Post by Tamari on Aug 10, 2012 6:31:02 GMT 10
Title: Walk these halls alone
Rating: PG
Team: PotS/DL
Prompt: You were right about this being a bad idea
Word Count: 363
Summary (and any Warnings): Nothing works out for him. Two perspectives on one day.
(He walks down the stone halls, the torches in brackets, hearing the click of his boots on the floor.)
There’s a knock on the door and Lianne scoots off the bed to answer it.
“Oh, Vania!” she says, pulling the hairbrush away from her tangled dark hair. “Need something?”
Vania drags her off to breakfast, chattering on about some ball.
(He knockknockknocks on the door, “Lianne are you there?”, but there’s nothing.)
She returns to her room to find a note pushed under her door.
(The paper in his hand, he scrawls hasty words and shoves them to where she’ll find them.)
I miss you.
She knows who it’s from.
Lianne rests her head against the wall.
(He’s off to the practice courts to find his brother now, on the lookout for her as always.)
She needs to clear her head with a good archery session. She grabs her bow and slips out into the corridor.
(He settles in for a nice chat with Alan, smelling the sweat in the air, feeling out of place.)
Lianne doesn’t see him with her hood tugged over her head.
(Their eyes don’t lock, nothing.)
After a bell of furious shooting, she lapses and sinks to her knees right on the court. She buries her head in her hands and anyone notices her, they’re ignoring it anyway.
(He says a quick good-bye and wanders away; he stops and says, “Are you okay?”)
Her head snaps up.
(Those sapphire eyes are very familiar.)
“Oh, hello,” she says slowly. “May I help you?”
(He rolls his own eyes, plopping down beside her in the dirt and saying, “Please, Lianne, we know each other better than that.”}
She sighs. “You were right about this being a bad idea,” she says.
(I know, he thinks, but nothing.)
“But I miss you,” she says, closing her eyes and listening to the twang of bowstrings and thud of arrows.
(“Me too,” he says.)
“It’ll work out, Thom.”
(“You’re so far away.”)
“I’m right here.” She gestures to herself, brow wrinkling.
(But that’s not what he means, and she knows it.)
She wraps her arms around him and neither of them care who sees.
Rating: PG
Team: PotS/DL
Prompt: You were right about this being a bad idea
Word Count: 363
Summary (and any Warnings): Nothing works out for him. Two perspectives on one day.
(He walks down the stone halls, the torches in brackets, hearing the click of his boots on the floor.)
There’s a knock on the door and Lianne scoots off the bed to answer it.
“Oh, Vania!” she says, pulling the hairbrush away from her tangled dark hair. “Need something?”
Vania drags her off to breakfast, chattering on about some ball.
(He knockknockknocks on the door, “Lianne are you there?”, but there’s nothing.)
She returns to her room to find a note pushed under her door.
(The paper in his hand, he scrawls hasty words and shoves them to where she’ll find them.)
I miss you.
She knows who it’s from.
Lianne rests her head against the wall.
(He’s off to the practice courts to find his brother now, on the lookout for her as always.)
She needs to clear her head with a good archery session. She grabs her bow and slips out into the corridor.
(He settles in for a nice chat with Alan, smelling the sweat in the air, feeling out of place.)
Lianne doesn’t see him with her hood tugged over her head.
(Their eyes don’t lock, nothing.)
After a bell of furious shooting, she lapses and sinks to her knees right on the court. She buries her head in her hands and anyone notices her, they’re ignoring it anyway.
(He says a quick good-bye and wanders away; he stops and says, “Are you okay?”)
Her head snaps up.
(Those sapphire eyes are very familiar.)
“Oh, hello,” she says slowly. “May I help you?”
(He rolls his own eyes, plopping down beside her in the dirt and saying, “Please, Lianne, we know each other better than that.”}
She sighs. “You were right about this being a bad idea,” she says.
(I know, he thinks, but nothing.)
“But I miss you,” she says, closing her eyes and listening to the twang of bowstrings and thud of arrows.
(“Me too,” he says.)
“It’ll work out, Thom.”
(“You’re so far away.”)
“I’m right here.” She gestures to herself, brow wrinkling.
(But that’s not what he means, and she knows it.)
She wraps her arms around him and neither of them care who sees.