Post by wordy on Feb 8, 2010 9:24:32 GMT 10
Title: Morning
Rating: PG
Length: 514
Competitor: Faleron
Round/Fight: 1/B
Summary: Kel is late. Again.
The feeling of Faleron’s long hair tickling her on the neck woke her. She sat up with a start and swore, hopping out of bed and hurrying to find her breeches. The sun shone brightly through the shutters, hinting that it was already past morning.
Faleron yawned and sat up, looking about the room through sleep-filled eyes. “What is it? Are we being attacked?”
“No, you idiot,” said Kel, hopping about as she struggled to pull her left boot on. “I’m late. My squad will be missing me; I shouldn’t have slept past dawn.” She swore again, making Faleron smile. The Kel he had known during page training was nowhere to be seen, replaced by this irritated, gorgeous woman. “Where the hell is my shirt?” she asked, bewildered, having finally won the struggle with her boots.
Faleron looked about, before gingerly picking up something from the twist of bed sheets. “Is this it?”
Kel looked hopelessly at the crumpled shirt. “I can’t wear that. Now I’ll have to go back to my rooms first, which will only make me even more abominably late.” She sat down on the edge of the bed, her head in her hands. Faleron couldn’t help but think that she—half dressed in a breastband, breeches, and boots—was surely the most wonderful thing he had ever seen. He kissed her bare shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting way. “But how will you get back to your rooms without a shirt?” he asked.
Kel groaned again, and turned to look at him with what on another person would be called a scowl. “This is all your fault.”
“My fault? How?”
“This happens every time we stay in your rooms; I’m late, or I sleep through a meeting with Raoul, or I can’t find my blasted shirt!” Faleron tried to look abashed. It was true, that sort of thing did tend to happen when she stayed with him.
He edged closer to her and leaned his chin on her shoulder. She turned her face away. “Kel, don’t be like that.” There was no reply. He leaned around to look at her face, and tucked her hair behind her ear. Her jaw tensed, though she still didn’t say anything. “Kel, I’m sorry. I’m sorry you’re always late, or can’t find your shirt. Maybe if we stopped seeing each other, things would go back to normal – you wouldn’t oversleep...” he trailed off, looking at her uncertainly. “Kel?”
Kel sighed and looked at him with a smile. “You know I don’t want that, Fal. We’ll manage.”
Faleron smiled and leaned in to kiss her. She met his mouth with fervour, moving to put her hand to the back of his neck. Her bare shoulders felt wonderful against his skin, and when they finally pulled apart he was happy to see that she didn’t look so upset. He kissed her on the cheek. “See, everything’s fine.”
“Fine,” she echoed with a faint smile. Unclenching her hand, she looked down at the rumpled material in her hand. She sighed. “Can I borrow a shirt?”
Rating: PG
Length: 514
Competitor: Faleron
Round/Fight: 1/B
Summary: Kel is late. Again.
The feeling of Faleron’s long hair tickling her on the neck woke her. She sat up with a start and swore, hopping out of bed and hurrying to find her breeches. The sun shone brightly through the shutters, hinting that it was already past morning.
Faleron yawned and sat up, looking about the room through sleep-filled eyes. “What is it? Are we being attacked?”
“No, you idiot,” said Kel, hopping about as she struggled to pull her left boot on. “I’m late. My squad will be missing me; I shouldn’t have slept past dawn.” She swore again, making Faleron smile. The Kel he had known during page training was nowhere to be seen, replaced by this irritated, gorgeous woman. “Where the hell is my shirt?” she asked, bewildered, having finally won the struggle with her boots.
Faleron looked about, before gingerly picking up something from the twist of bed sheets. “Is this it?”
Kel looked hopelessly at the crumpled shirt. “I can’t wear that. Now I’ll have to go back to my rooms first, which will only make me even more abominably late.” She sat down on the edge of the bed, her head in her hands. Faleron couldn’t help but think that she—half dressed in a breastband, breeches, and boots—was surely the most wonderful thing he had ever seen. He kissed her bare shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting way. “But how will you get back to your rooms without a shirt?” he asked.
Kel groaned again, and turned to look at him with what on another person would be called a scowl. “This is all your fault.”
“My fault? How?”
“This happens every time we stay in your rooms; I’m late, or I sleep through a meeting with Raoul, or I can’t find my blasted shirt!” Faleron tried to look abashed. It was true, that sort of thing did tend to happen when she stayed with him.
He edged closer to her and leaned his chin on her shoulder. She turned her face away. “Kel, don’t be like that.” There was no reply. He leaned around to look at her face, and tucked her hair behind her ear. Her jaw tensed, though she still didn’t say anything. “Kel, I’m sorry. I’m sorry you’re always late, or can’t find your shirt. Maybe if we stopped seeing each other, things would go back to normal – you wouldn’t oversleep...” he trailed off, looking at her uncertainly. “Kel?”
Kel sighed and looked at him with a smile. “You know I don’t want that, Fal. We’ll manage.”
Faleron smiled and leaned in to kiss her. She met his mouth with fervour, moving to put her hand to the back of his neck. Her bare shoulders felt wonderful against his skin, and when they finally pulled apart he was happy to see that she didn’t look so upset. He kissed her on the cheek. “See, everything’s fine.”
“Fine,” she echoed with a faint smile. Unclenching her hand, she looked down at the rumpled material in her hand. She sighed. “Can I borrow a shirt?”