Post by indifferentred on Feb 25, 2012 4:02:46 GMT 10
To: kittykatloren
Message: Sorry this is so late - I never usually write this pairing, so it was lovely to explore them. Hope you enjoy it...
From: Red
Title: Midwinter Luck
Rating: G
Words: 1, 160
Wishlist Item: 1. Daine/Numair
Summary: Just a bit of good ol' Daine/Numair pre-relationship fluff. Numair's POV on a Midwinter party...
Midwinter. A time for rejoicing and celebrating. Gifts, far too much food, dancing, music... Numair sighs and takes another sip of his apple juice. He had been pleased to be invited to the Riders’ annual Midwinter dance, held in the Palace ballroom on the first night of the holiday, but he wishes that he didn’t have to watch Daine fluttering about amongst the young Riders who had managed to make it back to Corus for the holiday. He wishes he didn’t have to watch her dancing with Evin Larse. He wishes he wasn’t jealous of a foolish Player turned sword-swinger.
He drains his cup. That’s unfair. Evin Larse is a good lad, and a good Rider. The way Buri talks, he’ll be promoted to Group Commander of the Fourth when Tomlan Pettyfer takes retirement in the New Year. And even he has to admit that Larse would make a far better match for young Veralidaine than... anyone else. But he can’t stop himself from snatching another glance at the pair out of the corner of his eye. She is his former student, his colleague and his friend. But on nights like this, it never feels like enough.
She is glorious, as always, in a blue silken dress and silvery sleeveless overrobe – worn on the advice of the Queen, no doubt – and he notes with a mage’s attention to detail that someone has applied the merest hint of kohl to her eyes, and crimson paint to her curving lip. It makes her look older than her tender sixteen years, allows him to imagine that there is a chance for them, for him, that he is not perverted, wrong, dishonourable to be falling in love with his student and colleague. There, he has admitted it. She laughs at one of Larse’s jokes as he twirls her around gracefully and he dies a little more inside. The music is raucous and lively – music for young people who have no cares to trouble them. He is neither.
As the dance finishes, he glances around the room, deciding that enough Riders have already left that his departure will not be counted suspicious. He begins to edge around the room, towards the glass doors leading onto the nearest terrace. From there, he will be able to take a cooling walk in the fresh air back to his rooms. He has just gained the terrace, when a hand on his wrist halts him. Suppressing a sigh of exasperation (probably Buri, wanting to discuss the arrangements they’re making for the re-warding of the Rider Headquarters), he turns – and looks down into the very blue eyes of Veralidaine Sarrasri. She is flushed and out of breath from dancing, and looks completely alive. He realises with a pang of wistful sadness that, had circumstances been different, had she born without her magic, to a commoner family in Tortall, then she would be this girl all the time – young, carefree, with no need to associate with mages or soldiers. Probably this Daine would have a sweetheart, even perhaps a husband. In a different life, perhaps he could have been that sweetheart, that husband...
He forces a smile, drags himself out of the depths of her eyes. “Hello, magelet. That’s a very pretty dress.” She scowls, brushing impatiently at her intricately embroidered skirts, and he hides a smile, remembering fondly her similar attitude to skirts when they had first met. “It might be pretty, but it’s gods-blessed hard to walk in.” Pausing for a moment, she adds as an afterthought, “Lady Alanna’s wearing breeches.” Numair looks over his shoulder, back into the mage-lit ballroom, and catches sight of the realm’s only lady knight. She looks splendid in simple black and silver – understated and elegant. “Alanna has a reputation to uphold,” he reminds Daine dryly. “Was there something particular that you wanted?”
She shakes her head. “Only to say that I’m going into the City with Evin and some of the other Riders. His Ma and sisters are singing at the Dog and Duck tonight, and he’s promised to get us in.” Numair frowns briefly. Daine consorting with commoners in a Lower City tavern? But then, she is sixteen, a woman grown, and well able to defend herself. After all, he recalls, she is the girl who once destroyed the palace of the Carthaki emperor because she ‘lost her temper.’ She is no longer in his charge, no longer his responsibility. No longer his to protect. Perhaps she never had been. “Will you come, Numair?” she asks brightly.
