Post by EymberFyire on Apr 16, 2013 16:08:57 GMT 10
Title: The Rule of Thirds 2, PG
Rating: PG
Word Count: 747
Pairing: Kel/Lalasa
Round/Fight: 1/B
Summary: “They sit, the quiet between them amicable enough, for a while, but Lalasa’s patience has never been as practiced as Kel’s.”.
Warnings: None
It is past midsummer in the last heady, hot days before fall and Kel tentatively crosses the Kingsbridge in the height of afternoon, sweat beading on her forehead as she trudges its length. It is a long walk - long enough to reconsider, and turn back, and consider again. Reverse course. Turn. Back and forth. The urchins must think her mad, walking her crazed path before the entrance of Queen’s Keep, but there are few fool enough to be out in this weather, and the ones that are doze in the shade.
She stands before the entrance, pausing for a moment, then enters at last into the blessedly cool shade of tall and commanding cyprus trees. She sighs softly, tension in her shoulders loosening.
Then, out of the quiet - “I wondered if you would come.” A small, curved form lounges on a patch of grass, eyes closed, content as a cat in a sunbeam. She opens her eyes and smiles a sleepy, mischevous smile that had played across Kel’s mind all spring. Lalasa stretches, lean arms and delicate fingers extending and contracting. Stands. And Kel finds herself holding her breath for a moment.
“It’s been too long.” The statement is blunt, but not reproachful, and softened by another smile. Kel ducks her head, suddenly shy, and nods. Truthfully it has been too long - far too long, Midwinter has given way to spring, and spring to midsummer. It will soon fade into fall - three quarters of a year eaten away by time
Kel is not a coward - she has faced down bullies, and treason and death - but she feels like one, pinned in the gaze of this tiny, vibrant woman. At last Lalasa glances away, a look on her face that Kel can’t quite read, and walks down a dirt path away from the entrance to the Keep.
Kel follows her around a bend, noting the silence and the still - enjoying this break from the hustle of the palace. They stop before an ancient stone bench, timeless and mossed in front of a large pond that is as still as glass, reflecting the clouds and the blue of the sky above. She wonders if Lalasa knew the calming effect the setting would have on her. Suspects she does. Ponders this for a moment, then ignores the confusion, taking the serenity of the setting into her heart.
They sit, the quiet between them amicable enough, for a while, but Lalasa’s patience has never been as practiced as Kel’s.
“I had hoped to see you at the shop.” Her eyes are intense, but Kel face is serene as she gazes at the pond, its still water reflecting a cloud back to her. A heron perches nearby, great gray wings folded up close to his chest.
Kel says nothing, because there is nothing to say, at least that she knows how to express, and she clenches her breeches between big hands for a moment, before letting them go. Shrugs wordlessly.
“Truth told, I suppose I haven’t been much company.” and Kel turns, because she can sense the gloom in Lalasa’s voice. “Tian and I...” and her voice fades.
And suddenly, Kel isn’t sure what she feels or what to say, but she says, “I’m sorry.”, and truthfully she is. She can tell that Lalasa’s grief is still very present and real. And as confused and conflicted as she is, she still hurts for her friend. Regrets that she wasn’t there for her sooner.
“So am I.” and the older woman looks away, up towards the crown of the trees.
Kel considers her for a moment, then looks back at the pond, and the heron, and his solitary vigil. “What happened?”
The heron cocks his head this way and that. For a moment, Kel thinks Lalasa will not reply.
“She,” and there was a pause as they watched the bird take to wing overhead, great wings flapping magnificently in the heat-shimmering air, “didn’t believe my heart was hers.”
A pause. Brief.
“Ah.” Kel’s voice is quiet. The heron returns, and the stillness of the pond is broken by his landing. Ripples mar the glassy surface. She watches the bird. “And was it?”
Tiny waves slosh over the shore while the heron floats atop it all, unperturbed.
Silence stretches. Then at last - “No.” A beat. “At least, not lately.”
