Post by sidonie on Apr 3, 2011 4:20:09 GMT 10
Title: Missive
Rating: PG (mentions of wartime violence)
Word Count: 537
Pairing: Gary/Raoul – Team Moustache Curtains
Round/Fight: 1/E
Summary: During the Immortals War, Raoul receives a letter.
Author's Note: Will maybe eventually be a series if I get the time to do continuity research.
~~~~~~
As Raoul nursed his arm, biting his lip to keep from crying out, a courier burst into his tent. “Message from Corus,” he gasped.
The knight rose. His joints creaked and a jolt of pain shot up his left side, but he gritted his jaw and bore it. He took the letter with a nod of thanks, not trusting his speaking voice, and tossed the boy a copper noble.
It took him a few minutes to maneuver to his desk and sit, let alone open the missive. Turning the letter over, he saw the seal and grinned. Naxen. He fumbled with it, his hands raw and bruised, turning the air blue with curses. In war, there was no time to convalesce and heal, and so the most minor of injuries stacked up until one could barely perform the simplest of actions. He hated it, almost as much as he hated burning the dead or mourning friends and comrades or the way the feeling of slicing flesh and bone lingered long after the battle was done.
When he finally unfolded the paper (irregular and blotched, because all supplies needed to be conserved), he saw Gary's crisp, spiky handwriting. He smiled slightly, glad it wasn't the practiced flourishes of a court scribe. He rubbed his eyes to clear them of sweat and dirt and began to read.
Dear Raoul,
I hope this letter finds you well (or at least as well as anyone can be in these circumstances). We in the capitol seem to be spared the worst by your efforts elsewhere, but we still endure daily Stormwing raids. I have nearly grown accustomed to the shock of the fear they spread in my daily business, and that is almost more terrifying to me than the creatures we face. I can't imagine what it is like for you on the front lines, and often wish I could abandon my desk and join you.
We have received word of a large group of hurroks approaching Port Caynn, and Jon has requested—in that kingly way that means ordered—your presence there. Do be careful; Lord Wyldon of Cavall recently ran afoul of one and nearly got his arm torn off, and you know how formidable he is.
I hope you aren't taking any stupid risks. We've heard rumors of giants in your area, and you are not to engage one without backup. I've heard horror stories of them destroying entire squads. And don't even try to deny you go out alone; your men are more than happy to report your activities to me, and they say that despite their protestations you have a habit of facing immortals by yourself, which sounds like a wonderful plan if you want to meet the Black God face-to-face. Please, Raoul, you are the Commander of the Own. Do I need to remind you how important your leadership is to this war? We need you alive. I need you alive. I need you here, in Corus, in one piece, after this madness has ended.
If you get yourself killed, I shall be most displeased. May the gods be with you and be successful in stopping you from acting like an idiot.
With all my affection,
Gary
QC: by Cassandra
Rating: PG (mentions of wartime violence)
Word Count: 537
Pairing: Gary/Raoul – Team Moustache Curtains
Round/Fight: 1/E
Summary: During the Immortals War, Raoul receives a letter.
Author's Note: Will maybe eventually be a series if I get the time to do continuity research.
~~~~~~
As Raoul nursed his arm, biting his lip to keep from crying out, a courier burst into his tent. “Message from Corus,” he gasped.
The knight rose. His joints creaked and a jolt of pain shot up his left side, but he gritted his jaw and bore it. He took the letter with a nod of thanks, not trusting his speaking voice, and tossed the boy a copper noble.
It took him a few minutes to maneuver to his desk and sit, let alone open the missive. Turning the letter over, he saw the seal and grinned. Naxen. He fumbled with it, his hands raw and bruised, turning the air blue with curses. In war, there was no time to convalesce and heal, and so the most minor of injuries stacked up until one could barely perform the simplest of actions. He hated it, almost as much as he hated burning the dead or mourning friends and comrades or the way the feeling of slicing flesh and bone lingered long after the battle was done.
When he finally unfolded the paper (irregular and blotched, because all supplies needed to be conserved), he saw Gary's crisp, spiky handwriting. He smiled slightly, glad it wasn't the practiced flourishes of a court scribe. He rubbed his eyes to clear them of sweat and dirt and began to read.
Dear Raoul,
I hope this letter finds you well (or at least as well as anyone can be in these circumstances). We in the capitol seem to be spared the worst by your efforts elsewhere, but we still endure daily Stormwing raids. I have nearly grown accustomed to the shock of the fear they spread in my daily business, and that is almost more terrifying to me than the creatures we face. I can't imagine what it is like for you on the front lines, and often wish I could abandon my desk and join you.
We have received word of a large group of hurroks approaching Port Caynn, and Jon has requested—in that kingly way that means ordered—your presence there. Do be careful; Lord Wyldon of Cavall recently ran afoul of one and nearly got his arm torn off, and you know how formidable he is.
I hope you aren't taking any stupid risks. We've heard rumors of giants in your area, and you are not to engage one without backup. I've heard horror stories of them destroying entire squads. And don't even try to deny you go out alone; your men are more than happy to report your activities to me, and they say that despite their protestations you have a habit of facing immortals by yourself, which sounds like a wonderful plan if you want to meet the Black God face-to-face. Please, Raoul, you are the Commander of the Own. Do I need to remind you how important your leadership is to this war? We need you alive. I need you alive. I need you here, in Corus, in one piece, after this madness has ended.
If you get yourself killed, I shall be most displeased. May the gods be with you and be successful in stopping you from acting like an idiot.
With all my affection,
Gary
QC: by Cassandra
