Post by wordy on Jan 11, 2012 18:22:35 GMT 10
Title: Start A War
Rating: PG
Word Count: 565
Summary: History never happens the same way twice.
Notes: I suppose it might be helpful to have read Tammy’s short story Nawat, but all you really need to know is that Ochobai is one of Aly and Nawat’s children.
George lowered the document he had been perusing and let his eyes fall on his granddaughter where she paused in the doorway. After a moment’s hesitation, she came in; he watched her rolling gait as she crossed the room and pulled a chair up next to him. He raised an eyebrow in question. “Yes, my darling girl?”
Ochobai smiled. If anything, it made him more nervous. “I heard your new assistant was found.”
“Found? Oh yes.” The poor lad had finally turned up face down in a creek, just south of the Scanran border. George could still recall the pattern of the boy’s freckles. He had been too enthusiastic, but that didn’t mean he had deserved to die. George eyed his granddaughter, suspicious. “And where exactly did you hear such nasty news?”
“Uncle Thom.”
Of course. His son was fond of children, but not so fond of them underfoot; Thom would probably have told Ochobai anything to get her to leave him alone. George shook his head. This family was well and truly out of control.
“How old were you when you became the Rogue?” asked his granddaughter.
George blinked, a little startled by the sudden change in conversation. At sixteen, Ochobai reminded him unnervingly of her mother. “Old enough,” he lied. “Where—”
“Because word in the Lower City is that Harrison was walking out with a flowerseller and she got him in the gut,” Ochobai breathed out in a rush.
“Where did you hear that?” he asked. His chest felt tight; was he old enough to be having a stroke? Shaking his head to try and clear it, he pinned her with a look. “Please tell me you’re not sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong; your mother would have a fit.” He was having a fit, though it would do no good to let his granddaughter know that.
“Corus is exactly where my nose belongs,” she said, unable to keep the defensiveness from her tone.
Though she was unfailingly direct when she wanted to be and vague at the best of times, he was afraid that he was beginning to understand what she was getting at. He covered his eyes with his hand and prayed that he was wrong. “I don’t think I want to hear this.”
“It seems like this place could do with a new Rogue.”
“Now I’m sure I don’t want to hear this,” George groaned.
“Grandda.” It wasn’t a whine, but it was close enough. George sighed and took his hand away to survey Ochobai: her face was set, her mouth a stubborn line that he was all too familiar with; despite the short, crow-black hair, those hazel eyes were completely Cooper. He should have known that one of Aly’s children would grow up to be trouble.
The last time he had said no, his only daughter had ended up kidnapped off the coast and in the clutches of a god. Ochobai always tried harder than her siblings to make up for her short stature, but he still couldn’t help worrying.
“What do you want me to say?” he asked.
“That you trust me enough not to get myself killed. That I won’t get dragged up before the Lord Provost, or worse.”
George laughed dryly and said, “This is going to be a mess.”
Ochobai smiled, showing her small, white teeth. “Maybe. But it’s going to be mine.”
Rating: PG
Word Count: 565
Summary: History never happens the same way twice.
Notes: I suppose it might be helpful to have read Tammy’s short story Nawat, but all you really need to know is that Ochobai is one of Aly and Nawat’s children.
George lowered the document he had been perusing and let his eyes fall on his granddaughter where she paused in the doorway. After a moment’s hesitation, she came in; he watched her rolling gait as she crossed the room and pulled a chair up next to him. He raised an eyebrow in question. “Yes, my darling girl?”
Ochobai smiled. If anything, it made him more nervous. “I heard your new assistant was found.”
“Found? Oh yes.” The poor lad had finally turned up face down in a creek, just south of the Scanran border. George could still recall the pattern of the boy’s freckles. He had been too enthusiastic, but that didn’t mean he had deserved to die. George eyed his granddaughter, suspicious. “And where exactly did you hear such nasty news?”
“Uncle Thom.”
Of course. His son was fond of children, but not so fond of them underfoot; Thom would probably have told Ochobai anything to get her to leave him alone. George shook his head. This family was well and truly out of control.
“How old were you when you became the Rogue?” asked his granddaughter.
George blinked, a little startled by the sudden change in conversation. At sixteen, Ochobai reminded him unnervingly of her mother. “Old enough,” he lied. “Where—”
“Because word in the Lower City is that Harrison was walking out with a flowerseller and she got him in the gut,” Ochobai breathed out in a rush.
“Where did you hear that?” he asked. His chest felt tight; was he old enough to be having a stroke? Shaking his head to try and clear it, he pinned her with a look. “Please tell me you’re not sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong; your mother would have a fit.” He was having a fit, though it would do no good to let his granddaughter know that.
“Corus is exactly where my nose belongs,” she said, unable to keep the defensiveness from her tone.
Though she was unfailingly direct when she wanted to be and vague at the best of times, he was afraid that he was beginning to understand what she was getting at. He covered his eyes with his hand and prayed that he was wrong. “I don’t think I want to hear this.”
“It seems like this place could do with a new Rogue.”
“Now I’m sure I don’t want to hear this,” George groaned.
“Grandda.” It wasn’t a whine, but it was close enough. George sighed and took his hand away to survey Ochobai: her face was set, her mouth a stubborn line that he was all too familiar with; despite the short, crow-black hair, those hazel eyes were completely Cooper. He should have known that one of Aly’s children would grow up to be trouble.
The last time he had said no, his only daughter had ended up kidnapped off the coast and in the clutches of a god. Ochobai always tried harder than her siblings to make up for her short stature, but he still couldn’t help worrying.
“What do you want me to say?” he asked.
“That you trust me enough not to get myself killed. That I won’t get dragged up before the Lord Provost, or worse.”
George laughed dryly and said, “This is going to be a mess.”
Ochobai smiled, showing her small, white teeth. “Maybe. But it’s going to be mine.”
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!