There is a splash in the pond, and the shadow of the heron passing overhead as startled hazel eyes meet hopeful brown.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 747
Pairing: Kel/Lalasa
Round/Fight: 1/B
Summary: “They sit, the quiet between them amicable enough, for a while, but Lalasa’s patience has never been as practiced as Kel’s.”.
Warnings: None
It is past midsummer in the last heady, hot days before fall and Kel tentatively crosses the Kingsbridge in the height of afternoon, sweat beading on her forehead as she trudges its length. It is a long walk - long enough to reconsider, and turn back, and consider again. Reverse course. Turn. Back and forth. The urchins must think her mad, walking her crazed path before the entrance of Queen’s Keep, but there are few fool enough to be out in this weather, and the ones that are doze in the shade.
She stands before the entrance, pausing for a moment, then enters at last into the blessedly cool shade of tall and commanding cyprus trees. She sighs softly, tension in her shoulders loosening.
Then, out of the quiet - “I wondered if you would come.” A small, curved form lounges on a patch of grass, eyes closed, content as a cat in a sunbeam. She opens her eyes and smiles a sleepy, mischevous smile that had played across Kel’s mind all spring. Lalasa stretches, lean arms and delicate fingers extending and contracting. Stands. And Kel finds herself holding her breath for a moment.
“It’s been too long.” The statement is blunt, but not reproachful, and softened by another smile. Kel ducks her head, suddenly shy, and nods. Truthfully it has been too long - far too long, Midwinter has given way to spring, and spring to midsummer. It will soon fade into fall - three quarters of a year eaten away by time
Kel is not a coward - she has faced down bullies, and treason and death - but she feels like one, pinned in the gaze of this tiny, vibrant woman. At last Lalasa glances away, a look on her face that Kel can’t quite read, and walks down a dirt path away from the entrance to the Keep.
Kel follows her around a bend, noting the silence and the still - enjoying this break from the hustle of the palace. They stop before an ancient stone bench, timeless and mossed in front of a large pond that is as still as glass, reflecting the clouds and the blue of the sky above. She wonders if Lalasa knew the calming effect the setting would have on her. Suspects she does. Ponders this for a moment, then ignores the confusion, taking the serenity of the setting into her heart.
They sit, the quiet between them amicable enough, for a while, but Lalasa’s patience has never been as practiced as Kel’s.
“I had hoped to see you at the shop.” Her eyes are intense, but Kel face is serene as she gazes at the pond, its still water reflecting a cloud back to her. A heron perches nearby, great gray wings folded up close to his chest.
Kel says nothing, because there is nothing to say, at least that she knows how to express, and she clenches her breeches between big hands for a moment, before letting them go. Shrugs wordlessly.
“Truth told, I suppose I haven’t been much company.” and Kel turns, because she can sense the gloom in Lalasa’s voice. “Tian and I...” and her voice fades.
And suddenly, Kel isn’t sure what she feels or what to say, but she says, “I’m sorry.”, and truthfully she is. She can tell that Lalasa’s grief is still very present and real. And as confused and conflicted as she is, she still hurts for her friend. Regrets that she wasn’t there for her sooner.
“So am I.” and the older woman looks away, up towards the crown of the trees.
Kel considers her for a moment, then looks back at the pond, and the heron, and his solitary vigil. “What happened?”
The heron cocks his head this way and that. For a moment, Kel thinks Lalasa will not reply.
“She,” and there was a pause as they watched the bird take to wing overhead, great wings flapping magnificently in the heat-shimmering air, “didn’t believe my heart was hers.”
A pause. Brief.
“Ah.” Kel’s voice is quiet. The heron returns, and the stillness of the pond is broken by his landing. Ripples mar the glassy surface. She watches the bird. “And was it?”
Tiny waves slosh over the shore while the heron floats atop it all, unperturbed.
Silence stretches. Then at last - “No.” A beat. “At least, not lately.”
There is a splash in the pond, and the shadow of the heron passing overhead as startled hazel eyes meet hopeful brown.