Post by hawksandfeathers on Dec 30, 2013 7:14:48 GMT 10
Title: Warmth
Rating: G
For: max
Prompt: "Phelan having some kind of non-sad moment - any tone is fine as long as it's not sad because his very brief appearance in PD is pretty bleak. And not around his relationship with dogs (the four legged kind) because that would be too obvious. Feel free to introduce romance or friendships or whatever if you want, too." - from sign-up thread
Summary: Phelan hopes to start something fresh this Midwinter.
Notes and Warnings: Happy Midwinter, I hope you don't mind the pairing and enjoy! Love, hawks
--
“Happy Midwinter, or whatever you people call it here,” Aniki said, smiling. She passed him a turnover, bit one herself, and walked on. Her long hair swung cheerily to and fro, the smell of pine lingering in the air after her.
Phelan allowed himself to grin and breathe an indulgent sigh. He wondered if he might go to Scanra one day, to fight off raiders across the sheets of ice and against the brutal cold. He’d have a cloak, but Aniki would be by his side, furious heat coming off her in waves. They’d fight in unison, their attacks fluid and smart. Then the men would surrender and slink back to their houses in a cowardly wisp of rusty metal, leaving the pair full with victory. There would be no need to eat just yet.
Together they’d trudge through the snow to their log cabin and Phelan would light the fragrant incense they used after a successful battle. It would peel away the frost on the windows and keep their cloaks dry. Aniki’d bound onto the couch, pulling him and a blanket with her. Hours would pass, and finally their stomachs would start to gnaw.
From day to day, they never knew who’d cook. Sometimes Aniki rustled something up, or Phelan went outside for game. Other days they’d cook together, and if they couldn’t find anything to eat, they made tea and sat on the floor.
Could that ever happen? It was too beautiful to consider. He closed his eyes wearily and sipped his warm cider.
No, he couldn’t afford to think like that. He had to make an effort, and he would. A light tap on her shoulder would do.
“Aniki?” he said.
“Phelan,” she replied softly. She passed him another turnover but he shook his head, a smile breaking out on his face.
He reached out tentatively to stroke her wrist. “I just wanted to say… happy Midwinter.”
Rating: G
For: max
Prompt: "Phelan having some kind of non-sad moment - any tone is fine as long as it's not sad because his very brief appearance in PD is pretty bleak. And not around his relationship with dogs (the four legged kind) because that would be too obvious. Feel free to introduce romance or friendships or whatever if you want, too." - from sign-up thread
Summary: Phelan hopes to start something fresh this Midwinter.
Notes and Warnings: Happy Midwinter, I hope you don't mind the pairing and enjoy! Love, hawks
--
“Happy Midwinter, or whatever you people call it here,” Aniki said, smiling. She passed him a turnover, bit one herself, and walked on. Her long hair swung cheerily to and fro, the smell of pine lingering in the air after her.
Phelan allowed himself to grin and breathe an indulgent sigh. He wondered if he might go to Scanra one day, to fight off raiders across the sheets of ice and against the brutal cold. He’d have a cloak, but Aniki would be by his side, furious heat coming off her in waves. They’d fight in unison, their attacks fluid and smart. Then the men would surrender and slink back to their houses in a cowardly wisp of rusty metal, leaving the pair full with victory. There would be no need to eat just yet.
Together they’d trudge through the snow to their log cabin and Phelan would light the fragrant incense they used after a successful battle. It would peel away the frost on the windows and keep their cloaks dry. Aniki’d bound onto the couch, pulling him and a blanket with her. Hours would pass, and finally their stomachs would start to gnaw.
From day to day, they never knew who’d cook. Sometimes Aniki rustled something up, or Phelan went outside for game. Other days they’d cook together, and if they couldn’t find anything to eat, they made tea and sat on the floor.
Could that ever happen? It was too beautiful to consider. He closed his eyes wearily and sipped his warm cider.
No, he couldn’t afford to think like that. He had to make an effort, and he would. A light tap on her shoulder would do.
“Aniki?” he said.
“Phelan,” she replied softly. She passed him another turnover but he shook his head, a smile breaking out on his face.
He reached out tentatively to stroke her wrist. “I just wanted to say… happy Midwinter.”