Post by Carbon Kiwi on May 29, 2011 7:34:00 GMT 10
Title: Enchanted [5]
Rating: G
Word Count: 271
Pairing: Circlecest
Round/Fight: 4/A
Warnings:
Summary: “Why are you avoiding my question?”
Notes: Fluffy things make me happy sometimes.
“AH!” Sandry gasped as she pulled the curtain back on their bathing basin. “Jowan, what are you doing in the bath?”
He held a book up at eye level, hiding all but his auburn hair. Sandry pushed the book down to catch a glimpse of his peevish blue eyes.
“I’m reading,” he clarified. “Or I was.”
“That’s not the part I question,” Sandry replied without missing a beat. “My question concerns why you are doing it in the bath.”
“Why are you taking a bath here, when there are possibly hundreds available for you at the citadel?” he fired back, eyebrows rising.
“Why are you avoiding my question?”
“Why are you avoiding mine?”
They locked eyes. One of Sandry’s eyebrows raised; Jowan was stuck with both, for he hadn’t mastered the eyebrow trick yet. He’d learn soon enough, with Tris as a mother. Still, he knew he couldn’t out-stubborn Sandry: he had once over-heard his mother compare her to a mule. Unflattering, he thought, to the future Duchess of Emelan, but quite possibly true.
“Briar has some frilly woman in the study, Tris is cleaning the lounge and Daja has forbidden me from the kitchen since I accidentally froze her lunch.”
Jowan had expected many things at his answer: scolding, further eyebrow-raising, being bodily pulled from the basin by his ear and a number of other options.
He did not expect Sandry to laugh hard enough to nearly hit her forehead on the edge of the bath.
“It isn’t funny,” he insisted.
His forehead creased at the resulting ‘thwang’. Sandry’s head had hit the bath. Her skull had to be dense!
Rating: G
Word Count: 271
Pairing: Circlecest
Round/Fight: 4/A
Warnings:
Summary: “Why are you avoiding my question?”
Notes: Fluffy things make me happy sometimes.
“AH!” Sandry gasped as she pulled the curtain back on their bathing basin. “Jowan, what are you doing in the bath?”
He held a book up at eye level, hiding all but his auburn hair. Sandry pushed the book down to catch a glimpse of his peevish blue eyes.
“I’m reading,” he clarified. “Or I was.”
“That’s not the part I question,” Sandry replied without missing a beat. “My question concerns why you are doing it in the bath.”
“Why are you taking a bath here, when there are possibly hundreds available for you at the citadel?” he fired back, eyebrows rising.
“Why are you avoiding my question?”
“Why are you avoiding mine?”
They locked eyes. One of Sandry’s eyebrows raised; Jowan was stuck with both, for he hadn’t mastered the eyebrow trick yet. He’d learn soon enough, with Tris as a mother. Still, he knew he couldn’t out-stubborn Sandry: he had once over-heard his mother compare her to a mule. Unflattering, he thought, to the future Duchess of Emelan, but quite possibly true.
“Briar has some frilly woman in the study, Tris is cleaning the lounge and Daja has forbidden me from the kitchen since I accidentally froze her lunch.”
Jowan had expected many things at his answer: scolding, further eyebrow-raising, being bodily pulled from the basin by his ear and a number of other options.
He did not expect Sandry to laugh hard enough to nearly hit her forehead on the edge of the bath.
“It isn’t funny,” he insisted.
His forehead creased at the resulting ‘thwang’. Sandry’s head had hit the bath. Her skull had to be dense!