Re: Distraction [2/3]
anonymous
September 25 2011, 10:40:16 UTC
Something touched his knee and he jerked, scaring the boy who’d come off the crate and closed in on him, catching him unawares.
“What?” Saren said, but the sound of his voice made him wish he hadn’t. It was lined with fear and embarrassment and everybody could hear it. It was the boy’s fault. Saren growled at him and he took a step back. Still, he didn’t look afraid.
“May I see your pistol?” the boy said. His voice was thin and Saren amended his calculation; he couldn’t have been older than five, his vocal cords still undeveloped beneath the first register.
Saren considered the request. The boy had been polite, and despite his grim expectations, didn’t ask him to “do the trick again.” So he nodded, and handed over his toy pistol, making a show of how he could unholster it without looking.
“Wow! It’s a Striker!”
“Series seven. With a recoil dampener and incendiary rounds.” Which were imaginary, but the boy was more than ready to play along, given such an impressive requisite.
“Where’d you get it? It’s awesome!”
To his credit, the boy handled the pistol with the appropriate mixture of confidence and respect. His little fingers could barely wrap around the handle, so he held it with both hands, and took aim in a direction where there were no people. Saren almost wanted to say, don’t worry, it’s just a toy, but that would have spoiled the game.
“My brother gave it to me. He’s in the Seventh Legion.” Which was no small matter, and the pride he’d woven into the words was deserved and well placed. However, the boy didn’t seem to appreciate the significance of the declaration. Instead, he said something that made Saren freeze.
“I saw your brother.”
“Where? And how would you know him?”
“Downstairs,” the boy said, struggling to extend the charger. He glanced up. “He has the… um...” and he made a gesture to describe a horn, tracking the imaginary length of it along his little fringe.
“I see.” Saren seized the opportunity to hide his confusion by taking the pistol from the boy’s fumbling hands. He extended the charger, allowed the boy to inspect it, then slid it back into place with a click that was usually much more satisfying. If Solas had already arrived, why didn’t he call? Why didn’t he come? Why…
“Are you waiting for him?” said the boy, striking the cord. “You look like you’re waiting for something.”
Saren peered into the clear green eyes, wondering if he hadn’t mistaken the boy’s age on the wrong side. How in the world could a five-year-old, or even a seven-year-old, be so perceptive? And what did it matter anyway? He handed the pistol back to the boy, thinking. Should he call? Solas didn’t like getting calls. Solas didn’t like a great many things.
Re: Distraction [3/3]
anonymous
September 25 2011, 10:42:20 UTC
But just as he was about to bring up his omni and dial the number, the boy’s father emerged from corridor A3, carried on long, hurried strides and glancing behind his shoulder. Saren absently took note of his dark-gray medium armor and the Haliat Stilleto attached to his right thigh slot. A mercenary.
“Nihlus,” the father said, snapping his fingers to indicate urgency, and the boy ran off.
Saren opened his mouth to say something, but then forgot what it was, he forgot about the boy and the father and the people around and everything as Solas appeared on the top of the escalator, scanning the crowd for the familiar face. Saren leaped from the bench and waved an eager hand, then ran forward to meet him, stopping just short of slamming into him.
Solas lowered his bag on the floor, knelt in front of Saren and studied him with a wide smile. “Spirits, how you’ve grown.”
Saren stood, waiting, and then he could wait no longer and threw himself around Solas’s neck, held him tight in a silent embrace. Solas laughed a bit, tapped his back. “There, there. It’s ok.” He allowed Saren to hang on for a few more beats, then gently pushed him away. “So what did they say?”
“Going under in a month.”
“A month?” Solas swallowed, the smile turning into a frown by degrees. “A month.”
It took Saren some seconds to process the expression. The meaning hung between them and suddenly the world became very distant, silent and bleary, filled with ghosts of unwelcome realizations.
