Post by Deleted on Apr 19, 2011 10:04:13 GMT 10
Title: The Ache of Missing
Rating: G
Word Count: 281
Pairing: Lark/Rosethorn
Round/Fight: 2B
Summary: Lark, in the minutes before she sees Rosethorn again.
The door slammed shut, and Lark raised her eyes from her embroidery to find her not-so-new apprentice, as he leaned bonelessly against it.
"Comas, what on earth...?"
It took him several moments to find the composure to reply, "They're outside the gates."
Of course.
She sighed, inwardly. She'd hoped that Comas was past this stage of sudden, overwhelming fright, but her current student was proving as difficult as his predecessors.
Then his words hit her. "Rosethorn's back?"
Almost imperceptibly, he nodded.
Her fingers tightened around the embroidery that was suddenly straining to get free. She had hoped... Rosethorn had said they would arrive that night, but Lark hadn't been able to think about it until then. The ache of missing would rise, if she thought about Rosethorn, and the other woman wasn't by her side, when her return was so tantalizingly close...
With patience that felt, to her, astounding, she turned her attention to Comas. The white pallor of his face seemed to gain a new clarity.
"I thought Sandry and I had convinced you she wouldn't hang you in the well," Lark said, putting her embroidery down and rising to walk to his side. What he needed, she thought, was time, and support, and not words: everything had already been said. But her nerves sang with impatience -- so difficult to curb, so difficult to hide.
Comas watched her, a fast, flickering series of emotions playing over his face. Abruptly, he stood straighter, and his voice trembled only a little.
"L-let's go," he said, knowing, in that instant, what Lark could bring out in others, and why Rosethorn had snapped at the other Dedicates in her urgency to arrive home.
QC by: journeycat
Rating: G
Word Count: 281
Pairing: Lark/Rosethorn
Round/Fight: 2B
Summary: Lark, in the minutes before she sees Rosethorn again.
The door slammed shut, and Lark raised her eyes from her embroidery to find her not-so-new apprentice, as he leaned bonelessly against it.
"Comas, what on earth...?"
It took him several moments to find the composure to reply, "They're outside the gates."
Of course.
She sighed, inwardly. She'd hoped that Comas was past this stage of sudden, overwhelming fright, but her current student was proving as difficult as his predecessors.
Then his words hit her. "Rosethorn's back?"
Almost imperceptibly, he nodded.
Her fingers tightened around the embroidery that was suddenly straining to get free. She had hoped... Rosethorn had said they would arrive that night, but Lark hadn't been able to think about it until then. The ache of missing would rise, if she thought about Rosethorn, and the other woman wasn't by her side, when her return was so tantalizingly close...
With patience that felt, to her, astounding, she turned her attention to Comas. The white pallor of his face seemed to gain a new clarity.
"I thought Sandry and I had convinced you she wouldn't hang you in the well," Lark said, putting her embroidery down and rising to walk to his side. What he needed, she thought, was time, and support, and not words: everything had already been said. But her nerves sang with impatience -- so difficult to curb, so difficult to hide.
Comas watched her, a fast, flickering series of emotions playing over his face. Abruptly, he stood straighter, and his voice trembled only a little.
"L-let's go," he said, knowing, in that instant, what Lark could bring out in others, and why Rosethorn had snapped at the other Dedicates in her urgency to arrive home.
QC by: journeycat