Post by EymberFyire on Apr 16, 2013 16:08:19 GMT 10
Title: The Rule of Thirds 2, PG-13
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 812
Pairing: Kel/Lalasa
Round/Fight: 1/B
Summary: “Time seems to freeze in that instance, clarify, as the obvious nature of what is happening intersects with what was and what will be”.
Warnings: Brief descriptions of sexuality between two consenting adult. Less brief description of heartbreak.
“I made dinner...”
Tian’s voice is hesitant. She stands on the far side of the common room in their shared apartments in the Lower City, and wonders for a brief, exhausted moment when things had become this tentative between them. A passing thought, only - she knows this answer. Tries not to think of knights, and letters, and those returning from war.
Lalasa turns from the window where she has been gazing out into the square, and she smiles a brief, tight smile that echoes Tian’s tension and strain. “Thank you, love.” There is a pause. Neither of them seeks to cross the space, then “I’m sorry I didn’t help. I was just...”
“Thinking.” Tian replies, and the chorus of their voices causes them both to smile for a moment. It is a brief return to a less confusing time, and both women look away when it passes, towards the floor or the fire. Something safer.
But the growing quiet, and the distance of these past few weeks has grown near unbearable, and she can’t let it go tonight, at least without another try. “You look tired.” A wordless nod is her answer. There is something valiant in her attempt though, and so she tries again. “Was work so taxing?”
Lalasa runs a hand through recently cropped hair, and replies without looking up.
“We had a fresh wave come in off the Scanran front” and suddenly Tian wishes she hadn’t asked, but Lalasa continues, unaware of her thoughts “all needing new clothes for themselves...”. That silence. That damed cloying silence. “Ke.. the Lady Knight... came by briefly last night.” She looks up anxiously, rushing to continue, “She needed an outfit. For her ball.”
“Well...” and there is not much to say to that, so Tian says the only thing she can think of, “...It is good to have you home for dinner tonight.”
It happens to be the truth.
And then Lalasa crosses the room quickly, strides sure and precise. Tian’s stomach drops for a dizzying moment, and it is almost as if they are back to the beginning, bursting through the door, lips and tongue meeting, pushing each other to the bed, or floor, or against a wall, all passion and impatience. But Lalasa passes by her, steps taking her into the kitchen, and Tian feels the bitter sensation of hope disappointed as it trickles through her chest and burns her throat.
She follows her into the kitchen and pauses as Lalasa reaches for their usual plates. Something grips her, and she says quietly, “Use the Harrisons.”
Lalasa turns back, a surprised question bubbling at her lips, but some look on Tian’s face must keep it at bay. It is the way most questions and conversations have been lately - locked deeply inside the women’s throats. Clawing for the surface. Savagely restrained. Mutely, she passes a plate.
The patterns on this set are beautiful - usually reserved for birthdays or parties - and for a moment Tian is transported back to that summer when they decided they would share quarters. A warm night, full of promise and the scent of summer, the two girls laughing and bantering as they shopped along high street - an extravagance that only foolish young love could excuse.
Lalasa turns to pass a cup to Tian, the brilliant colors obscenely beautiful. She grasps for it, feels it slip as Lalasa releases it a moment too early. It plummets.
Time seems to freeze in that instance, clarify, as the obvious nature of what is happening intersects with what was and what will be, and there is no cry of dismay, no futile attempt to grab the cup or stop its decent - just a light, breathy, sigh that escapes into the deafening silence before the cup’s impact on the tiled floor of their kitchen. And in that sigh, in that moment, a thousand things flicker through her mind, memories replaying in their fickle, half-true way; a shy girl hiding from the cruel gossips, her grateful smile as Tian had taken up her cause - the trepidation, the first time she’d kissed her, and Lalasa’s smile the night they’d first become lovers. Lalasa, laughing and silly from wine at midwinter, Lalasa staring wide eyed at the building that would become her first shop. Lalasa. Lalsaa, Lalasa, Lalasa...
The impact is sudden, cruel and abrupt, and Lalasa says quietly, “Oh, drat.”
She kneels to pick up the pieces. “Perhaps it can be mended...” but Tian is kneeling in front of her, taking her hands in her own.
“Darling girl.” Lalasa meets her eyes. “Don’t.”
