Post by sidonie on Jul 2, 2011 14:07:30 GMT 10
Title: Confessions
Rating: PG-13
Couple/Character: Roald/Zahir
Event: Humor high jump
Words: 615
Summary: Zahir decides Roald needs to let his hair down. Predictably, this does not go as planned.
Warning: Rated for some peer pressure, alcohol, and general slashiness.
A/N: This somehow decided it wanted to be a dialogue-only fic. It's not a format I work in much, so I hope it's acceptable.
~~~~~~
“Come on, you'll enjoy it!”
“That's not the point, Zahir.”
“It absolutely is. Unless you're too frightened?”
“Oh, we're being childish now. Wonderful.”
“You're avoiding the subject.”
“That's because it's no longer up for discussion! There are too many risks involved. It's reckless, it's silly, and I will not be a part of it.”
“If you do this for me, I will groom your horse, clean your armor, and polish your sword for a month.”
“No—wait, what? Really?”
“Well, if I'm being honest, I'm banking on you not remembering most of tonight come morning, but if you do manage to recall this conversation, I will hold to my word.”
“I don't know—”
“It'll be fun! We'll go to the Dancing Dove, Marek will make sure no one notices us, and you can get properly drunk for once in your life and forget about obligation and court stuffiness and those boring agricultural reports you have to read.”
“Hey, those are very important—”
“To the continuing health of the realm, I know. Listen, even Jon still goes to the Dove, and he's the king. Are you honestly duller than your father? Because that would be a feat.”
“I—you—Mithros. All right, fine, I'll go with you. But I'll have no more than one drink. Understood?”
~~~
“And another for my friend!”
“Are you sure you should do that? You've had three already, and it's not like you're used to—”
“Am too.”
“Oh, now who's being childish?”
“'S not the point. Point is . . . point is . . . fish. No, wait, fish was dinner last night. Oh, right! Point is I drink wine all the time, so there.”
“With family, at meals. This is a bit different, Roald, and you should probably be more careful.”
“I don't need to be careful. 'M the prince, people are careful for me. You're careful for me.”
“Mithros, Mynoss, and Shakith, in what hell am I stuck being the responsible one?”
“I kissed a Rider girl once, but she was careful too . . .”
“You know, if you weren't normally such a prude I'd be enjoying this.”
“The flower girls are mostly pretty. They have pretty . . . corset . . . things. Think they'd have me?”
“You're wealthy, single, handsome nobility, and the first is the only one that much applies, so I'd say yes.”
“Have you seen Meli? She's the most beautiful. Not as beautiful as you, though.”
“Yes, I—wait, what? What was that?”
“I mean, she's nice, got nice breasts and lips and things, but she's not all quick and smart and big dark eyes you could just drown in, you know?”
“I—you—”
“And I bet she couldn't handle a sword at all, and that's the most beautiful part, isn't it? All that steel like lightning and dancing and poetry.”
“Roald, you're drunk, you're confused—”
“Am not. You're really lovely, you should know that. Because you don't think enough of yourself, you're always letting those damned pox-ridden courtiers get to you when they say cruel things about you and your people, but the truth is you're bright and nearly perfect with a sword and you're really really beautiful, especially when you're happy.”
“I . . . you think so? Truly?”
“If you weren't, I wouldn't be in love with you.”
“I—I don't know what to—Roald, you're getting a bit close there, are you sure—mmmph!”
. . .
. . .
. . .
“Oh.”
. . .
“Oh.”
Rating: PG-13
Couple/Character: Roald/Zahir
Event: Humor high jump
Words: 615
Summary: Zahir decides Roald needs to let his hair down. Predictably, this does not go as planned.
Warning: Rated for some peer pressure, alcohol, and general slashiness.
A/N: This somehow decided it wanted to be a dialogue-only fic. It's not a format I work in much, so I hope it's acceptable.
~~~~~~
“Come on, you'll enjoy it!”
“That's not the point, Zahir.”
“It absolutely is. Unless you're too frightened?”
“Oh, we're being childish now. Wonderful.”
“You're avoiding the subject.”
“That's because it's no longer up for discussion! There are too many risks involved. It's reckless, it's silly, and I will not be a part of it.”
“If you do this for me, I will groom your horse, clean your armor, and polish your sword for a month.”
“No—wait, what? Really?”
“Well, if I'm being honest, I'm banking on you not remembering most of tonight come morning, but if you do manage to recall this conversation, I will hold to my word.”
“I don't know—”
“It'll be fun! We'll go to the Dancing Dove, Marek will make sure no one notices us, and you can get properly drunk for once in your life and forget about obligation and court stuffiness and those boring agricultural reports you have to read.”
“Hey, those are very important—”
“To the continuing health of the realm, I know. Listen, even Jon still goes to the Dove, and he's the king. Are you honestly duller than your father? Because that would be a feat.”
“I—you—Mithros. All right, fine, I'll go with you. But I'll have no more than one drink. Understood?”
~~~
“And another for my friend!”
“Are you sure you should do that? You've had three already, and it's not like you're used to—”
“Am too.”
“Oh, now who's being childish?”
“'S not the point. Point is . . . point is . . . fish. No, wait, fish was dinner last night. Oh, right! Point is I drink wine all the time, so there.”
“With family, at meals. This is a bit different, Roald, and you should probably be more careful.”
“I don't need to be careful. 'M the prince, people are careful for me. You're careful for me.”
“Mithros, Mynoss, and Shakith, in what hell am I stuck being the responsible one?”
“I kissed a Rider girl once, but she was careful too . . .”
“You know, if you weren't normally such a prude I'd be enjoying this.”
“The flower girls are mostly pretty. They have pretty . . . corset . . . things. Think they'd have me?”
“You're wealthy, single, handsome nobility, and the first is the only one that much applies, so I'd say yes.”
“Have you seen Meli? She's the most beautiful. Not as beautiful as you, though.”
“Yes, I—wait, what? What was that?”
“I mean, she's nice, got nice breasts and lips and things, but she's not all quick and smart and big dark eyes you could just drown in, you know?”
“I—you—”
“And I bet she couldn't handle a sword at all, and that's the most beautiful part, isn't it? All that steel like lightning and dancing and poetry.”
“Roald, you're drunk, you're confused—”
“Am not. You're really lovely, you should know that. Because you don't think enough of yourself, you're always letting those damned pox-ridden courtiers get to you when they say cruel things about you and your people, but the truth is you're bright and nearly perfect with a sword and you're really really beautiful, especially when you're happy.”
“I . . . you think so? Truly?”
“If you weren't, I wouldn't be in love with you.”
“I—I don't know what to—Roald, you're getting a bit close there, are you sure—mmmph!”
. . .
. . .
. . .
“Oh.”
. . .
“Oh.”