Post by Muse on Jun 1, 2013 22:07:08 GMT 10
Title: After All That
Rating: PG
Word Count: 538
Pairing: Alanna/Jonathan
Round/Fight: 3A
Summary: After the Black City, but before they get back to Persopolis, Alanna and Jon talk.
It could have gone so, so much worse.
Against the blackness of her closed eyelids, Alanna sees the scenes from the day before flicker.
The broad shape of Jon’s shoulders as he slunk through the dark halls of Persopolis ahead of her, leading the way to the stables and into the desert.
The grey light of morning, and the weird semi-light that is dawn over the empty landscape, and the dim glint of Moonlight’s coat beneath her fingers. Alanna’s fingers wind in the mare’s mane to help her balance.
Jon’s footprints and the way they echo emptily on strange black stone. Alanna shudders.
Their Gifts mix sapphire and violet and the purple-blue-indigo that the sky becomes as night falls. Alanna says nothing about how close, how deep, how intimate this strange magic feels; she simply grips Jon’s fingers tighter and pulls him along with her.
Scorch marks on the floor and the green-yellow light that had lit the room sickly is gone. She breathes.
Alanna only realizes that she and Jon are still holding hands when he protests at her grip. She tells him to suck it up, and squeezes tighter for a moment before letting go.
Wind teases across her face, and Alanna frowns for a moment before she remembers that she’s sleeping outside. Eyes still shut, she rolls to one side.
If they’re outdoors, what is the comfortable weight resting around her waist?
Alanna bolts upright, jostling Jon, whose arm has coiled around her firmly as they sleep. Ignoring the part of her that enjoys the contact, Alanna grabs the dead weight of his arm and flings it away from her.
If her sudden bolt into wakefulness didn’t wake Jon, this certainly did.
“Alan, what—“ Jon mutters muzzily, rolling into her and leaning against the side of her thigh. Swatting at him, Alanna scoots away from him.
Jon falls face first onto the ground, groaning. “What has gotten into you?”
Alanna picks herself up. “We go fight demons from legend, you ask me to be your squire, we will be in so much trouble when we get back to Persopolis, and you think it’s a good idea to get all cuddly and treat me like a GIRL, now?”
“But you are a girl,” Jon pointed out pragmatically, and then raised his hands in defense. Red in the face, Alanna swung at him.
“If that’s the way you’re going to be about this,” she retorted hotly, and Jon made a gesture of surrender.
“Joking, joking,” he protested. “And we must have rolled closer to one another in our sleep. I’m sorry it bothered you.”
Alanna picked up her saddle. “…I guess it doesn’t bother me as much as Lord Martin’s lecture will when we get back and he reams us both out,” she admitted. “But don’t you dare do it again.”
Jon, grabbing his own saddle and moving to Darkness’ side, peer around his mount’s neck. “…you liked it, didn’t you.”
Alanna’s head whipped around, and she stared at Jon, a flush working its way up her neck. “No!”
Jon grinned. “Sure, squire mine.”
Rating: PG
Word Count: 538
Pairing: Alanna/Jonathan
Round/Fight: 3A
Summary: After the Black City, but before they get back to Persopolis, Alanna and Jon talk.
It could have gone so, so much worse.
Against the blackness of her closed eyelids, Alanna sees the scenes from the day before flicker.
The broad shape of Jon’s shoulders as he slunk through the dark halls of Persopolis ahead of her, leading the way to the stables and into the desert.
The grey light of morning, and the weird semi-light that is dawn over the empty landscape, and the dim glint of Moonlight’s coat beneath her fingers. Alanna’s fingers wind in the mare’s mane to help her balance.
Jon’s footprints and the way they echo emptily on strange black stone. Alanna shudders.
Their Gifts mix sapphire and violet and the purple-blue-indigo that the sky becomes as night falls. Alanna says nothing about how close, how deep, how intimate this strange magic feels; she simply grips Jon’s fingers tighter and pulls him along with her.
Scorch marks on the floor and the green-yellow light that had lit the room sickly is gone. She breathes.
Alanna only realizes that she and Jon are still holding hands when he protests at her grip. She tells him to suck it up, and squeezes tighter for a moment before letting go.
Wind teases across her face, and Alanna frowns for a moment before she remembers that she’s sleeping outside. Eyes still shut, she rolls to one side.
If they’re outdoors, what is the comfortable weight resting around her waist?
Alanna bolts upright, jostling Jon, whose arm has coiled around her firmly as they sleep. Ignoring the part of her that enjoys the contact, Alanna grabs the dead weight of his arm and flings it away from her.
If her sudden bolt into wakefulness didn’t wake Jon, this certainly did.
“Alan, what—“ Jon mutters muzzily, rolling into her and leaning against the side of her thigh. Swatting at him, Alanna scoots away from him.
Jon falls face first onto the ground, groaning. “What has gotten into you?”
Alanna picks herself up. “We go fight demons from legend, you ask me to be your squire, we will be in so much trouble when we get back to Persopolis, and you think it’s a good idea to get all cuddly and treat me like a GIRL, now?”
“But you are a girl,” Jon pointed out pragmatically, and then raised his hands in defense. Red in the face, Alanna swung at him.
“If that’s the way you’re going to be about this,” she retorted hotly, and Jon made a gesture of surrender.
“Joking, joking,” he protested. “And we must have rolled closer to one another in our sleep. I’m sorry it bothered you.”
Alanna picked up her saddle. “…I guess it doesn’t bother me as much as Lord Martin’s lecture will when we get back and he reams us both out,” she admitted. “But don’t you dare do it again.”
Jon, grabbing his own saddle and moving to Darkness’ side, peer around his mount’s neck. “…you liked it, didn’t you.”
Alanna’s head whipped around, and she stared at Jon, a flush working its way up her neck. “No!”
Jon grinned. “Sure, squire mine.”