Post by infinite on Apr 28, 2011 20:53:24 GMT 10
Title: Stowaway
Rating: G
Word Count: 468
Pairing: Gary/Raoul – Team Moustache Curtains
Round/Fight: 2/C
Summary: Raoul flees to the desert, but really, there’s no escape.
Raoul came to the desert to clarify many things he couldn’t explain to himself in the city. Corus was full of distractions and riddles. It was like a shook up jigsaw puzzle, fragmented and jumbled, with clashing colours and polished pieces that didn’t fit together properly. The desert seemed more whole, its sparseness calming; its broad, still vistas conducive to soothing clarity. Or so Raoul had thought, before he was forced to concede, once he had established himself among the people of the desert, that he seemed to have brought his puzzles with him, as do many people entertain themselves with chess or cards on the road. Unfortunately, Raoul didn’t particularly enjoy puzzles of the mind, or of the heart.
In Corus, his problems were in your face; here, they had snuck in and attacked him from the inside. Mostly, it was Gary (wasn’t it always Gary?). Court parties, pomp and ceremony, boys who turned out to be girls, regicidal wizards, had all seemed to fade in importance given time to think and a few hundred miles of distance. The latter two had taken a while, but he had come to a kind of peace, or at least a likeness of peace not to be tested until he met Alanna again. But Gary. His constant nagging presence in Raoul's head eroded the feeble pretence of indifference. What a nuisance that man was! The echo of him held within Raoul’s memory seemed to reverberate louder as time passed, just as the corporeal Gary would ask a question louder and more insistently until Raoul gave in and answered, infuriated as Gary foiled his right to privacy or secrecy.
In some ways, the desert was a separate world from the Tortall Raoul knew, just like the Divine Realms, and that of the dead, were separate from the world of the living. Yet, Gary had transgressed the distance to follow him, trespassing in Raoul’s heart, where, frankly, he wasn’t wanted. Raoul thought that, had he fled not south to the desert, but south with the Black God, Gary would have followed him there too, as punishment for the offences Raoul had committed throughout his life. Raoul had tried to come to the desert alone. He had hoped to learn a different way of life, encourage peace between two nations awkwardly united, pick up some fighting techniques, clear his head and get a healthy tan. Most of all though, his intention had been to escape. But, as he became a Bazhir, he found that his Tortallan self had stolen back north to the palace and curled up under Gary’s pillow, just as a part of Gary had stowed away in his own heart, impossible to ignore. After months of this, a defeated Raoul was forced to admit that he may very well be in love. This was troubling, indeed.
QC by: journeycat
Rating: G
Word Count: 468
Pairing: Gary/Raoul – Team Moustache Curtains
Round/Fight: 2/C
Summary: Raoul flees to the desert, but really, there’s no escape.
Raoul came to the desert to clarify many things he couldn’t explain to himself in the city. Corus was full of distractions and riddles. It was like a shook up jigsaw puzzle, fragmented and jumbled, with clashing colours and polished pieces that didn’t fit together properly. The desert seemed more whole, its sparseness calming; its broad, still vistas conducive to soothing clarity. Or so Raoul had thought, before he was forced to concede, once he had established himself among the people of the desert, that he seemed to have brought his puzzles with him, as do many people entertain themselves with chess or cards on the road. Unfortunately, Raoul didn’t particularly enjoy puzzles of the mind, or of the heart.
In Corus, his problems were in your face; here, they had snuck in and attacked him from the inside. Mostly, it was Gary (wasn’t it always Gary?). Court parties, pomp and ceremony, boys who turned out to be girls, regicidal wizards, had all seemed to fade in importance given time to think and a few hundred miles of distance. The latter two had taken a while, but he had come to a kind of peace, or at least a likeness of peace not to be tested until he met Alanna again. But Gary. His constant nagging presence in Raoul's head eroded the feeble pretence of indifference. What a nuisance that man was! The echo of him held within Raoul’s memory seemed to reverberate louder as time passed, just as the corporeal Gary would ask a question louder and more insistently until Raoul gave in and answered, infuriated as Gary foiled his right to privacy or secrecy.
In some ways, the desert was a separate world from the Tortall Raoul knew, just like the Divine Realms, and that of the dead, were separate from the world of the living. Yet, Gary had transgressed the distance to follow him, trespassing in Raoul’s heart, where, frankly, he wasn’t wanted. Raoul thought that, had he fled not south to the desert, but south with the Black God, Gary would have followed him there too, as punishment for the offences Raoul had committed throughout his life. Raoul had tried to come to the desert alone. He had hoped to learn a different way of life, encourage peace between two nations awkwardly united, pick up some fighting techniques, clear his head and get a healthy tan. Most of all though, his intention had been to escape. But, as he became a Bazhir, he found that his Tortallan self had stolen back north to the palace and curled up under Gary’s pillow, just as a part of Gary had stowed away in his own heart, impossible to ignore. After months of this, a defeated Raoul was forced to admit that he may very well be in love. This was troubling, indeed.
QC by: journeycat