Challenge #1 Fiction Entry
Title: All the World's a Stage
Challenge Theme & Number: #1: Idle Conversation
Characters/Pairings included: main six
Word Count: 460
Rating: K
Warnings: overblown metaphors XD
Notes: In-game. Concrit and other feedback welcome.
"Take that!"
"Ow!"
"Oh, Penelo, I didn't see you there."
"No kidding. Vaan, when are you going to grow up? This isn't a game, you know, you need to be careful."
"Penelo-"
"Hush, both of you, and settle down. The night is not growing any longer, and some of us would like to sleep."
"Are you not used to spending the evening hours counting your booty and laying plans?"
"Well, Princess, since my booty consists of a kidnapped exile and a ring, there's not much to count, is there?"
"And the laying of plans?"
"The plan is laid: we go to the Garif."
"Indeed, Fran has the way of it. Your plans, Princess, remember?"
"Yes, of course, don't be foolish. You think I would forget what I said so easily?"
"The damsel in distress often finds herself overwhelmed."
"And needs a leading man to save her, no doubt."
"Or steal her. Again, not a plan of my devising."
"No, yours would likely include a more dramatic exit."
Balthier raised an eyebrow, observing her by the light of the fading fire. For a moment, the only sounds were the steady rasp of Basch's whetstone as he silently tended his weapons, the rattle of stones as Vaan shifted restlessly and swatted another insect, the creak of leather as Penelo slid off her heavy boots. Fran, having spoken, lay still; her eyes gleamed redder in the firelight as she watched Balthier, waiting for the comment she knew was coming.
Ashe lay with her back to the pirate. Her fair hair shone brightly against the dark blanket that twitched across her arm as her hands knotted and twisted in the fabric. Balthier's gaze traced the curve of her body beneath the thin covering, from small delicate feet to rounded hip to white shoulder pointed at the night sky. His expression softened, habitual arrogance melting into a genuine, if rueful, smile.
"I think, Princess, that I will not be exiting the stage before the last act is complete, and the damsel is no longer in distress, but again enthroned in her palace."
Ashe stiffened, hands no longer wringing, then relaxed completely. "Good," she murmured. "I would hate for the leading man to bow out in the middle of the production."
"Little chance of that. I'd get no acclaim that way." He grinned at her back, then raised his gaze to meet Basch's amused expression. Shaking his head, the older man went back to his work, content to let the two of them play their roles.
The dark curtain of night fell around them as the fire burned low, and the six of them took their rest beneath the glittering stars of the plains. The next act would begin soon enough, with the dawn.
Challenge Theme & Number: #1: Idle Conversation
Characters/Pairings included: main six
Word Count: 460
Rating: K
Warnings: overblown metaphors XD
Notes: In-game. Concrit and other feedback welcome.
"Take that!"
"Ow!"
"Oh, Penelo, I didn't see you there."
"No kidding. Vaan, when are you going to grow up? This isn't a game, you know, you need to be careful."
"Penelo-"
"Hush, both of you, and settle down. The night is not growing any longer, and some of us would like to sleep."
"Are you not used to spending the evening hours counting your booty and laying plans?"
"Well, Princess, since my booty consists of a kidnapped exile and a ring, there's not much to count, is there?"
"And the laying of plans?"
"The plan is laid: we go to the Garif."
"Indeed, Fran has the way of it. Your plans, Princess, remember?"
"Yes, of course, don't be foolish. You think I would forget what I said so easily?"
"The damsel in distress often finds herself overwhelmed."
"And needs a leading man to save her, no doubt."
"Or steal her. Again, not a plan of my devising."
"No, yours would likely include a more dramatic exit."
Balthier raised an eyebrow, observing her by the light of the fading fire. For a moment, the only sounds were the steady rasp of Basch's whetstone as he silently tended his weapons, the rattle of stones as Vaan shifted restlessly and swatted another insect, the creak of leather as Penelo slid off her heavy boots. Fran, having spoken, lay still; her eyes gleamed redder in the firelight as she watched Balthier, waiting for the comment she knew was coming.
Ashe lay with her back to the pirate. Her fair hair shone brightly against the dark blanket that twitched across her arm as her hands knotted and twisted in the fabric. Balthier's gaze traced the curve of her body beneath the thin covering, from small delicate feet to rounded hip to white shoulder pointed at the night sky. His expression softened, habitual arrogance melting into a genuine, if rueful, smile.
"I think, Princess, that I will not be exiting the stage before the last act is complete, and the damsel is no longer in distress, but again enthroned in her palace."
Ashe stiffened, hands no longer wringing, then relaxed completely. "Good," she murmured. "I would hate for the leading man to bow out in the middle of the production."
"Little chance of that. I'd get no acclaim that way." He grinned at her back, then raised his gaze to meet Basch's amused expression. Shaking his head, the older man went back to his work, content to let the two of them play their roles.
The dark curtain of night fell around them as the fire burned low, and the six of them took their rest beneath the glittering stars of the plains. The next act would begin soon enough, with the dawn.