Post by Kit on Mar 16, 2011 15:16:46 GMT 10
Title: Foregn Travel [3]
Rating: PG
Word Count: 464
Pairing: Kalasin/Wyldon
Round/Fight: 1/C
Summary: Wyldon remembers--and forgets
“Have you ever travelled so far?”
The menagerie, as befit all kindly cages, was a cool sanctuary in the day's heat. Kalasin, refusing to choose one realm, one collection of animals, lead him along in-between paths, while ladies panted behind and the trees rustled with unseen bodies as much as with wind. Lush growth, there. Dense greens and leaves bigger than a man's head; mosses and grasses that drank in water from air. There was a tangled vivacity about the place that Wyldon found both compelling and repulsive. Such was the place where the gate to the Immortal Realms had been opened.
“All Tortall, of course.”
Kalasin grinned over one shoulder at him, dusk blue veils blending with the plant shadows on her face. “Of course.”
“And Tusaine,” he said, slowly. “When I first courted my wife.”
“Lady Vivenne.” The Empress said the name slowly, wistful and curious. “Another woman who as unafraid to interrupt you.”
Wyldon tried to smother the laugh in his throat. “There are stories?”
“I saw the two of you fight, once.” Kalasin shrugged ruefully. “You were trying to do too much with your arm, and she didn't quite chase you down the hall. I thought she was very fierce for it.”
The air was too close. If he could not have Cavall, then the Drell would be almost good enough. The light, crisp strangeness of a new shore and uncertain welcome, when he had had the youth to bear it. Then, strangeness had been muted by hope, by the best wine he had ever tasted, by Vivenne laughing at the centre of a mottled, happy, tangled skirl of dogs, not quite aware of him.
Now, the air was cluttered with raucous cries and flashes of too-bright wing, and Kalasin— Kally, the eavesdropping princess with a bow too big for her back; Her Imperial Majesty, who graced coins and kept a notebook of all the court creatures in case they wronged her— stood in the midst of something Wyldon could not understand, and her hair was as dark and prone to snarls as Vivenne's had ever been.
His eyes left her. “She was as you say,” he said to the earth between them. “And she passed it onto my daughters.” He paused, but did not try to hide this smile, looking up to catch the wide, blue eyes.
Kalasin stilled. Wyldon did not touch her, but as he continued to meet her eyes he watched her chin lift as if he had tilted it up in his hand. Something darkened to lost in her eyes, and her mouth shifted from vulnerable to tight.
“My own children,” she said, “Are being taught never to interrupt me.”
QC by: jazzyjess
Rating: PG
Word Count: 464
Pairing: Kalasin/Wyldon
Round/Fight: 1/C
Summary: Wyldon remembers--and forgets
“Have you ever travelled so far?”
The menagerie, as befit all kindly cages, was a cool sanctuary in the day's heat. Kalasin, refusing to choose one realm, one collection of animals, lead him along in-between paths, while ladies panted behind and the trees rustled with unseen bodies as much as with wind. Lush growth, there. Dense greens and leaves bigger than a man's head; mosses and grasses that drank in water from air. There was a tangled vivacity about the place that Wyldon found both compelling and repulsive. Such was the place where the gate to the Immortal Realms had been opened.
“All Tortall, of course.”
Kalasin grinned over one shoulder at him, dusk blue veils blending with the plant shadows on her face. “Of course.”
“And Tusaine,” he said, slowly. “When I first courted my wife.”
“Lady Vivenne.” The Empress said the name slowly, wistful and curious. “Another woman who as unafraid to interrupt you.”
Wyldon tried to smother the laugh in his throat. “There are stories?”
“I saw the two of you fight, once.” Kalasin shrugged ruefully. “You were trying to do too much with your arm, and she didn't quite chase you down the hall. I thought she was very fierce for it.”
The air was too close. If he could not have Cavall, then the Drell would be almost good enough. The light, crisp strangeness of a new shore and uncertain welcome, when he had had the youth to bear it. Then, strangeness had been muted by hope, by the best wine he had ever tasted, by Vivenne laughing at the centre of a mottled, happy, tangled skirl of dogs, not quite aware of him.
Now, the air was cluttered with raucous cries and flashes of too-bright wing, and Kalasin— Kally, the eavesdropping princess with a bow too big for her back; Her Imperial Majesty, who graced coins and kept a notebook of all the court creatures in case they wronged her— stood in the midst of something Wyldon could not understand, and her hair was as dark and prone to snarls as Vivenne's had ever been.
His eyes left her. “She was as you say,” he said to the earth between them. “And she passed it onto my daughters.” He paused, but did not try to hide this smile, looking up to catch the wide, blue eyes.
Kalasin stilled. Wyldon did not touch her, but as he continued to meet her eyes he watched her chin lift as if he had tilted it up in his hand. Something darkened to lost in her eyes, and her mouth shifted from vulnerable to tight.
“My own children,” she said, “Are being taught never to interrupt me.”
QC by: jazzyjess