Post by Deleted on Apr 3, 2011 6:02:15 GMT 10
Title: Thyme
Rating: PG
Word Count: 400
Pairing: Crane/Rosethorn
Round/Fight: 1/F
Summary: Thyme: activity, bravery, courage, strength. The hardest thing in the world is to reconcile, but in some ways it is also the easiest. Rosethorn's Garden #5
Rosethorn gathered her courage and visited his greenhouse, the day Lark deemed her well enough to leave her tender care. (Her lover, Rosethorn had discovered, could be absolutely terrifying when she wanted.)
Crane poured tea into cups of celestial blue, a strange emotion in his eyes that made Rosethorn uncomfortable. It looked like concern, maybe even like affection. Rosethorn couldn't abide affection from him.
"Stop looking at me like that," she snapped.
Crane sniffed. "As difficult as it is to believe, I cannot find anything wrong with being grateful you are alive."
Rosethorn swallowed, and she wanted to speak, but her numb tongue would not move. What could she say? Even if Crane would have believed her, she was banned from speaking of her hours in death. How could she phrase what she wanted to tell him?
Tea scalded her throat. Rosethorn choked.
"I was led to believe you were completely recovered," Crane drawled, setting down the teapot.
"I am," Rosethorn said sharply, glaring at him. "If you're implying that I stay shut up like an invalid -- " She broke off. "What's so funny?"
"Lark has always brought out your best side. If she couldn't do it," Crane told her, "I will not make a futile attempt."
Oh.
Well.
"You would think that, wouldn't you?" she said, unsurprised, reaching across his decorative mahogany table to take his elegant hand in her palms.
"You've given me no cause to think otherwise," Crane said slowly, stroking the back of her hand. "And," he admitted, "I was so angry. So rash. I gave you no reason to regret your choice."
"Too right you didn't," Rosethorn muttered, closing her hand over his cheek. She saw him take in a slow, shuddering breath.
"Your method of announcing it was unnecessarily blunt," Crane said.
"You needed it," argued Rosethorn. "It was like you couldn't stop looking down your nose at me long enough to get it into your head that I was, that Lark and I could -- "
"And still do?"
"Yes," Rosethorn said, immediately. She would make that particular fact clear. "But if the Blue Pox, and" -- death -- "pneumonia gave me one gift, it was perspective. For my life. For this."
Somehow, they had ended up sitting next to each other, and even after so long, they just fit. They sipped tea, spoke of disease, and Rosethorn didn't dwell on memories.
QC by PeroxidePirate
Rating: PG
Word Count: 400
Pairing: Crane/Rosethorn
Round/Fight: 1/F
Summary: Thyme: activity, bravery, courage, strength. The hardest thing in the world is to reconcile, but in some ways it is also the easiest. Rosethorn's Garden #5
Rosethorn gathered her courage and visited his greenhouse, the day Lark deemed her well enough to leave her tender care. (Her lover, Rosethorn had discovered, could be absolutely terrifying when she wanted.)
Crane poured tea into cups of celestial blue, a strange emotion in his eyes that made Rosethorn uncomfortable. It looked like concern, maybe even like affection. Rosethorn couldn't abide affection from him.
"Stop looking at me like that," she snapped.
Crane sniffed. "As difficult as it is to believe, I cannot find anything wrong with being grateful you are alive."
Rosethorn swallowed, and she wanted to speak, but her numb tongue would not move. What could she say? Even if Crane would have believed her, she was banned from speaking of her hours in death. How could she phrase what she wanted to tell him?
Tea scalded her throat. Rosethorn choked.
"I was led to believe you were completely recovered," Crane drawled, setting down the teapot.
"I am," Rosethorn said sharply, glaring at him. "If you're implying that I stay shut up like an invalid -- " She broke off. "What's so funny?"
"Lark has always brought out your best side. If she couldn't do it," Crane told her, "I will not make a futile attempt."
Oh.
Well.
"You would think that, wouldn't you?" she said, unsurprised, reaching across his decorative mahogany table to take his elegant hand in her palms.
"You've given me no cause to think otherwise," Crane said slowly, stroking the back of her hand. "And," he admitted, "I was so angry. So rash. I gave you no reason to regret your choice."
"Too right you didn't," Rosethorn muttered, closing her hand over his cheek. She saw him take in a slow, shuddering breath.
"Your method of announcing it was unnecessarily blunt," Crane said.
"You needed it," argued Rosethorn. "It was like you couldn't stop looking down your nose at me long enough to get it into your head that I was, that Lark and I could -- "
"And still do?"
"Yes," Rosethorn said, immediately. She would make that particular fact clear. "But if the Blue Pox, and" -- death -- "pneumonia gave me one gift, it was perspective. For my life. For this."
Somehow, they had ended up sitting next to each other, and even after so long, they just fit. They sipped tea, spoke of disease, and Rosethorn didn't dwell on memories.
QC by PeroxidePirate
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!