His throat tied itself into a knot. But he didn’t want Solas to see and he was old enough now to know that Solas didn’t want to see either, so he turned to the escalator, directing attention elsewhere, away from what felt like a huge hole in his midst. Solas uttered the words then, but Saren couldn’t bear to look at him. He was counting the people who came up: an asari in a long green robe that shone all colors of the rainbow under certain angles; small suitcase, here on business. A volus, busy speaking to someone on the other side of his earpiece and gesturing wildly with his short arms. Another barefaced soldier, female, decorative piercings lining her fringe-blades. Was it the same one from the waiting area?
Which reminded him of the boy. The boy, who had a father to lift him up; the boy, who’d grow to receive the white colors of his clan; the boy, who’d never have to face the prospect of submitting to life-changing surgery alone.
The boy who didn’t give him his pistol back! Saren gasped and slapped his hip slot but of course it was empty. “Son of a...” He turned to stare in the direction of corridor A5, frustration rising in him like water in a boiling kettle, but by now they must have gone far, far beyond his reach. “I can’t believe it,” he exclaimed. “The little bastard stole my gun!”
“Saren, did you hear what I just said?”
He didn’t want to go back to that. There were more pressing matters at hand. He glanced at Desolas, no longer desperate; just angry. “Yes. It’s fine.”
“It is?”
Saren growled and threw his arms in defeat, looking back towards A5. “I can’t believe he stole my gun! Argh! If I ever get my hands on him, I’ll kill him, I swear. You just wait and see.”
Desolas stood up, shaking his head. “No use talking when you’re this way. Come on. We’re running late.” He was already walking away. Which was just as well. It gave Saren a chance to blink the blur away in the privacy of his own denial.
Re: Distraction [3/3]
anonymous
September 29 2011, 04:43:04 UTC
OP here. I'm so glad you decided to put this up because it was so cute and very well written. Makes me want to see what would happen if Saren remembered this meeting later in life, haha. Loved the fill. Thanks so much!
Distraction [Epilogue]
anonymous
September 29 2011, 08:33:15 UTC
Dear OP and lovely anons, here's a little something in a way of thanks for the kind words. :)
Saren stepped around the young soldier who was now sweating under scrutiny. Which was just as well. It was only appropriate.
“And now the sniper,” Saren said, probably for the fifteenth time, but he had to be sure. The soldier holstered his side-arm and extended the barrel of his standard issue Elanus Hammer. His arms were trembling slightly. He’d been posing for the better part of the last three hours. “Aim at me.”
“Sir?”
“Don’t make me repeat the order.”
“Yes, sir.”
Saren stood in his scope. At first, the soldier kept his free eye closed, but after a while, he opened it and studied Saren in return. It was an eye of pure emerald green. The striking white paint on the soldier’s face made the matter somewhat uncertain, though; after all, it had been almost twenty years. Saren sighed.
“You may lower your weapon. At ease.”
The soldier put away the rifle and relaxed with his hands clasped behind his back, gaze fixed on some point way behind Saren’s right shoulder.
Saren deliberated for another minute before asking the question. “Do you… remember me? And don’t lie, because I’ll know.”
The green eyes widened in surprise. His mandibles flicked this way and that, and then he forced them tightly next to his chin. He swallowed and said, “Yes, sir.”
“How old were you?”
“Five, sir. I think.”
Saren nodded. It hadn’t been his first guess, but his final estimate had been correct. Which was impressive. He had only been twelve. “But you remember anyway?”
“I remember the… um…” and the soldier tracked an imaginary horn next to his long fringe.
“I see.”
But now the soldier’s face became a study of disbelief as Saren pointed his pistol square between those green eyes. “How about this? Do you remember this?”
To his credit, the soldier’s voice did not falter. “No, sir. That was a Striker. I can’t tell the make of your um… current pistol. But I’m guessing it’s not a toy?”
And unbelievably, the soldier smiled.
