what to do what to do
Ok - I have a decision to make - and I said to myself, "Self," I said, "What if I have a bunch of perfect strangers make it for me?"
Fortunately, I know a group of very nearly perfect strangers ( Read more... )
Fortunately, I know a group of very nearly perfect strangers ( Read more... )
Reputation Part 2
Ronon had deliberately positioned himself to wait for Kell in the shadow at the side of the Gathering Hall; the rest of the parade ground was flooded with light.
(The next day, it was said that if the Commandant and the Mother of Sateda wanted the sister-soldiers to Quicken on Winterfair Night, they might do well to dim the lights around the Gathering Hall. A man unused to Choosing or wooing his partner could use all the help he could get.)
Watch Light glared from the corners of every building, and the First Moon poured silver across most of the remaining space. There was no mistaking. The sister-soldier in front of him was Ring-Eyed.
She was also impatient.
"I said, it's an odd post you're standing on Winterfair Night. Why aren't you dancing? Are you lost too?"
Ronon cleared his throat, glad that the crack in his voice had disappeared, and wishing his tangled tongue had gone with it.
"Waiting." He didn't want to name Kell or, worse, say that he was too young for the feast
She didn't look much older than he was, though. Sixteen maybe, with dark tangled hair, and slightly mussed clothing. A Song Maker might have compared her skin to the silver of the moon, but Ronon thought she was pale like the Watch Light. Sort of green. He wondered if she might have been sick.
"Waiting for the crowd to go away?" she asked, filling out his answer for him. She leaned against the wall. "It was too loud, so I snuck away. There was another door somewhere."
Ronon nodded in reply. What could he say? She was a Ring-Eye!
The situation wasn't companionable in the least. He breathed shallowly to keep from brushing against her without permission, terrified that just by standing next to her he had assumed responsibility for her protection, and worried that Kell (or anyone else) might see them. He'd be on punishment detail for the rest of his Service.
Also, he was certain now that she had been sick.
He glanced at her sideways. She really was beautiful. And lost. And unwell. He tried to suggest that she allow him to guide her to the front of the Hall, but he tripped on the words. She eyed him, and the hand he had extended to point the way.
"Oh. All right. You look quite strong." she said.
And then she kissed him.
*********
this is continued in part 3, below, because it turns out that I completely misunderstood the definition of "ficlet" - and am WAY over the character limit on this.
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Her breath was sour against his face, but her hair slipped and tangled over his hands when he lifted them to push at her, and he he ended up pulling instead. Her body squashed against his. Heat flared over him. He dropped a hand to her waist, squeezing her tightly enough to make her squeak as he hardened. He tried to remember what he had learned about Discipline and Order and Respect and Knots. She wiggled against him and he stopped thinking at all.
Then the door banged open next to them, and Ronon heard Kell's voice.
They were lucky. The door caught itself on a stopper instead of slamming against them and the wall. The were hidden by its bulk, and at last achieved a meeting of the minds as they froze in simultaneous shock.
Sergeant Galen's voice came hard on top of Kell's and Ronon almost groaned in horror. Kell might help him get the Ring Eye safely back where she belonged, but if he did, Galen would go beyond punishment detail for both of them. He'd probably bring Ronon up on formal charges, just to spite Kell.
The two officers were arguing in harsh whispers now, on the other side of the heavy door. The Ring Eyed girl squirmed around him, wedging herself between Ronon and the wall, bringing his attention back to his own body like a shot. She pushed her face against the space near the hinge and peered through it while Ronon arched awkwardly above, trying not to imagine how good it would feel just to relax against her.
Kell was swearing in a low-voiced angry torrent, saying that they both needed rope marks to show in the morning. Then Galen said "Please" and "Don't", and Kell swung at him. Viciously. Illegally. Striking his superior officer, his own face a wash of fear and anger and loss.
Ronon thought about punishment detail, and charges, and dismissal without Citizenship.
Galen caught Kell's fist and jerked him forward, their bodies crashing together on the door.
Ronon thought about running, pulling the girl away and disappearing. Refusing to be made a witness at Kell's Trial.
Galen grunted with the impact of Kell's body, and Kell made a noise more like a sob than a curse.
The Ring-Eyed girl hissed with surprise and arched up into Ronon's body. Ronon made a noise like the one that Kell had made.
Galen caught Kell's open mouth with his own, and Ronon saw his tongue push inside and his hands tighten in Kell's hair.
The girl gave a shriek of horror and pulled away from Ronon. He took a step after her, trying to catch her shoulder, pushing against the open door, awkward with the heat pounding between his legs.
The door jerked against Galen and Kell, and Kell pulled away, meeting Ronon's eyes a second before he flattened Galen with a single blow.
For the first time in his life, Ronon ran. He pulled the girl with him, towards the front of the Hall, and didn't look back.
****
The next day, much was said about Ronon and about the Ring Eyed girl, and the way he had delivered her back to the party, flushed and panting. He was the subject of admiration and anger and awe.
Much was said about Kell and the Commandant of the Sister-Soldiers. He had the rope-marks to show for a night enviable passion, and a strong patron, well-disposed towards him, in a place of power.
Nothing was said about the bruise on Galen's face. Not every man could be fortunate on Winterfair Night. Not even a man of good reputation.
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