Post by Muse on May 25, 2013 0:18:13 GMT 10
Title: Beginnings VI
Rating: PG
Word Count: 821
Pairing: Buri/Raoul
Round/Fight: 2B
Summary: Luckily for Buri, when she runs into a difficulty, she knows who to talk to—or talk at, more often—to work it out.
The noise of the barracks around her reassures Buri that the Own is in Corus, for however brief that amount of time turns out, and she’s already double-checked the rest of the palace. There are no council meetings occurring at the moment, Alanna is at Pirate’s Swoop, and Jon is utterly captivated by the tiny scrap of humanity that is his nine-month-old son, Roald.
She needs advice, she needs someone to talk at, and her favorite giant conversation partner is somewhere in Corus, hiding. She hasn’t found him in any of his palace haunts yet, so… Buri turns a last corner. Therefore—she knocks on the door to the office of the Knight Commander of the Own—Raoul must be here. When he doesn’t answer and the door doesn’t open for her, Buri lets herself in.
Raoul groans.
“Are you here to make my life difficult too?”
“Nonsense,” Buri folds her arms over her chest and looks him over; Raoul is slouched in his desk chair, hands all over in ink stains, and there is a fresh stack of paperwork square in the middle of his desk. “You do that just fine for yourself. Gary’s been here, I see.”
“You should put me out of my misery,” Raoul moans. “He left all these reports here, and he grinned while he did it. He was genuinely happy about it, Buri!”
“Good for him,” Buri flops into one of the other chairs in Raoul’s untidy office, and means it. Gary’s been working, overworking, recently. If he’s joking and laughing again, things are going well.
“…why are you here?” One black eye opens warily, and Buri wants to laugh at the ridiculous picture that Raoul’s made himself into.
“I thought that I’d ask you about the Own, while you’re still in Corus.” Buri pauses, and then admits flatly, “We’re not having as much success as we’d thought, as we had hoped.”
Shifting in his seat, Raoul’s becoming more attentive as she talks, and Buri’s thankful for the little things like that.
“Didn’t you start advertising the positions last—shoot, it’s been a while,--the last time the Own was back at base? I thought I remember you—“
“We did. It hasn’t worked.” Buri’s mouth twists into an unhappy scowl. “Joining a green band of army irregulars without the prestige of the Own or the connections of the Court the way that you have it apparently is simply not the most popular thing to do.” Buri waits a beat after this, then says in a different, defeated tone of voice, “…Maybe it was wishful thinking.”
When Raoul leans forward, both of his eyes are intense and he catches Buri’s gaze and holds it. “Don’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re wrong.” He props his elbows on his desk and rests his chin on his fist. “There have got to be people—“
“—not even the third and fourth sons want a part in this, and their daughters…forget about their daughters. It’s breaking Thayet’s heart. You know that she wanted to offer girls, women, the chance they’ve never had, especially after Alanna…”
“Why do they need to be noble?”
Raoul’s question, soft and gently, turns every idea Buri has had on its head and suddenly things start making sense.
“You would have to train them from the bottom up, to be irregulars and actually useful in the field. But there are people that can already do this—“
“Do you think they’d want to?” Buri’s voice holds a hint of excitement. “Commoners—do you think they’d join?”
Raoul grins. “I’ve seen the way you ride; you can get a lot of attention and fast just by showing off.”
The face Buri makes earns her a snort. “It’s Kmiri trick riding; it’s an art form.”
“It’s beautiful,” Raoul agrees, “but you’d never see any of my men get even close to doing the basics. If nothing else, the weight of their armor would drag them from their mount’s back as soon as they leaned even a little to one side.”
“It would even be useful, in the field,” Buri muses, and plans are coming together. She gets to her feet and walks to the door, her thoughts too quick and tumbled together to sit still any longer. “Thayet’s schools—in the city, the new ones that are public; I could post advertisements there, for the Riders.”
“The Riders?” Raoul asks as she opens the door, because up until now the name that Thayet and Buri have come up with has stayed secret between the two of them.
Buri turns, grinning, and spreads her hands. “The Queen’s Riders—we can’t let you boys have all the fun all the time.”
