Post by Kit on Mar 10, 2011 23:58:00 GMT 10
Title: Delay [3]
Rating: G
Word Count: 255
Pairing: Lark/Rosethorn
Round/Fight: 1/B
Summary: Even Dedicate Crane can be unexpected.
Crane found her meditating beneath terracotta window boxes. His knees creaked as he bent to join her, but she was woven so neatly into her own pulse that she failed to notice. The grass would stain, but it was easy to slide his own breathing beneath hers, to catch her rhythm and hold it delicately until they were both ready to speak.
When she did, it was simply his name, and a smile.
“The recluse managed to convey you were outside,” he told her, not quite smiling back. “And you appear to have something small and dangerous taking over the ground floor.”
“Glaki is Tris’s.”
“I didn’t think Trisana quite so precocious.”
He did not pull away when she let her hand fall to his knee. “She’s a good girl.”
“And you are deeply unhappy.”
“You’re not?”
Crane smiled. “Lark,” he said tonelessly. “I am used to it.”
“Such drama.”
Crane looked at the slim brown hand resting palm up on his knee. Shaking his head, he traced a Gods Circle there, small and private.
“I know that you have always been better at sharing than I, but in this instance...”
“You were always a nice young man, really.” Lark let her hand close around his.
Crane snorted, flushing. “And you are a witch. But I think I may be some use in brightening up this place until the right ship comes in.”
“Rosethorn never did teach me what to do with seedlings.”
“More fool her,” said the Air Dedicate, pulling Lark to her feet.
QC by: journeycat
Rating: G
Word Count: 255
Pairing: Lark/Rosethorn
Round/Fight: 1/B
Summary: Even Dedicate Crane can be unexpected.
Crane found her meditating beneath terracotta window boxes. His knees creaked as he bent to join her, but she was woven so neatly into her own pulse that she failed to notice. The grass would stain, but it was easy to slide his own breathing beneath hers, to catch her rhythm and hold it delicately until they were both ready to speak.
When she did, it was simply his name, and a smile.
“The recluse managed to convey you were outside,” he told her, not quite smiling back. “And you appear to have something small and dangerous taking over the ground floor.”
“Glaki is Tris’s.”
“I didn’t think Trisana quite so precocious.”
He did not pull away when she let her hand fall to his knee. “She’s a good girl.”
“And you are deeply unhappy.”
“You’re not?”
Crane smiled. “Lark,” he said tonelessly. “I am used to it.”
“Such drama.”
Crane looked at the slim brown hand resting palm up on his knee. Shaking his head, he traced a Gods Circle there, small and private.
“I know that you have always been better at sharing than I, but in this instance...”
“You were always a nice young man, really.” Lark let her hand close around his.
Crane snorted, flushing. “And you are a witch. But I think I may be some use in brightening up this place until the right ship comes in.”
“Rosethorn never did teach me what to do with seedlings.”
“More fool her,” said the Air Dedicate, pulling Lark to her feet.
QC by: journeycat