He brings his attention back to her once more. “No, magelet, thank you very much. I’m past the age where I like gallivanting about all night in the name of fun,” he informs her in mock-severity. She giggles, but is serious when she retorts, “You’re not that old!”
Oh, magelet, he thinks sadly. I am fourteen years, three months and six, no seven, days your senior. That is quite enough...
“Are you alright? You’re looking very distracted.” She pauses and a glimmer of mischief slips into her eyes. “Even more distracted than usual.”
He scolds himself silently for being so carried away with his own thoughts that he has aroused her concern, and then replies quite calmly and cheerfully, “Just a little tired, I suppose. We did only get back from Holyrose this morning, after all.”
She nods slowly, not looking entirely convinced. He pats her shoulder gently. “Go and enjoy yourself, magelet. We have a busy year ahead of us, if I’m any judge.”
She half-smiles and he is lost. “Veralidaine – “
“Daine! Daine? Oh, there you are!” Evin Larse reaches them with lengthy strides, a grin plastered across his handsome face and Numair silently grits his teeth. “We thought you’d been dragged off by one of your animals,” he teases.
Daine smacks his arm playfully and blushes. “I’ll be there in a moment,” she promises.
He nods and turns away, calling back over his shoulder, “Hurry up, then! Goodnight, Master Numair!”
Both watch the young Rider vanish back into the ballroom, and then Daine breaks the silence. “Well, I’d best be going, before Evin gets too impatient.”
“Goodnight, Daine,” he murmurs.
“’Night, Numair.” And then she does something wholly unexpected. She steps closer, bobbing up on the tips of her toes, and brushes her lips against his cheek, right at the very corner of his mouth. Stepping back, she is blushing again, shyly this time. “Midwinter luck, Numair,” she says quickly, by way of explanation. And before he can reply, she has gone, in a whirl of blue silk and enchanting eyes. He hears her voice as she catches up with Evin and the rest, watches as the group disappear from view... and then the corners of his mouth tilt up in a sheepish smile.
His fingers press against the spot she kissed, still warm.
She is his former student, his colleague and his friend. And perhaps for now that is enough.
He whistles all the way home.
Message: Sorry this is so late - I never usually write this pairing, so it was lovely to explore them. Hope you enjoy it...
From: Red
Title: Midwinter Luck
Rating: G
Words: 1, 160
Wishlist Item: 1. Daine/Numair
Summary: Just a bit of good ol' Daine/Numair pre-relationship fluff. Numair's POV on a Midwinter party...
Midwinter. A time for rejoicing and celebrating. Gifts, far too much food, dancing, music... Numair sighs and takes another sip of his apple juice. He had been pleased to be invited to the Riders’ annual Midwinter dance, held in the Palace ballroom on the first night of the holiday, but he wishes that he didn’t have to watch Daine fluttering about amongst the young Riders who had managed to make it back to Corus for the holiday. He wishes he didn’t have to watch her dancing with Evin Larse. He wishes he wasn’t jealous of a foolish Player turned sword-swinger.
He drains his cup. That’s unfair. Evin Larse is a good lad, and a good Rider. The way Buri talks, he’ll be promoted to Group Commander of the Fourth when Tomlan Pettyfer takes retirement in the New Year. And even he has to admit that Larse would make a far better match for young Veralidaine than... anyone else. But he can’t stop himself from snatching another glance at the pair out of the corner of his eye. She is his former student, his colleague and his friend. But on nights like this, it never feels like enough.
She is glorious, as always, in a blue silken dress and silvery sleeveless overrobe – worn on the advice of the Queen, no doubt – and he notes with a mage’s attention to detail that someone has applied the merest hint of kohl to her eyes, and crimson paint to her curving lip. It makes her look older than her tender sixteen years, allows him to imagine that there is a chance for them, for him, that he is not perverted, wrong, dishonourable to be falling in love with his student and colleague. There, he has admitted it. She laughs at one of Larse’s jokes as he twirls her around gracefully and he dies a little more inside. The music is raucous and lively – music for young people who have no cares to trouble them. He is neither.