“Spectre gear,” Saren muttered, distracted. He’d made a promise to Desolas that day, and he would see it fulfilled. But maybe he didn’t have to do it right away. He lowered the weapon, and the soldier’s gaze followed it, not in fear, but in envy. He’d have to watch his things around this one. “What’s your name?”
“Kryik, Sir. Nihlus Kryik.”
“Nihlus,” Saren repeated. Yes, that had been the name. “What else do you remember, Nihlus?”
And as they talked, Saren began to remember how good it felt not to be feared.
Re: Distraction [Epilogue]
anonymous
September 29 2011, 08:46:53 UTC
Not the OP, but someone who previously commented on this...
Anon, for this epilogue I will love you forever. I'm having a bad, bad day at work, it's my birthday that thankfully no one remembers and am feeling old and cranky and this managed to make me smile ear-to-ear.
Re: Distraction [Epilogue]
anonymous
September 29 2011, 09:23:41 UTC
Sad to hear your day is bad, Glad to hear you're no longer sad. :)
Happy birthday, dear anon. May it be a good year, a year to remember.
~author
PS Don't know if it will be any comfort, but when I'm feeling old, I think about all those poor kids going to school and I go, mwuahahaha! I'll never have to study again! ;)
Re: Distraction [Epilogue]
anonymous
September 29 2011, 09:36:50 UTC
Oooh, a challenge! :)
Please do go ahead with the prompt. I can't promise I'll fill, sometimes it takes ages for inspiration to strike, but I'll try. And a return fill sounds yummy! What/who do you like to write? Or maybe paint?
Re: Distraction [Epilogue]
anonymous
September 29 2011, 09:43:28 UTC
Thank _you_ for writing this. Seriously.
And I know about inspiration and how that works :) RL keeps me so busy that sometimes it takes me a month or two to finish a piece. Yes, I fail at life.
Um, I usually write turians, have been guilty of fshep/Garrus, fshep/saren mostly, have done others, too... More importantly, what do you want to read? I promise I'll give it a try.
Re: Distraction [Epilogue]
anonymous
October 4 2011, 23:15:30 UTC
FShep/Saren, you say? Ooooh, shiny! Not many fics with that pairing out there. Would you link to some of your stories? My prompt will probably go that way. :)
As for your prompt, I'm working on it. Just so you know. :)
“What?” Saren said, but the sound of his voice made him wish he hadn’t. It was lined with fear and embarrassment and everybody could hear it. It was the boy’s fault. Saren growled at him and he took a step back. Still, he didn’t look afraid.
“May I see your pistol?” the boy said. His voice was thin and Saren amended his calculation; he couldn’t have been older than five, his vocal cords still undeveloped beneath the first register.
Saren considered the request. The boy had been polite, and despite his grim expectations, didn’t ask him to “do the trick again.” So he nodded, and handed over his toy pistol, making a show of how he could unholster it without looking.
“Wow! It’s a Striker!”
“Series seven. With a recoil dampener and incendiary rounds.” Which were imaginary, but the boy was more than ready to play along, given such an impressive requisite.
“Where’d you get it? It’s awesome!”
To his credit, the boy handled the pistol with the appropriate mixture of confidence and respect. His little fingers could barely wrap around the handle, so he held it with both hands, and took aim in a direction where there were no people. Saren almost wanted to say, don’t worry, it’s just a toy, but that would have spoiled the game.
“My brother gave it to me. He’s in the Seventh Legion.” Which was no small matter, and the pride he’d woven into the words was deserved and well placed. However, the boy didn’t seem to appreciate the significance of the declaration. Instead, he said something that made Saren freeze.
“I saw your brother.”
“Where? And how would you know him?”
“Downstairs,” the boy said, struggling to extend the charger. He glanced up. “He has the… um...” and he made a gesture to describe a horn, tracking the imaginary length of it along his little fringe.
