For Kypriotha, Seeds of Friendship and Amusement, PG-13
May 12, 2020 5:17:53 GMT 10
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Post by devilinthedetails on May 12, 2020 5:17:53 GMT 10
Title: Seeds of Friendship and Amusement
PG-13 for some references to sexuality and off-color humor.
For: Kypriotha. I hope this story can provide some amusement and fun in the tough times the world is currently experiencing. May it be a small escape from the harshness of our present reality.
Prompt: POTS gang shenanigans, any time period.
Summary: Kel, Neal, Merric, Seaver, and Owen in an apple tree on an autumn afternoon.
Seeds of Friendship and Amusement
On a Sunday afternoon mercifully of punishment work, Kel perched on a bough near the top of an apple tree in a palace courtyard. Before he had left to squire for Lord Imrah, Roald had shown her this apple tree and explained to her that it had been planted to commemorate the signing of the treaty that had ended the last war with Tusaine as a living monument to peace. Kel didn’t know what it would symbolize when this living monument to peace eventually fell to some storm, nor did she particularly care. Her focus was fixed entirely on the sketch of the courtyard terrain she was attempting to draw. This self-assigned task was complicated by the light breeze swaying the branch on which she was perched.
To another person, the bough’s mild swaying might have been pleasantly reminiscent of a cradle’s rocking, but to Kel, who hated heights, the branch’s movement made her feel sick. It was, she thought, an accomplishment that she hadn’t vomited yet.
There was a rustling of leaves—not from the wind but from a person—below her. Then, abruptly, the movement of her bough was no longer gentle but jolting as Merric, rust hair radiant in the clear autumn sunlight, climbed up to her branch in his quest to find and gobble the crispest apples on the tree.
“You’re rocking my branch.” Kel made scolding, shooing gesture at Merric as he stretched over her head to snatch at an apple hanging from the bough above her. “Go pick apples elsewhere.”
“The ripest apples are near the top.” Merric grabbed the apple, chomped into his prize, and shot her a smug smile that treated her to a nasty display of partially chewed fruit.
“Careful not to eat any seeds.” Seaver tossed the core of an apple he had just finished to the ground for the palace birds to discover and devour. “A single seed can stick in your stomach for seven years, I’ve heard.”
“You’ve heard a load of dung.” Neal rolled leaf green eyes from the branch beside Kel. “If you eat an apple seed, it’ll go to your stomach, move through your intestines, and come out in your dung like anything else.”
“How do you know?” Seaver snatched up another apple from the bough on which he was lounging midway up the tree.
“My father told me when I was a boy prone to believing all sorts of ridiculous nonsense.” Neal had assumed his loftiest tone, which made Kel snort as she corrected a drawing in her sketch of the courtyard below her. “Seeds are meant to come out in dung because plants want animals—including people—to eat the fruit, swallow the seeds, and then drop out the seeds in dung. Dung is manure, and seeds are how plants reproduce.”
“What a strange way to reproduce.” Merric spat out a seed with the apparent intent of seeing how far it could fly across the courtyard.
“Not nearly so strange as anything with girls.” Owen wrinkled his nose, and, turning to look at him, Kel shook her head as she saw the dribble of sticky juice on his chin. Meeting Kel’s eyes, he added by way of clumsy apology, “Not talking about you, Kel, of course. You aren’t really a girl. You’re more of a boy. As good as any boy.”
“I’m a girl,” Kel corrected him, because it was so important that her friends understand what she was doing and why in training to become a knight. “And I’m proud of it.”
“You reveal yourself as an uncultured ignorant creature who has yet to attain an awareness of the sublime beauty of the opposite sex.” Neal was obviously determined to take advantage of the opportunity to wax poetic about the feminine beauty of the court ladies. “Once you attain such an awareness, you will not speak so disparagingly of the charms of the fairer sex…”
Before Neal could inflict on them a recitation of romantic poetry best to remain the provenance of troubadours, Kel interrupted, hurling her handkerchief at Owen, as she ordered him, “Wipe your chin. It’s covered in juice.”
“Now you’re acting like a girl.” Despite this complaint, Owen obligingly swiped the juice from her chin.
