Cold- Hornblower drabble
Cold
by Lokei
Universe: Hornblower
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine, and CSF should really treat his women better.
Author's Note: I had a half-inch of ice on every surface of my car this morning. I decided Maria was dealing with weather too.
- - - -
The port is damp and frigid in a way no one but a new wife newly left can truly appreciate. The wind bites through the thin and thinning layers of Maria's dress, and whips her roughened cheeks to a rosiness which only the oblivious could attribute to happiness. She bites her lips to keep them from splitting as she tries out another smile and wave to his departing back, to his shoulders set firmly forward, to the eyes that won't look back for hers.
She thinks the cold will settle into her bones and stay that way until spring.
The snap of sails and the distancing yells of the sailors carry on the salt-frozen air and she thinks perhaps the thaw will take longer after all.
It isn't his fault he had to leave so soon, not his fault that a captain so bright and brave should be wanted right away by the Admirals and all, not his fault that the strains of putting out to sea abbreviated the tenderness she is sure he would have offered otherwise. Not his fault. She clutches the words to herself like a blanket to coax out their reluctant warmth, and waits until his sails are out of sight before turning away.
She takes to haunting the markets, listening to the news hawkers and reading the bulletins posted in shop and tavern windows, curious for the sounds and stories of places she hopes her husband will tell her more of when he returns. All she knows are these narrow, sea-spewn streets, familiar and dear and confining all in the same grey light. He knows blue water and high waves and a sky that goes on forever without sight of building or carriage or tree, and she wants it. There are stories hidden in the faded blue scraps she trimmed from his coat when she patched it, and she runs them between her fingers as she walks, coarse fingertips soaking up a distant sunlight until she no longer sees the clouds overhead.
by Lokei
Universe: Hornblower
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine, and CSF should really treat his women better.
Author's Note: I had a half-inch of ice on every surface of my car this morning. I decided Maria was dealing with weather too.
- - - -
The port is damp and frigid in a way no one but a new wife newly left can truly appreciate. The wind bites through the thin and thinning layers of Maria's dress, and whips her roughened cheeks to a rosiness which only the oblivious could attribute to happiness. She bites her lips to keep them from splitting as she tries out another smile and wave to his departing back, to his shoulders set firmly forward, to the eyes that won't look back for hers.
She thinks the cold will settle into her bones and stay that way until spring.
The snap of sails and the distancing yells of the sailors carry on the salt-frozen air and she thinks perhaps the thaw will take longer after all.
It isn't his fault he had to leave so soon, not his fault that a captain so bright and brave should be wanted right away by the Admirals and all, not his fault that the strains of putting out to sea abbreviated the tenderness she is sure he would have offered otherwise. Not his fault. She clutches the words to herself like a blanket to coax out their reluctant warmth, and waits until his sails are out of sight before turning away.
She takes to haunting the markets, listening to the news hawkers and reading the bulletins posted in shop and tavern windows, curious for the sounds and stories of places she hopes her husband will tell her more of when he returns. All she knows are these narrow, sea-spewn streets, familiar and dear and confining all in the same grey light. He knows blue water and high waves and a sky that goes on forever without sight of building or carriage or tree, and she wants it. There are stories hidden in the faded blue scraps she trimmed from his coat when she patched it, and she runs them between her fingers as she walks, coarse fingertips soaking up a distant sunlight until she no longer sees the clouds overhead.