As the dance finishes, he glances around the room, deciding that enough Riders have already left that his departure will not be counted suspicious. He begins to edge around the room, towards the glass doors leading onto the nearest terrace. From there, he will be able to take a cooling walk in the fresh air back to his rooms. He has just gained the terrace, when a hand on his wrist halts him. Suppressing a sigh of exasperation (probably Buri, wanting to discuss the arrangements they’re making for the re-warding of the Rider Headquarters), he turns – and looks down into the very blue eyes of Veralidaine Sarrasri. She is flushed and out of breath from dancing, and looks completely alive. He realises with a pang of wistful sadness that, had circumstances been different, had she born without her magic, to a commoner family in Tortall, then she would be this girl all the time – young, carefree, with no need to associate with mages or soldiers. Probably this Daine would have a sweetheart, even perhaps a husband. In a different life, perhaps he could have been that sweetheart, that husband...
He forces a smile, drags himself out of the depths of her eyes. “Hello, magelet. That’s a very pretty dress.” She scowls, brushing impatiently at her intricately embroidered skirts, and he hides a smile, remembering fondly her similar attitude to skirts when they had first met. “It might be pretty, but it’s gods-blessed hard to walk in.” Pausing for a moment, she adds as an afterthought, “Lady Alanna’s wearing breeches.” Numair looks over his shoulder, back into the mage-lit ballroom, and catches sight of the realm’s only lady knight. She looks splendid in simple black and silver – understated and elegant. “Alanna has a reputation to uphold,” he reminds Daine dryly. “Was there something particular that you wanted?”
She shakes her head. “Only to say that I’m going into the City with Evin and some of the other Riders. His Ma and sisters are singing at the Dog and Duck tonight, and he’s promised to get us in.” Numair frowns briefly. Daine consorting with commoners in a Lower City tavern? But then, she is sixteen, a woman grown, and well able to defend herself. After all, he recalls, she is the girl who once destroyed the palace of the Carthaki emperor because she ‘lost her temper.’ She is no longer in his charge, no longer his responsibility. No longer his to protect. Perhaps she never had been. “Will you come, Numair?” she asks brightly.
He brings his attention back to her once more. “No, magelet, thank you very much. I’m past the age where I like gallivanting about all night in the name of fun,” he informs her in mock-severity. She giggles, but is serious when she retorts, “You’re not that old!”
Oh, magelet, he thinks sadly. I am fourteen years, three months and six, no seven, days your senior. That is quite enough...
“Are you alright? You’re looking very distracted.” She pauses and a glimmer of mischief slips into her eyes. “Even more distracted than usual.”
He scolds himself silently for being so carried away with his own thoughts that he has aroused her concern, and then replies quite calmly and cheerfully, “Just a little tired, I suppose. We did only get back from Holyrose this morning, after all.”
She nods slowly, not looking entirely convinced. He pats her shoulder gently. “Go and enjoy yourself, magelet. We have a busy year ahead of us, if I’m any judge.”
She half-smiles and he is lost. “Veralidaine – “
“Daine! Daine? Oh, there you are!” Evin Larse reaches them with lengthy strides, a grin plastered across his handsome face and Numair silently grits his teeth. “We thought you’d been dragged off by one of your animals,” he teases.
Daine smacks his arm playfully and blushes. “I’ll be there in a moment,” she promises.
He nods and turns away, calling back over his shoulder, “Hurry up, then! Goodnight, Master Numair!”
Both watch the young Rider vanish back into the ballroom, and then Daine breaks the silence. “Well, I’d best be going, before Evin gets too impatient.”
“Goodnight, Daine,” he murmurs.
“’Night, Numair.” And then she does something wholly unexpected. She steps closer, bobbing up on the tips of her toes, and brushes her lips against his cheek, right at the very corner of his mouth. Stepping back, she is blushing again, shyly this time. “Midwinter luck, Numair,” she says quickly, by way of explanation. And before he can reply, she has gone, in a whirl of blue silk and enchanting eyes. He hears her voice as she catches up with Evin and the rest, watches as the group disappear from view... and then the corners of his mouth tilt up in a sheepish smile.
His fingers press against the spot she kissed, still warm.
She is his former student, his colleague and his friend. And perhaps for now that is enough.
He whistles all the way home.
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!