Post by Deleted on Apr 2, 2011 8:50:56 GMT 10
Title: Peace
Rating: G
Word Count: 232
Pairing: Crane/Rosethorn
Round/Fight: 1/F
Summary: Rosethorn and Crane find peace in very different ways.
Rosethorn is at peace when she tends her garden. She hums, patiently digging and weeding and reshaping. The sun crawls across the otherwise motionless sky, but she doesn't notice. She sees nothing but a sea of green: dark leaves smooth and waxy, delicate shoots creeping towards the light, pale new growth unfurling like a baby Shriek exploring his nest. All the calm acceptance she cannot shape among humans flows into her plants, and they rejoice in it. Rosethorn's garden blooms because she does.
Crane is at peace when teaching. His drawl washes over his competent students. Their attentive faces are a sort of acceptance surpassed only by his plants, which thrive in the humidity of his greenhouse. As he lectures, his frustrations seep away until only knowledge, and the passing of it, remain. Listening, his students soak it up like bean runners in the sun, and begin to understand how the condescending man they resented became a legend.
When Crane and Rosethorn cross paths, the results tend to be explosive -- snapping, arguing, maybe a little attempted maiming, and the bluntest, least veiled slights to ever to turn Winding Circle's two greatest green mages into bickering adolescents. No one would argue that they are at peace.
But occasionally -- nothing close to always, but sometimes -- if you look closely, you would swear Crane and Rosethorn part ways with small, secret smiles.
QC by: journeycat
Rating: G
Word Count: 232
Pairing: Crane/Rosethorn
Round/Fight: 1/F
Summary: Rosethorn and Crane find peace in very different ways.
Rosethorn is at peace when she tends her garden. She hums, patiently digging and weeding and reshaping. The sun crawls across the otherwise motionless sky, but she doesn't notice. She sees nothing but a sea of green: dark leaves smooth and waxy, delicate shoots creeping towards the light, pale new growth unfurling like a baby Shriek exploring his nest. All the calm acceptance she cannot shape among humans flows into her plants, and they rejoice in it. Rosethorn's garden blooms because she does.
Crane is at peace when teaching. His drawl washes over his competent students. Their attentive faces are a sort of acceptance surpassed only by his plants, which thrive in the humidity of his greenhouse. As he lectures, his frustrations seep away until only knowledge, and the passing of it, remain. Listening, his students soak it up like bean runners in the sun, and begin to understand how the condescending man they resented became a legend.
When Crane and Rosethorn cross paths, the results tend to be explosive -- snapping, arguing, maybe a little attempted maiming, and the bluntest, least veiled slights to ever to turn Winding Circle's two greatest green mages into bickering adolescents. No one would argue that they are at peace.
But occasionally -- nothing close to always, but sometimes -- if you look closely, you would swear Crane and Rosethorn part ways with small, secret smiles.
QC by: journeycat
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!