And if Tian’s smile is tremulous and tearful, it is also full of love, and regret, and understanding. She raises a trembling hand to cup the younger woman’s cheek one last time, wiping the tears that have started to fall with her thumb. Then, Tian lets her go.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 812
Pairing: Kel/Lalasa
Round/Fight: 1/B
Summary: “Time seems to freeze in that instance, clarify, as the obvious nature of what is happening intersects with what was and what will be”.
Warnings: Brief descriptions of sexuality between two consenting adult. Less brief description of heartbreak.
“I made dinner...”
Tian’s voice is hesitant. She stands on the far side of the common room in their shared apartments in the Lower City, and wonders for a brief, exhausted moment when things had become this tentative between them. A passing thought, only - she knows this answer. Tries not to think of knights, and letters, and those returning from war.
Lalasa turns from the window where she has been gazing out into the square, and she smiles a brief, tight smile that echoes Tian’s tension and strain. “Thank you, love.” There is a pause. Neither of them seeks to cross the space, then “I’m sorry I didn’t help. I was just...”
“Thinking.” Tian replies, and the chorus of their voices causes them both to smile for a moment. It is a brief return to a less confusing time, and both women look away when it passes, towards the floor or the fire. Something safer.
But the growing quiet, and the distance of these past few weeks has grown near unbearable, and she can’t let it go tonight, at least without another try. “You look tired.” A wordless nod is her answer. There is something valiant in her attempt though, and so she tries again. “Was work so taxing?”
Lalasa runs a hand through recently cropped hair, and replies without looking up.
“We had a fresh wave come in off the Scanran front” and suddenly Tian wishes she hadn’t asked, but Lalasa continues, unaware of her thoughts “all needing new clothes for themselves...”. That silence. That damed cloying silence. “Ke.. the Lady Knight... came by briefly last night.” She looks up anxiously, rushing to continue, “She needed an outfit. For her ball.”
“Well...” and there is not much to say to that, so Tian says the only thing she can think of, “...It is good to have you home for dinner tonight.”
It happens to be the truth.
And then Lalasa crosses the room quickly, strides sure and precise. Tian’s stomach drops for a dizzying moment, and it is almost as if they are back to the beginning, bursting through the door, lips and tongue meeting, pushing each other to the bed, or floor, or against a wall, all passion and impatience. But Lalasa passes by her, steps taking her into the kitchen, and Tian feels the bitter sensation of hope disappointed as it trickles through her chest and burns her throat.
She follows her into the kitchen and pauses as Lalasa reaches for their usual plates. Something grips her, and she says quietly, “Use the Harrisons.”
Lalasa turns back, a surprised question bubbling at her lips, but some look on Tian’s face must keep it at bay. It is the way most questions and conversations have been lately - locked deeply inside the women’s throats. Clawing for the surface. Savagely restrained. Mutely, she passes a plate.
The patterns on this set are beautiful - usually reserved for birthdays or parties - and for a moment Tian is transported back to that summer when they decided they would share quarters. A warm night, full of promise and the scent of summer, the two girls laughing and bantering as they shopped along high street - an extravagance that only foolish young love could excuse.
Lalasa turns to pass a cup to Tian, the brilliant colors obscenely beautiful. She grasps for it, feels it slip as Lalasa releases it a moment too early. It plummets.
Time seems to freeze in that instance, clarify, as the obvious nature of what is happening intersects with what was and what will be, and there is no cry of dismay, no futile attempt to grab the cup or stop its decent - just a light, breathy, sigh that escapes into the deafening silence before the cup’s impact on the tiled floor of their kitchen. And in that sigh, in that moment, a thousand things flicker through her mind, memories replaying in their fickle, half-true way; a shy girl hiding from the cruel gossips, her grateful smile as Tian had taken up her cause - the trepidation, the first time she’d kissed her, and Lalasa’s smile the night they’d first become lovers. Lalasa, laughing and silly from wine at midwinter, Lalasa staring wide eyed at the building that would become her first shop. Lalasa. Lalsaa, Lalasa, Lalasa...
The impact is sudden, cruel and abrupt, and Lalasa says quietly, “Oh, drat.”
She kneels to pick up the pieces. “Perhaps it can be mended...” but Tian is kneeling in front of her, taking her hands in her own.
“Darling girl.” Lalasa meets her eyes. “Don’t.”
And if Tian’s smile is tremulous and tearful, it is also full of love, and regret, and understanding. She raises a trembling hand to cup the younger woman’s cheek one last time, wiping the tears that have started to fall with her thumb. Then, Tian lets her go.