Post by max on Feb 23, 2010 9:03:03 GMT 10
Title: Life After People
Rating: PG-13
Length: 299
Joren
1/E
summary: Was going to write glam-rock crack but this happened instead and everyone is OOC and Joren has apparently survived his ordeal and run away from Tortall. Um. Wtf brain?
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Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world she walks into mine
He has never had a taste for spirits, but on nights like these he can’t help but hope the burning in the infuriatingly small cups will balance out the turmoil in his heart.
It’s called fighting fire with fire, or so he is told.
Suddenly there’s a shadow next to him, another person, hazel eyes all richly green in the dim tavern light; the face of a person he hoped never to see again.
‘What are you doing here Keladry.’ And he appreciates the fact that the liquor gives him an excuse to be curt. ‘Shouldn’t the Protector of The Small be where she’s most wanted?’
She slides onto a stool next to his and orders a mint tea before deigning to reply. ‘Just as courteous as ever, Stone Mountain.’
‘What do you want.’
‘Maybe I was sent to Carthak with the Royal Delegation.’
‘Except they’re all miles downriver and you’re still here.’
‘Maybe I got lost.’
He suppresses a snort – barely – and orders another neat (wicked) drink. Says, ‘So go and get found.’
He has no patience for these games – he is a villain in Tortallan aristocracy. The white-blonde black sheep (though his hair is darker now than it was). Whatever flicker of connection they once had was lost the day she destroyed the killing machines and he narrowly avoided being killed on a battlefield miles west of her.
But when she says ‘If you really want me to leave I’ll finish this and go,’ he crosses his arms, and says
‘f*** you, Keladry of Mindelan.’ Because he has never had a choice at all, and the least he can do is not give her the satisfaction of his beating heart.
Rating: PG-13
Length: 299
Joren
1/E
summary: Was going to write glam-rock crack but this happened instead and everyone is OOC and Joren has apparently survived his ordeal and run away from Tortall. Um. Wtf brain?
______________________________________
Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world she walks into mine
He has never had a taste for spirits, but on nights like these he can’t help but hope the burning in the infuriatingly small cups will balance out the turmoil in his heart.
It’s called fighting fire with fire, or so he is told.
Suddenly there’s a shadow next to him, another person, hazel eyes all richly green in the dim tavern light; the face of a person he hoped never to see again.
‘What are you doing here Keladry.’ And he appreciates the fact that the liquor gives him an excuse to be curt. ‘Shouldn’t the Protector of The Small be where she’s most wanted?’
She slides onto a stool next to his and orders a mint tea before deigning to reply. ‘Just as courteous as ever, Stone Mountain.’
‘What do you want.’
‘Maybe I was sent to Carthak with the Royal Delegation.’
‘Except they’re all miles downriver and you’re still here.’
‘Maybe I got lost.’
He suppresses a snort – barely – and orders another neat (wicked) drink. Says, ‘So go and get found.’
He has no patience for these games – he is a villain in Tortallan aristocracy. The white-blonde black sheep (though his hair is darker now than it was). Whatever flicker of connection they once had was lost the day she destroyed the killing machines and he narrowly avoided being killed on a battlefield miles west of her.
But when she says ‘If you really want me to leave I’ll finish this and go,’ he crosses his arms, and says
‘f*** you, Keladry of Mindelan.’ Because he has never had a choice at all, and the least he can do is not give her the satisfaction of his beating heart.