“I see.” Saren seized the opportunity to hide his confusion by taking the pistol from the boy’s fumbling hands. He extended the charger, allowed the boy to inspect it, then slid it back into place with a click that was usually much more satisfying. If Solas had already arrived, why didn’t he call? Why didn’t he come? Why…
“Are you waiting for him?” said the boy, striking the cord. “You look like you’re waiting for something.”
Saren peered into the clear green eyes, wondering if he hadn’t mistaken the boy’s age on the wrong side. How in the world could a five-year-old, or even a seven-year-old, be so perceptive? And what did it matter anyway? He handed the pistol back to the boy, thinking. Should he call? Solas didn’t like getting calls. Solas didn’t like a great many things.
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“Nihlus,” the father said, snapping his fingers to indicate urgency, and the boy ran off.
Saren opened his mouth to say something, but then forgot what it was, he forgot about the boy and the father and the people around and everything as Solas appeared on the top of the escalator, scanning the crowd for the familiar face. Saren leaped from the bench and waved an eager hand, then ran forward to meet him, stopping just short of slamming into him.
Solas lowered his bag on the floor, knelt in front of Saren and studied him with a wide smile. “Spirits, how you’ve grown.”
Saren stood, waiting, and then he could wait no longer and threw himself around Solas’s neck, held him tight in a silent embrace. Solas laughed a bit, tapped his back. “There, there. It’s ok.” He allowed Saren to hang on for a few more beats, then gently pushed him away. “So what did they say?”
“Going under in a month.”
“A month?” Solas swallowed, the smile turning into a frown by degrees. “A month.”
It took Saren some seconds to process the expression. The meaning hung between them and suddenly the world became very distant, silent and bleary, filled with ghosts of unwelcome realizations.
His throat tied itself into a knot. But he didn’t want Solas to see and he was old enough now to know that Solas didn’t want to see either, so he turned to the escalator, directing attention elsewhere, away from what felt like a huge hole in his midst. Solas uttered the words then, but Saren couldn’t bear to look at him. He was counting the people who came up: an asari in a long green robe that shone all colors of the rainbow under certain angles; small suitcase, here on business. A volus, busy speaking to someone on the other side of his earpiece and gesturing wildly with his short arms. Another barefaced soldier, female, decorative piercings lining her fringe-blades. Was it the same one from the waiting area?
Which reminded him of the boy. The boy, who had a father to lift him up; the boy, who’d grow to receive the white colors of his clan; the boy, who’d never have to face the prospect of submitting to life-changing surgery alone.
The boy who didn’t give him his pistol back! Saren gasped and slapped his hip slot but of course it was empty. “Son of a...” He turned to stare in the direction of corridor A5, frustration rising in him like water in a boiling kettle, but by now they must have gone far, far beyond his reach. “I can’t believe it,” he exclaimed. “The little bastard stole my gun!”
“Saren, did you hear what I just said?”
He didn’t want to go back to that. There were more pressing matters at hand. He glanced at Desolas, no longer desperate; just angry. “Yes. It’s fine.”
“It is?”
Saren growled and threw his arms in defeat, looking back towards A5. “I can’t believe he stole my gun! Argh! If I ever get my hands on him, I’ll kill him, I swear. You just wait and see.”
Desolas stood up, shaking his head. “No use talking when you’re this way. Come on. We’re running late.” He was already walking away. Which was just as well. It gave Saren a chance to blink the blur away in the privacy of his own denial.
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The interaction between Saren and his brother is touching...and Nihlus is a smart little thieving brat :)
Perfect. So glad you posted it.
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But damn, I should have reposted the prompt in Part VI instead of replying here. The meme is moving too fast for me.
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Of course that's the way turian children play :) Those two are cute beyond words.
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But..forgive me if I'm dense...
what is it that Solas said that Saren refused to hear?
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Great job, by the way. I love how the interaction is so brief yet so meaningful.
