Post by Seek on May 4, 2013 7:19:47 GMT 10
Title: Slippers
Rating: PG
Word count: 574 words
Summary: Buri and Raoul head home from his great-aunt's house.
Pairing: Buri/Raoul
Round/Fight: 1D
Notes: Part of the Slow Burn series.
-
They make their excuses once the family dinner is done and leave (sneak out) together. It’s Midwinter, and the streets of Corus are crowded with stalls and celebrating cityfolk. The Provost’s Guard are out in numbers, but despite it all, the Midwinter cheer is infectious.
They stroll, and watch the Midwinter shows that groups of travelling Players are putting up. In their finery, they draw attention from most of the other citygoers, and curious stares, but neither of them are quite up to the long trudge back to the palace.
“Think they’re staring,” Buri mutters. All of a sudden, she groans and kicks off the leather slippers she’s been wearing. “My feet are killing me. Horse lords, how does Thayet walk in these things?”
She bends over and picks them up.
“Do you need a pair of boots?” Raoul asks.
Buri shakes her head. “I’ll be fine. I’ve gone barefoot plenty of times.” She grins. “Bet I can’t get you to go barefoot. You’ll be boasting blisters and crying about your feet in no time.”
“No thanks,” Raoul says cheerfully. “I’ll just enjoy watching you.” He pauses, concerned. “Do you want to head back to the palace now?”
Buri groans. “And run into the tail end of the Midwinter parties? I’d never heard the end of it from Thayet. No, let’s try the fountain square.”
They stroll, close enough but not quite touching towards the fountain square. The lamps have already been lit, and Buri sits down on on the stone rim of the fountain with a soft sigh. “I’m never wearing those things again,” she mutters.
Raoul settles down beside her, where the breeze sends cool spray misting against their skin and clothing. It tugs at her braids. Strands of hair are already beginning to escape. Buri doesn’t notice; for a moment, he almost reaches out to brush them aside, and then draws his hand back instead. “Why did you wear them?” he murmurs.
“Ever tried to wear riding boots with a dress?” Buri says, dryly. “Thayet has a few pairs. All delicate things with laces and a few pretty ribbons. At least she’d made me get the slippers. Those things aren’t made for walking anywhere else except in a room, maybe the palace itself.”
Raoul winces.
“Besides, you did say your great-aunt is a dragon.”
“About that. I’m sorry.”
“What for?”
“My great-aunt.”
Buri grins, and then her hand rests lightly on top of his. “You did warn me.”
“Yes,” he says. His mouth is suddenly very dry, Raoul thinks. “I did.”
It happens in a moment, unexpected, and yet just as unavoidably as though they’d been drifting towards it since the start of the evening. Buri leans over, and then they’re kissing, and he’s breathing in wild grass, the heady scent of the wind in an open field, wildflowers. With his other hand, he gently brushes one of her loosened braids away from her face.
They separate, tentatively. Still less than a handspan apart. Pressed close enough to feel her warmth, the answering desire that he never quite knew what to do with, had never quite acknowledged. “Buri…” he starts.
“Just tell me,” Buri interrupts, “It took us quite a while, didn’t it?”
“Looks like it,” Raoul says. A thought occurs to him. “I’ll bet that half of our men just lost a bet tonight.”
She grins wickedly. “Betting on their commanders? It’s their own fault. So, your room or mine?”
Rating: PG
Word count: 574 words
Summary: Buri and Raoul head home from his great-aunt's house.
Pairing: Buri/Raoul
Round/Fight: 1D
Notes: Part of the Slow Burn series.
-
They make their excuses once the family dinner is done and leave (sneak out) together. It’s Midwinter, and the streets of Corus are crowded with stalls and celebrating cityfolk. The Provost’s Guard are out in numbers, but despite it all, the Midwinter cheer is infectious.
They stroll, and watch the Midwinter shows that groups of travelling Players are putting up. In their finery, they draw attention from most of the other citygoers, and curious stares, but neither of them are quite up to the long trudge back to the palace.
“Think they’re staring,” Buri mutters. All of a sudden, she groans and kicks off the leather slippers she’s been wearing. “My feet are killing me. Horse lords, how does Thayet walk in these things?”
She bends over and picks them up.
“Do you need a pair of boots?” Raoul asks.
Buri shakes her head. “I’ll be fine. I’ve gone barefoot plenty of times.” She grins. “Bet I can’t get you to go barefoot. You’ll be boasting blisters and crying about your feet in no time.”
“No thanks,” Raoul says cheerfully. “I’ll just enjoy watching you.” He pauses, concerned. “Do you want to head back to the palace now?”
Buri groans. “And run into the tail end of the Midwinter parties? I’d never heard the end of it from Thayet. No, let’s try the fountain square.”
They stroll, close enough but not quite touching towards the fountain square. The lamps have already been lit, and Buri sits down on on the stone rim of the fountain with a soft sigh. “I’m never wearing those things again,” she mutters.
Raoul settles down beside her, where the breeze sends cool spray misting against their skin and clothing. It tugs at her braids. Strands of hair are already beginning to escape. Buri doesn’t notice; for a moment, he almost reaches out to brush them aside, and then draws his hand back instead. “Why did you wear them?” he murmurs.
“Ever tried to wear riding boots with a dress?” Buri says, dryly. “Thayet has a few pairs. All delicate things with laces and a few pretty ribbons. At least she’d made me get the slippers. Those things aren’t made for walking anywhere else except in a room, maybe the palace itself.”
Raoul winces.
“Besides, you did say your great-aunt is a dragon.”
“About that. I’m sorry.”
“What for?”
“My great-aunt.”
Buri grins, and then her hand rests lightly on top of his. “You did warn me.”
“Yes,” he says. His mouth is suddenly very dry, Raoul thinks. “I did.”
It happens in a moment, unexpected, and yet just as unavoidably as though they’d been drifting towards it since the start of the evening. Buri leans over, and then they’re kissing, and he’s breathing in wild grass, the heady scent of the wind in an open field, wildflowers. With his other hand, he gently brushes one of her loosened braids away from her face.
They separate, tentatively. Still less than a handspan apart. Pressed close enough to feel her warmth, the answering desire that he never quite knew what to do with, had never quite acknowledged. “Buri…” he starts.
“Just tell me,” Buri interrupts, “It took us quite a while, didn’t it?”
“Looks like it,” Raoul says. A thought occurs to him. “I’ll bet that half of our men just lost a bet tonight.”
She grins wickedly. “Betting on their commanders? It’s their own fault. So, your room or mine?”