Post by Carbon Kiwi on May 29, 2011 7:34:50 GMT 10
Title: Enchanted [6]
Rating: G
Word Count: 270
Pairing: Circlecest
Round/Fight: 4/A
Warnings:
Summary: “How did you guess?”
Notes: Fluffy things make me happy sometimes.
Briar could feel eyes on him; it was a skill—an imperative, inborn skill—of those who were born in and survived the streets. He could feel this gaze was not malicious. He also had a guess as to the owner.
“Nyarai?”
“How did you guess?” she called down. He heard feet landing hard against soft ground.
“It’s an old skill,” he answered. “And the others don’t climb as well as you.”
She gave a soft smile out of pride; he caught it in his peripheral. She sat beside him on his bench. “Daja, Sandry and Tris don’t notice the way you do.”
Briar turned. “You call your mother Daja?”
“She calls me Nya, my name, it only seems fair,” the girl responded. Her skin was only softly coloured and her hair was a fine brown, but she had some of her mother’s—one of her mother’s, in her case—mannerisms. “I respect Daja and Eulia.” She looked at him squarely, eyebrows drawing together some. At last she smiled. “You had two mothers as well: wasn’t it easier with two separate names respectfully used, than two titles?”
Briar laughed. “You’re somethin’ else, I’ll give you that.”
“Tris told me the same. She wants me to start reading thick books. How did she get you to do that?”
“She had to teach me to read first.”
“Wow.” Nya sat forward, head on her table-propped hands. “You all were close.”
Briar grinned. “But we bickered as much as you lot did.”
When the girl grinned, it was all Daja. “Can you teach me to sense the way you do?”
“I can try."
Rating: G
Word Count: 270
Pairing: Circlecest
Round/Fight: 4/A
Warnings:
Summary: “How did you guess?”
Notes: Fluffy things make me happy sometimes.
Briar could feel eyes on him; it was a skill—an imperative, inborn skill—of those who were born in and survived the streets. He could feel this gaze was not malicious. He also had a guess as to the owner.
“Nyarai?”
“How did you guess?” she called down. He heard feet landing hard against soft ground.
“It’s an old skill,” he answered. “And the others don’t climb as well as you.”
She gave a soft smile out of pride; he caught it in his peripheral. She sat beside him on his bench. “Daja, Sandry and Tris don’t notice the way you do.”
Briar turned. “You call your mother Daja?”
“She calls me Nya, my name, it only seems fair,” the girl responded. Her skin was only softly coloured and her hair was a fine brown, but she had some of her mother’s—one of her mother’s, in her case—mannerisms. “I respect Daja and Eulia.” She looked at him squarely, eyebrows drawing together some. At last she smiled. “You had two mothers as well: wasn’t it easier with two separate names respectfully used, than two titles?”
Briar laughed. “You’re somethin’ else, I’ll give you that.”
“Tris told me the same. She wants me to start reading thick books. How did she get you to do that?”
“She had to teach me to read first.”
“Wow.” Nya sat forward, head on her table-propped hands. “You all were close.”
Briar grinned. “But we bickered as much as you lot did.”
When the girl grinned, it was all Daja. “Can you teach me to sense the way you do?”
“I can try."