this.”
Tobe sat by Neal’s desk, spine pressed into the edge of one of its solid, dark legs. The elegant sort of solid that had taken weeks to transport, with lots of shouting.
“You just go ahead and finish it,” he said. “You finish, you remember, and Lady Yukimi’ll keep the lords and that lot out. She’s fierce.”
“I love her.” Sudden words, over the top of Tobe’s, and livid with that old scream.
“I think she knows that, right enough.”
“I miss so much.”
“And you’ll miss more, sir. You know…” Tobe shifted. This felt a confidence betrayed, somehow, or at least not the thing that young men of substance discussed with older sorts, or even amongst themselves. But the world, after all, had gone mad. Tobe knew he should be madder, himself. Something was waiting for him, and it had teeth worse than metal monsters or even the sight of Meech’s old doll, alone and bald from waiting and fear. It was big, and he was angry—so very angry. But whatever it was, it wasn’t waiting for him in the room where Kel lay, where there was always some gawker in the doorway or weeper over hands that did not feel. Besides, Jump was there, and Tobe trusted him to bite anyone with incense.
Neal of Queenscove looked like Tobe felt, and Neal had fixed him up, once or twice.
“What, Tobe? I don’t know anything.”
“I know she was happy when she came back to her rooms that morning. She went out dawn-like, to check on everyone like she always di—does. She checked, and she came back the way she sometimes can, all long and loose and not smiling so much as being, you know?”
“How do you know?”
“Just do, sir. She came back, and she said you were sweet. To herself, of course, but I still heard. So sweet, she said.” Enough to make giddiness—she’d said that, too, but Neal was already crying, raw and stifled like there was stuff in his throat, and Tobe suddenly knew he did need all those words.
“You just finish what you’re doing, sir. I’ll stay right here.”
“You know Merric gets tetchy when you go on patrol.”
“Merric,” Kel murmured, “Is a naturally tetchy person.”
She had stood behind him at the rosters before dawn, a solid, warm presence just shy of his skin. The rain had not stopped. It was going to be a grey and miserable day; the sort where Yuki longed for softer heat and a cold that, she insisted, was clean.
Kel felt clean, and warm, and Neal had scowled, turning to face her.
“The point of making an example,” she said to the scowl, “Is maintaining it.”
“Your philosophy is nothing if not consistent.” Neal felt a smile, tired as he was, slowly tug at the corner of his mouth.
Kel laughed, hands falling to his shoulders. “That is what I just said.”
Neal, as he’d looked at her, thought of all the emotions he’d seen born and reborn in her face.
Foolish notion.
“What is it?”
“You,” he told her. “I don’t think I’ll ever know what you’re thinking. You just showed me what exasperation really looks like.”
“And to think everyone once said they wanted to punch you just for saying hello.”
“You heard that one?”
“Neal.” Her hands were still there, bracing. “I helped start it.”
The kiss, when it came, was easy to slip, the tilt of his head dragging her lips softly across his cheek to the corner of her mouth, and then, with their shared gasp, briefly against it. Barely a touch, awkward and breathless and soon dissipated in the air of the damp, empty corridor.
“Safe patrol, Lady Knight.”
“That doesn’t—”
“—Never, sweet. I just…learned a little more of you, is all.”
Kel laughed, pulling away. “Please, please don’t write three scrolls on your findings.”
“I won’t.” His answering grin had been shaky. “But I’ll probably over think things.”
“I’ll see you at dinner.”
“Here,” said Neal, at last. “Keep this. Do what you like with it.”
A thin scroll, raggedly cut and sewn, ink bleeding all over the place. “You want me to read it?”
Neal’s laugh surprised both of them. “Not so sure my poetry’s a fit part of your education, Tobe. The meter’s all over the place. Not classical at all. There's no scanning it.”
“Sir?”
“Tobe?”
“You’re babbling, sir. Just a little. And it’s all right to babble, I reckon, right now, but you’re also standing, and this is making me a mite nervous.
“I’m finished. I need to see. I need to hold my wife. I need to break things. I need to let Raoul hit me and I need to find my father and I think I heard Lady Alanna out there and I need to see—”
“—I think you’re meant to do things one at a time, sir.”
“I’m finished, Tobe.”
“No,” said the boy, looking up, guarding himself. “She is.”
Rating: PG
Length: 1,300
Competitor: Neal
Round: 1/C
Summary: Final stanzas. Neal begins to see, Tobe finds a new way to keep an old vigil.
“I won’t make him leave, Lady.”
Tobe was careful not to touch Yuki; careful not to be touched. He stood, shivering, his light hair crackling around his face.
“I thought you would be with—”
“—Don’t mean to interrupt, Lady, but she left me and she didn’t even mean to. And Queenscove fixed me more than once.” He swallowed, suddenly, eyes filling. Yuki looked down and he looked away. “I don’t mean, I mean,” he said thickly. “I have proper words now, and if I’d just gotten there sooner, not now, I mean, but then—”
“—You won’t make him leave, Tobeis Boon?”
“I promise.”
Each was careful not to meet the other’s eyes as Tobe stepped past her into the room she and her husband shared.
I dreamt last night of a Sorrowlessfield
We lay all day in the meadow
I dreamt last night of a Sorrowlessfield
Unburdened by destiny’s shadow
“Sir Nealan?”
