Post by Carbon Kiwi on May 29, 2011 8:19:55 GMT 10
Title: Love [3]
Rating: G
Word Count: 390
Pairing: Circlecest
Round/Fight: 4/A
Warnings:
Summary: Briar wasn’t one to state it aloud these days...[/b]
Notes: Love is generally not my subject, but here's my go.
Briar wasn’t one to state it aloud these days, but he had tripped into love and hit the snares at the bottom before. It hadn’t been meant to be. For all the gal’s wicked humour and cleverness, she had been brought up as nobility and intended to retain it to a degree that Sandry had never embraced. Briar still had his street-urchin heart; he couldn’t stomach refined nobility for long and certainly not for life with a lady.
Sandry, with all her stubborn noble streak, was not afraid to find dirt on her hands or mud in the fibre of her dress. She gave as good as she got and called Briar out where others might not. She spun them all together and never minded his few nettles. She would always be his Sandry.
Tris could be distant, could throw up all the walls she could build, and would still bond with him thick as thieves—and he knew that companionship in his blood. They were thicker than thieves. She had been the first girl he felt as a true companion (not a natter-brained silly frass-lass); he could tell she would always remain that. He thought of her any time he opened a book, which was a fairly regular occurrence these days. She would always be his Tris.
Daja was his companion in a way he had not comprehended in youth. He had had best mates on the street, those who knew his mind and did not judge him for it, but Daja went beyond that. They spent much time together when Sandry spent her days at the citadel and Tris at Lightsbridge or any of her various travels. He and Daja sat in silence or shared grins, laughed until it filled the room. He brought her out to taverns some evenings because he knew, high as her eyebrow arched, she secretly enjoyed it. She would always be his Daja.
He didn’t say it much—not in so many words—but he hoped they all felt it as strongly as he did. And, knowing they were in the magic that coursed through his heart with his blood, he thought they must. Briar loved them all more than life itself; they had brought him back from death just to love him more. That wasn’t the sort of think a lad forgot.
Rating: G
Word Count: 390
Pairing: Circlecest
Round/Fight: 4/A
Warnings:
Summary: Briar wasn’t one to state it aloud these days...[/b]
Notes: Love is generally not my subject, but here's my go.
Briar wasn’t one to state it aloud these days, but he had tripped into love and hit the snares at the bottom before. It hadn’t been meant to be. For all the gal’s wicked humour and cleverness, she had been brought up as nobility and intended to retain it to a degree that Sandry had never embraced. Briar still had his street-urchin heart; he couldn’t stomach refined nobility for long and certainly not for life with a lady.
Sandry, with all her stubborn noble streak, was not afraid to find dirt on her hands or mud in the fibre of her dress. She gave as good as she got and called Briar out where others might not. She spun them all together and never minded his few nettles. She would always be his Sandry.
Tris could be distant, could throw up all the walls she could build, and would still bond with him thick as thieves—and he knew that companionship in his blood. They were thicker than thieves. She had been the first girl he felt as a true companion (not a natter-brained silly frass-lass); he could tell she would always remain that. He thought of her any time he opened a book, which was a fairly regular occurrence these days. She would always be his Tris.
Daja was his companion in a way he had not comprehended in youth. He had had best mates on the street, those who knew his mind and did not judge him for it, but Daja went beyond that. They spent much time together when Sandry spent her days at the citadel and Tris at Lightsbridge or any of her various travels. He and Daja sat in silence or shared grins, laughed until it filled the room. He brought her out to taverns some evenings because he knew, high as her eyebrow arched, she secretly enjoyed it. She would always be his Daja.
He didn’t say it much—not in so many words—but he hoped they all felt it as strongly as he did. And, knowing they were in the magic that coursed through his heart with his blood, he thought they must. Briar loved them all more than life itself; they had brought him back from death just to love him more. That wasn’t the sort of think a lad forgot.