Rating: PG
Word Count: 821
Pairing: Buri/Raoul
Round/Fight: 2B
Summary: Luckily for Buri, when she runs into a difficulty, she knows who to talk to—or talk at, more often—to work it out.
The noise of the barracks around her reassures Buri that the Own is in Corus, for however brief that amount of time turns out, and she’s already double-checked the rest of the palace. There are no council meetings occurring at the moment, Alanna is at Pirate’s Swoop, and Jon is utterly captivated by the tiny scrap of humanity that is his nine-month-old son, Roald.
She needs advice, she needs someone to talk at, and her favorite giant conversation partner is somewhere in Corus, hiding. She hasn’t found him in any of his palace haunts yet, so… Buri turns a last corner. Therefore—she knocks on the door to the office of the Knight Commander of the Own—Raoul must be here. When he doesn’t answer and the door doesn’t open for her, Buri lets herself in.
Raoul groans.
“Are you here to make my life difficult too?”
“Nonsense,” Buri folds her arms over her chest and looks him over; Raoul is slouched in his desk chair, hands all over in ink stains, and there is a fresh stack of paperwork square in the middle of his desk. “You do that just fine for yourself. Gary’s been here, I see.”
“You should put me out of my misery,” Raoul moans. “He left all these reports here, and he grinned while he did it. He was genuinely happy about it, Buri!”
“Good for him,” Buri flops into one of the other chairs in Raoul’s untidy office, and means it. Gary’s been working, overworking, recently. If he’s joking and laughing again, things are going well.
“…why are you here?” One black eye opens warily, and Buri wants to laugh at the ridiculous picture that Raoul’s made himself into.
“I thought that I’d ask you about the Own, while you’re still in Corus.” Buri pauses, and then admits flatly, “We’re not having as much success as we’d thought, as we had hoped.”
Shifting in his seat, Raoul’s becoming more attentive as she talks, and Buri’s thankful for the little things like that.
“Didn’t you start advertising the positions last—shoot, it’s been a while,--the last time the Own was back at base? I thought I remember you—“
“We did. It hasn’t worked.” Buri’s mouth twists into an unhappy scowl. “Joining a green band of army irregulars without the prestige of the Own or the connections of the Court the way that you have it apparently is simply not the most popular thing to do.” Buri waits a beat after this, then says in a different, defeated tone of voice, “…Maybe it was wishful thinking.”
When Raoul leans forward, both of his eyes are intense and he catches Buri’s gaze and holds it. “Don’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re wrong.” He props his elbows on his desk and rests his chin on his fist. “There have got to be people—“
“—not even the third and fourth sons want a part in this, and their daughters…forget about their daughters. It’s breaking Thayet’s heart. You know that she wanted to offer girls, women, the chance they’ve never had, especially after Alanna…”
“Why do they need to be noble?”
Raoul’s question, soft and gently, turns every idea Buri has had on its head and suddenly things start making sense.
“You would have to train them from the bottom up, to be irregulars and actually useful in the field. But there are people that can already do this—“
“Do you think they’d want to?” Buri’s voice holds a hint of excitement. “Commoners—do you think they’d join?”
Raoul grins. “I’ve seen the way you ride; you can get a lot of attention and fast just by showing off.”
The face Buri makes earns her a snort. “It’s Kmiri trick riding; it’s an art form.”
“It’s beautiful,” Raoul agrees, “but you’d never see any of my men get even close to doing the basics. If nothing else, the weight of their armor would drag them from their mount’s back as soon as they leaned even a little to one side.”
“It would even be useful, in the field,” Buri muses, and plans are coming together. She gets to her feet and walks to the door, her thoughts too quick and tumbled together to sit still any longer. “Thayet’s schools—in the city, the new ones that are public; I could post advertisements there, for the Riders.”
“The Riders?” Raoul asks as she opens the door, because up until now the name that Thayet and Buri have come up with has stayed secret between the two of them.
Buri turns, grinning, and spreads her hands. “The Queen’s Riders—we can’t let you boys have all the fun all the time.”