Post by hawksandfeathers on Dec 15, 2013 12:58:16 GMT 10
Title: Archaic
Rating: PG
For: Tamari
Prompt: 5. Alex/Aly. You'd probably want to write some sort of time travel or AU, but don't worry about the background details unless you want to.
Summary: Alex and Aly meet in a bar.
Notes and Warnings: This is some kind of strange modern!AU with medieval and Victorian undertones?? I hope you don't mind. Happy Midwinter!!!
---
Aly slipped into the pub and pushed her hair back. She liked to keep it short; she could do without tangles and plaits.
The band upfront was playing some folksy violin she thought was strangely nice, though jazz was more to her taste. It made her feel classy.
Crossing her legs, she ordered a glass of wine and looked over at the diamond-paned windows. They brought her back to her family home with a rueful jolt. Her mom was probably ranting to George about something or another, and Alan might be fighting in the army right now, getting promoted to general. Maybe Thom had uncovered an ancient historical document and gotten another academic distinction. The 14th-century furniture was surely falling to bits, as with such a busy house, no one could be bothered to care for it.
Someone came up behind her just as the violin reached its crescendo and fell silent. Aly turned around and smiled. “Hey.”
“Your mother works for the king.”
Aly’s smile faltered for a moment and she reached for a wineglass that wasn’t there yet. “How do you know that?”
The music started up again and this time it was a lively reel. The man motioned to the empty space in the middle of the bar, foot tapping on the old floorboards. “Let’s dance, yes?”
Aly nodded after a slight hesitation and took his bony hand. She was never impulsive with this sort of thing. Every move was planned, every conquest dismissed with an arch eyebrow. But somehow she was drawn to this anonymous, abrupt man.
They began, and everything seemed for a moment archaic. Or medieval, like they were barefoot on the highlands of Ireland with no electricity in the house they kept (which had diamond-paned windows). Everything was simple and dependent on emotion, so much so that if one betrayed the other it would be felt more keenly than ever in another time.
So much so that when she found out he was helping the duke with the reddish-couloured magic, her face drained of it.
The last step brought the dust dancing up to the eaves, and she forgot that strange vision when his eyes caught hers.
Rating: PG
For: Tamari
Prompt: 5. Alex/Aly. You'd probably want to write some sort of time travel or AU, but don't worry about the background details unless you want to.
Summary: Alex and Aly meet in a bar.
Notes and Warnings: This is some kind of strange modern!AU with medieval and Victorian undertones?? I hope you don't mind. Happy Midwinter!!!
---
Aly slipped into the pub and pushed her hair back. She liked to keep it short; she could do without tangles and plaits.
The band upfront was playing some folksy violin she thought was strangely nice, though jazz was more to her taste. It made her feel classy.
Crossing her legs, she ordered a glass of wine and looked over at the diamond-paned windows. They brought her back to her family home with a rueful jolt. Her mom was probably ranting to George about something or another, and Alan might be fighting in the army right now, getting promoted to general. Maybe Thom had uncovered an ancient historical document and gotten another academic distinction. The 14th-century furniture was surely falling to bits, as with such a busy house, no one could be bothered to care for it.
Someone came up behind her just as the violin reached its crescendo and fell silent. Aly turned around and smiled. “Hey.”
“Your mother works for the king.”
Aly’s smile faltered for a moment and she reached for a wineglass that wasn’t there yet. “How do you know that?”
The music started up again and this time it was a lively reel. The man motioned to the empty space in the middle of the bar, foot tapping on the old floorboards. “Let’s dance, yes?”
Aly nodded after a slight hesitation and took his bony hand. She was never impulsive with this sort of thing. Every move was planned, every conquest dismissed with an arch eyebrow. But somehow she was drawn to this anonymous, abrupt man.
They began, and everything seemed for a moment archaic. Or medieval, like they were barefoot on the highlands of Ireland with no electricity in the house they kept (which had diamond-paned windows). Everything was simple and dependent on emotion, so much so that if one betrayed the other it would be felt more keenly than ever in another time.
So much so that when she found out he was helping the duke with the reddish-couloured magic, her face drained of it.
The last step brought the dust dancing up to the eaves, and she forgot that strange vision when his eyes caught hers.