The knight faced a monolith. Paper loomed before and on either side of him, mute and unrelenting, filthy and stained. Floorboards creaked under Tobe’s weight as he approached the desk, careful to leave a clear path to Yuki and the door.
“Neal?”
“Why…” this was not the drawl Tobe remembered from the lean young man who had condemned the lice in his hair, and confirmed that food was somewhat necessary to life. This was a stuck voice, still shuddering with the single scream from before, when he had seen her body. It had been just a body, by then, with sticks and mud and not even the faintest expression of surprise.
“Why did you leave her? How could you.”
Tobe shivered. “I just told your lady wife,” he said, attempting some of his mistress’s living stillness. “She left me first, and this…” he swallowed. “This isn’t something I can stow away on. You, though—”
“—I need to finish this.”
Tobe sat by Neal’s desk, spine pressed into the edge of one of its solid, dark legs. The elegant sort of solid that had taken weeks to transport, with lots of shouting.
“You just go ahead and finish it,” he said. “You finish, you remember, and Lady Yukimi’ll keep the lords and that lot out. She’s fierce.”
“I love her.” Sudden words, over the top of Tobe’s, and livid with that old scream.
“I think she knows that, right enough.”
“I miss so much.”
“And you’ll miss more, sir. You know…” Tobe shifted. This felt a confidence betrayed, somehow, or at least not the thing that young men of substance discussed with older sorts, or even amongst themselves. But the world, after all, had gone mad. Tobe knew he should be madder, himself. Something was waiting for him, and it had teeth worse than metal monsters or even the sight of Meech’s old doll, alone and bald from waiting and fear. It was big, and he was angry—so very angry. But whatever it was, it wasn’t waiting for him in the room where Kel lay, where there was always some gawker in the doorway or weeper over hands that did not feel. Besides, Jump was there, and Tobe trusted him to bite anyone with incense.
Neal of Queenscove looked like Tobe felt, and Neal had fixed him up, once or twice.
“What, Tobe? I don’t know anything.”
“I know she was happy when she came back to her rooms that morning. She went out dawn-like, to check on everyone like she always di—does. She checked, and she came back the way she sometimes can, all long and loose and not smiling so much as being, you know?”
“How do you know?”
“Just do, sir. She came back, and she said you were sweet. To herself, of course, but I still heard. So sweet, she said.” Enough to make giddiness—she’d said that, too, but Neal was already crying, raw and stifled like there was stuff in his throat, and Tobe suddenly knew he did need all those words.
“You just finish what you’re doing, sir. I’ll stay right here.”
I surrendered my skin
Until evening came in…
Upon every joy of creation
I dreamed last night of a Sorrowlessfield
And woke to a lamentation
“You know Merric gets tetchy when you go on patrol.”
“Merric,” Kel murmured, “Is a naturally tetchy person.”
She had stood behind him at the rosters before dawn, a solid, warm presence just shy of his skin. The rain had not stopped. It was going to be a grey and miserable day; the sort where Yuki longed for softer heat and a cold that, she insisted, was clean.
Kel felt clean, and warm, and Neal had scowled, turning to face her.
“The point of making an example,” she said to the scowl, “Is maintaining it.”
“Your philosophy is nothing if not consistent.” Neal felt a smile, tired as he was, slowly tug at the corner of his mouth.
Kel laughed, hands falling to his shoulders. “That is what I just said.”
Neal, as he’d looked at her, thought of all the emotions he’d seen born and reborn in her face.
Foolish notion.
“What is it?”
“You,” he told her. “I don’t think I’ll ever know what you’re thinking. You just showed me what exasperation really looks like.”
“And to think everyone once said they wanted to punch you just for saying hello.”
“You heard that one?”
“Neal.” Her hands were still there, bracing. “I helped start it.”
The kiss, when it came, was easy to slip, the tilt of his head dragging her lips softly across his cheek to the corner of her mouth, and then, with their shared gasp, briefly against it. Barely a touch, awkward and breathless and soon dissipated in the air of the damp, empty corridor.
“Safe patrol, Lady Knight.”
“That doesn’t—”
“—Never, sweet. I just…learned a little more of you, is all.”
Kel laughed, pulling away. “Please, please don’t write three scrolls on your findings.”
“I won’t.” His answering grin had been shaky. “But I’ll probably over think things.”
“I’ll see you at dinner.”
I dreamt last night of a Sorrowlessfield
The only one left without sorrow
I dreamt last night of a Sorrowlessfield
And you said you would see me tomorrow
And then you parted from me, where the road splits in three
All of those roads were for the taking…
“Here,” said Neal, at last. “Keep this. Do what you like with it.”
A thin scroll, raggedly cut and sewn, ink bleeding all over the place. “You want me to read it?”
Neal’s laugh surprised both of them. “Not so sure my poetry’s a fit part of your education, Tobe. The meter’s all over the place. Not classical at all. There's no scanning it.”
“Sir?”
“Tobe?”
“You’re babbling, sir. Just a little. And it’s all right to babble, I reckon, right now, but you’re also standing, and this is making me a mite nervous.
“I’m finished. I need to see. I need to hold my wife. I need to break things. I need to let Raoul hit me and I need to find my father and I think I heard Lady Alanna out there and I need to see—”
“—I think you’re meant to do things one at a time, sir.”
“I’m finished, Tobe.”
“No,” said the boy, looking up, guarding himself. “She is.”
I dreamed last night of a Sorrowlessfield
And woke to the sound of my own heart breaking