Fond exasperation for her friend welling within her, Kel lobbed an apple at Owen’s head, which he ducked and caught with a raised hand, crunching into it with every sign of contentment.
PG-13 for some references to sexuality and off-color humor.
For: Kypriotha. I hope this story can provide some amusement and fun in the tough times the world is currently experiencing. May it be a small escape from the harshness of our present reality.
Prompt: POTS gang shenanigans, any time period.
Summary: Kel, Neal, Merric, Seaver, and Owen in an apple tree on an autumn afternoon.
Seeds of Friendship and Amusement
On a Sunday afternoon mercifully of punishment work, Kel perched on a bough near the top of an apple tree in a palace courtyard. Before he had left to squire for Lord Imrah, Roald had shown her this apple tree and explained to her that it had been planted to commemorate the signing of the treaty that had ended the last war with Tusaine as a living monument to peace. Kel didn’t know what it would symbolize when this living monument to peace eventually fell to some storm, nor did she particularly care. Her focus was fixed entirely on the sketch of the courtyard terrain she was attempting to draw. This self-assigned task was complicated by the light breeze swaying the branch on which she was perched.
To another person, the bough’s mild swaying might have been pleasantly reminiscent of a cradle’s rocking, but to Kel, who hated heights, the branch’s movement made her feel sick. It was, she thought, an accomplishment that she hadn’t vomited yet.
There was a rustling of leaves—not from the wind but from a person—below her. Then, abruptly, the movement of her bough was no longer gentle but jolting as Merric, rust hair radiant in the clear autumn sunlight, climbed up to her branch in his quest to find and gobble the crispest apples on the tree.
“You’re rocking my branch.” Kel made scolding, shooing gesture at Merric as he stretched over her head to snatch at an apple hanging from the bough above her. “Go pick apples elsewhere.”
“The ripest apples are near the top.” Merric grabbed the apple, chomped into his prize, and shot her a smug smile that treated her to a nasty display of partially chewed fruit.
“Careful not to eat any seeds.” Seaver tossed the core of an apple he had just finished to the ground for the palace birds to discover and devour. “A single seed can stick in your stomach for seven years, I’ve heard.”
“You’ve heard a load of dung.” Neal rolled leaf green eyes from the branch beside Kel. “If you eat an apple seed, it’ll go to your stomach, move through your intestines, and come out in your dung like anything else.”
“How do you know?” Seaver snatched up another apple from the bough on which he was lounging midway up the tree.
“My father told me when I was a boy prone to believing all sorts of ridiculous nonsense.” Neal had assumed his loftiest tone, which made Kel snort as she corrected a drawing in her sketch of the courtyard below her. “Seeds are meant to come out in dung because plants want animals—including people—to eat the fruit, swallow the seeds, and then drop out the seeds in dung. Dung is manure, and seeds are how plants reproduce.”
“What a strange way to reproduce.” Merric spat out a seed with the apparent intent of seeing how far it could fly across the courtyard.
“Not nearly so strange as anything with girls.” Owen wrinkled his nose, and, turning to look at him, Kel shook her head as she saw the dribble of sticky juice on his chin. Meeting Kel’s eyes, he added by way of clumsy apology, “Not talking about you, Kel, of course. You aren’t really a girl. You’re more of a boy. As good as any boy.”
“I’m a girl,” Kel corrected him, because it was so important that her friends understand what she was doing and why in training to become a knight. “And I’m proud of it.”
“You reveal yourself as an uncultured ignorant creature who has yet to attain an awareness of the sublime beauty of the opposite sex.” Neal was obviously determined to take advantage of the opportunity to wax poetic about the feminine beauty of the court ladies. “Once you attain such an awareness, you will not speak so disparagingly of the charms of the fairer sex…”
Before Neal could inflict on them a recitation of romantic poetry best to remain the provenance of troubadours, Kel interrupted, hurling her handkerchief at Owen, as she ordered him, “Wipe your chin. It’s covered in juice.”
“Now you’re acting like a girl.” Despite this complaint, Owen obligingly swiped the juice from her chin.
Fond exasperation for her friend welling within her, Kel lobbed an apple at Owen’s head, which he ducked and caught with a raised hand, crunching into it with every sign of contentment.
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!