Post by Seek on May 4, 2013 7:16:04 GMT 10
Title: Sneaking
Rating: G
Word count: 531 words
Summary: Buri and Raoul conspire to run away.
Pairing: Buri/Raoul
Round/Fight: 1D
Notes: Part of the Slow Burn series.
-
He finds her in the stable yard, with a recurve bow, putting arrow after arrow into the centre of the target, brows furrowed with concentration. If there’s one thing about Buri, it’s that he’s never seen anyone except a Shang more skilled with such a variety of weapons. None of her Riders are nearby. That means only one thing…
“Go away.”
“I figured it wasn’t the curtains,” Raoul says.
Buri looses and the last arrow buries itself slightly to the side of the centre. She scowls at it, but doesn’t stomp down the yard to retrieve her arrows. “Too obvious,” she says. “Everyone knows you’re hiding there.”
“That’s what makes it a perfect hiding spot,” Raoul declares. “They’re looking for a big lump, they’ll never see you there.”
He does succeed in startling a laugh out of her. “You’re offering yourself as a sacrifice?”
He grins. “Occasionally. What are friends for?”
“Poor thing,” Buri murmurs, and they both tramp over to the target by the end of the fence to retrieve her arrows and count them. “No one comes by the Riders’ yard. My Riders…” she grinned, showing teeth. “They know better than to tell everyone their commander is shooting arrows in the yard. How did you get yourself excused anyway?”
“Jon can throw a fit later,” Raoul mutters, “He can’t stop me right now.”
Buri laughs, goes back to hang up the recurve and unstrings it, puts away the quiver. “You ran away?”
Raoul shifts his weight from one foot to another, hands in the pockets of his breeches. His shirt is plain light blue, patched and worn. Own colours, so he must have left the party sometime ago and gotten changed. Still, his sword is belted on.
“Snuck away,” he corrects her.
“It’s not sneaking if Jon saw you.”
“It is if he has to pretend I didn’t,” Raoul counters. “Besides,” he murmurs, “I’m sure Thayet was looking for you.”
The edge to her mood returns. “She doesn’t need me there,” Buri almost-snaps.
“That’s what I thought. Besides,” Raoul says, with a smug grin, “I’ll just tell Jon I was looking for you, to drag you to the party. And,” he adds, “You tell Thayet you were looking for me.”
“And what will we be doing while we’re…looking for each other?”
“We could nip out and see Corus?” Raoul shrugs. “I was thinking…it’s been a while since we’ve been away from the palace, on our own. Too much to do. My men are telling me that there’s a very good inn, called the Jugged Hare.” He glances at her clothes; she’s changed out of that crimson silk dress, and back into the worn practice clothing she feels most at home in. And she’s never really unarmed. He can just barely tell she’s wearing her wrist knives and boot knives. Probably the one down her back too, though how he learned about it is a different story.
“They’ll never find us in that crowd,” Buri muses. It’s the perfect excuse. Maybe it’s just the palace, and she’s going stir-crazy with all the diplomatic parties and introductions.
“That’s the spirit!” Raoul crows. “C’mon.”
“Alright, lead the way, you great tall lout.”
Rating: G
Word count: 531 words
Summary: Buri and Raoul conspire to run away.
Pairing: Buri/Raoul
Round/Fight: 1D
Notes: Part of the Slow Burn series.
-
He finds her in the stable yard, with a recurve bow, putting arrow after arrow into the centre of the target, brows furrowed with concentration. If there’s one thing about Buri, it’s that he’s never seen anyone except a Shang more skilled with such a variety of weapons. None of her Riders are nearby. That means only one thing…
“Go away.”
“I figured it wasn’t the curtains,” Raoul says.
Buri looses and the last arrow buries itself slightly to the side of the centre. She scowls at it, but doesn’t stomp down the yard to retrieve her arrows. “Too obvious,” she says. “Everyone knows you’re hiding there.”
“That’s what makes it a perfect hiding spot,” Raoul declares. “They’re looking for a big lump, they’ll never see you there.”
He does succeed in startling a laugh out of her. “You’re offering yourself as a sacrifice?”
He grins. “Occasionally. What are friends for?”
“Poor thing,” Buri murmurs, and they both tramp over to the target by the end of the fence to retrieve her arrows and count them. “No one comes by the Riders’ yard. My Riders…” she grinned, showing teeth. “They know better than to tell everyone their commander is shooting arrows in the yard. How did you get yourself excused anyway?”
“Jon can throw a fit later,” Raoul mutters, “He can’t stop me right now.”
Buri laughs, goes back to hang up the recurve and unstrings it, puts away the quiver. “You ran away?”
Raoul shifts his weight from one foot to another, hands in the pockets of his breeches. His shirt is plain light blue, patched and worn. Own colours, so he must have left the party sometime ago and gotten changed. Still, his sword is belted on.
“Snuck away,” he corrects her.
“It’s not sneaking if Jon saw you.”
“It is if he has to pretend I didn’t,” Raoul counters. “Besides,” he murmurs, “I’m sure Thayet was looking for you.”
The edge to her mood returns. “She doesn’t need me there,” Buri almost-snaps.
“That’s what I thought. Besides,” Raoul says, with a smug grin, “I’ll just tell Jon I was looking for you, to drag you to the party. And,” he adds, “You tell Thayet you were looking for me.”
“And what will we be doing while we’re…looking for each other?”
“We could nip out and see Corus?” Raoul shrugs. “I was thinking…it’s been a while since we’ve been away from the palace, on our own. Too much to do. My men are telling me that there’s a very good inn, called the Jugged Hare.” He glances at her clothes; she’s changed out of that crimson silk dress, and back into the worn practice clothing she feels most at home in. And she’s never really unarmed. He can just barely tell she’s wearing her wrist knives and boot knives. Probably the one down her back too, though how he learned about it is a different story.
“They’ll never find us in that crowd,” Buri muses. It’s the perfect excuse. Maybe it’s just the palace, and she’s going stir-crazy with all the diplomatic parties and introductions.
“That’s the spirit!” Raoul crows. “C’mon.”
“Alright, lead the way, you great tall lout.”