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Saren stepped around the young soldier who was now sweating under scrutiny. Which was just as well. It was only appropriate.
“And now the sniper,” Saren said, probably for the fifteenth time, but he had to be sure. The soldier holstered his side-arm and extended the barrel of his standard issue Elanus Hammer. His arms were trembling slightly. He’d been posing for the better part of the last three hours. “Aim at me.”
“Sir?”
“Don’t make me repeat the order.”
“Yes, sir.”
Saren stood in his scope. At first, the soldier kept his free eye closed, but after a while, he opened it and studied Saren in return. It was an eye of pure emerald green. The striking white paint on the soldier’s face made the matter somewhat uncertain, though; after all, it had been almost twenty years. Saren sighed.
“You may lower your weapon. At ease.”
The soldier put away the rifle and relaxed with his hands clasped behind his back, gaze fixed on some point way behind Saren’s right shoulder.
Saren deliberated for another minute before asking the question. “Do you… remember me? And don’t lie, because I’ll know.”
The green eyes widened in surprise. His mandibles flicked this way and that, and then he forced them tightly next to his chin. He swallowed and said, “Yes, sir.”
“How old were you?”
“Five, sir. I think.”
Saren nodded. It hadn’t been his first guess, but his final estimate had been correct. Which was impressive. He had only been twelve. “But you remember anyway?”
“I remember the… um…” and the soldier tracked an imaginary horn next to his long fringe.
“I see.”
But now the soldier’s face became a study of disbelief as Saren pointed his pistol square between those green eyes. “How about this? Do you remember this?”
To his credit, the soldier’s voice did not falter. “No, sir. That was a Striker. I can’t tell the make of your um… current pistol. But I’m guessing it’s not a toy?”
And unbelievably, the soldier smiled.
“Spectre gear,” Saren muttered, distracted. He’d made a promise to Desolas that day, and he would see it fulfilled. But maybe he didn’t have to do it right away. He lowered the weapon, and the soldier’s gaze followed it, not in fear, but in envy. He’d have to watch his things around this one. “What’s your name?”
“Kryik, Sir. Nihlus Kryik.”
“Nihlus,” Saren repeated. Yes, that had been the name. “What else do you remember, Nihlus?”
And as they talked, Saren began to remember how good it felt not to be feared.
Reply
Anon, for this epilogue I will love you forever.
I'm having a bad, bad day at work, it's my birthday that thankfully no one remembers and am feeling old and cranky and this managed to make me smile ear-to-ear.
Reply
Glad to hear you're no longer sad. :)
Happy birthday, dear anon. May it be a good year, a year to remember.
~author
PS
Don't know if it will be any comfort, but when I'm feeling old, I think about all those poor kids going to school and I go, mwuahahaha! I'll never have to study again! ;)
Reply
Please don't tell me that Nihlus will pinch Saren's Spectre pistol at some point.
(Don't tell me. Write it. Please.)
Seriously, I love this. There is so little playful fun between these two that this is a rare treat.
I'd prompt you for something else, funny with these two if you'd allow it...
Would offer internet, cookies, my soul and maybe return fill for it...
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Please do go ahead with the prompt. I can't promise I'll fill, sometimes it takes ages for inspiration to strike, but I'll try. And a return fill sounds yummy! What/who do you like to write? Or maybe paint?
So glad you liked this. Thank you. <3
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And I know about inspiration and how that works :) RL keeps me so busy that sometimes it takes me a month or two to finish a piece. Yes, I fail at life.
Um, I usually write turians, have been guilty of fshep/Garrus, fshep/saren mostly, have done others, too...
More importantly, what do you want to read? I promise I'll give it a try.
I'll put up a prompt. :)
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As for your prompt, I'm working on it. Just so you know. :)
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although I probably should update it at some point...
I seem to have a thing for turians *cough* but I will do my best to give whatever you want to see a try.
And the knowledge that you're writing makes me happy :) Very much so.
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