Fic: Symbolon
Title: Symbolon
Word Count: 488
Rated: PG-13 for sexual innuendo.
Spoilers/Setting: WSS: Fetal Attraction
Characters: Chiana, D'Argo, Noranti
Summary: Every hunting, hungering lover is half of a knucklebone, wooer of a meaning that is inseparable from its absence.
Disclaimer: Farscape and its characters belong to The Jim Henson Company, and not to me.
Setting: Filler for WSS: Fetal Attraction.
Rating & Warnings: PG-13 I suppose, for sexual innuendo.
Dedication: For Michael1812, who sparked this with his recent comments in Pip’s Palace.
Author’s Notes: This was a quickie but feedback is still very much appreciated.
“Every hunting, hungering lover is half of a knucklebone, wooer of a meaning that is inseparable from its absence. The moment when we understand these things - when we see what we are projected on a screen of what we could be - is invariably a moment of wrench and arrest.” - Anne Carson
SYMBOLON
There is a smudge on the wall behind Chiana, shaped like a bird in flight; when she rocks, soft and slow, against the Kalish, it rises above the swell of her hip and carves a place for itself in D’Argo’s chest.
And he aches. Trembles.
The old woman drifts but does not pass between them. She stills her hands, redolent with bitter herbs and loam and spit, and tilts her head to see as D’Argo does.
Chiana murmurs a proposition and the Kalish grazes the curve of her cheek, her breast, his fingers caressing the air. The smudge hides behind her angled knee. D’Argo studies her response; holds Chiana in one heart, Lolaan in the other, and wonders what else he does not know.
“What news, healer?”
Noranti says, “None yet.” Kind but unyielding, as though he is a child. “We’ll just have to wait.”
Chiana says, “Well, is it a very big ship?”, and laughs, low in her throat. Her scent pierces the old woman’s and it takes D’Argo a moment to understand the pain he feels is not jealousy, but joy.
The Kalish rests his arm on Chiana’s knee, his fingers tangling with hers, brushing against her thigh, and says, “Size is not as important as speed and maneuverability.”
“Oh yeah? That’s what they all say.” But she touches him too, rocks again, and D’Argo moves to leave.
Noranti places both hands on the small of his back and pushes him toward Chiana.
D’Argo swells. Smiles. Says, “Excuse me,” because he isn’t supposed to know her here and he can’t very well say I love you, Chiana, I love you and I’ve only just realized what that means, but he can say, “Hey, Nebari girl. How about I buy you a drink?”
“Um, I was here first,” the Kalish says. He’s cool and disdainful and Chiana does not disentangle herself, does not speak; but she smiles too, and that is enough for D’Argo.
“Your point?”
The Kalish considers the Luxan’s size, the Nebari’s silence, and makes the prudent choice.
Chiana closes her eyes as D’Argo fills the space closest to her, and lets herself rest. He breathes her in, breathes out, “Much better,” and she thinks she has never missed him so much, never loved him so much.
“Rygel’s scam seems to be working,” he says.
Chiana looks at him then, her fingers fluttering about his braids. “So you know.”
“One of the voices on the medical distress transmission was Sikozu’s,” D’Argo says, “so we played along.”
“Smart Luxan.” She closes her eyes again and nuzzles against him, her mouth angles for a kiss and then changes its mind. He lays his hands on her legs, palms up, wrists bare. She bites back a sob and covers his hands with her own.
“You know,” D’Argo says, “I have been told I have a very big ship.”
Chiana shrieks with laughter, claps a hand over her mouth.
Word Count: 488
Rated: PG-13 for sexual innuendo.
Spoilers/Setting: WSS: Fetal Attraction
Characters: Chiana, D'Argo, Noranti
Summary: Every hunting, hungering lover is half of a knucklebone, wooer of a meaning that is inseparable from its absence.
Disclaimer: Farscape and its characters belong to The Jim Henson Company, and not to me.
Setting: Filler for WSS: Fetal Attraction.
Rating & Warnings: PG-13 I suppose, for sexual innuendo.
Dedication: For Michael1812, who sparked this with his recent comments in Pip’s Palace.
Author’s Notes: This was a quickie but feedback is still very much appreciated.
“Every hunting, hungering lover is half of a knucklebone, wooer of a meaning that is inseparable from its absence. The moment when we understand these things - when we see what we are projected on a screen of what we could be - is invariably a moment of wrench and arrest.” - Anne Carson
SYMBOLON
There is a smudge on the wall behind Chiana, shaped like a bird in flight; when she rocks, soft and slow, against the Kalish, it rises above the swell of her hip and carves a place for itself in D’Argo’s chest.
And he aches. Trembles.
The old woman drifts but does not pass between them. She stills her hands, redolent with bitter herbs and loam and spit, and tilts her head to see as D’Argo does.
Chiana murmurs a proposition and the Kalish grazes the curve of her cheek, her breast, his fingers caressing the air. The smudge hides behind her angled knee. D’Argo studies her response; holds Chiana in one heart, Lolaan in the other, and wonders what else he does not know.
“What news, healer?”
Noranti says, “None yet.” Kind but unyielding, as though he is a child. “We’ll just have to wait.”
Chiana says, “Well, is it a very big ship?”, and laughs, low in her throat. Her scent pierces the old woman’s and it takes D’Argo a moment to understand the pain he feels is not jealousy, but joy.
The Kalish rests his arm on Chiana’s knee, his fingers tangling with hers, brushing against her thigh, and says, “Size is not as important as speed and maneuverability.”
“Oh yeah? That’s what they all say.” But she touches him too, rocks again, and D’Argo moves to leave.
Noranti places both hands on the small of his back and pushes him toward Chiana.
D’Argo swells. Smiles. Says, “Excuse me,” because he isn’t supposed to know her here and he can’t very well say I love you, Chiana, I love you and I’ve only just realized what that means, but he can say, “Hey, Nebari girl. How about I buy you a drink?”
“Um, I was here first,” the Kalish says. He’s cool and disdainful and Chiana does not disentangle herself, does not speak; but she smiles too, and that is enough for D’Argo.
“Your point?”
The Kalish considers the Luxan’s size, the Nebari’s silence, and makes the prudent choice.
Chiana closes her eyes as D’Argo fills the space closest to her, and lets herself rest. He breathes her in, breathes out, “Much better,” and she thinks she has never missed him so much, never loved him so much.
“Rygel’s scam seems to be working,” he says.
Chiana looks at him then, her fingers fluttering about his braids. “So you know.”
“One of the voices on the medical distress transmission was Sikozu’s,” D’Argo says, “so we played along.”
“Smart Luxan.” She closes her eyes again and nuzzles against him, her mouth angles for a kiss and then changes its mind. He lays his hands on her legs, palms up, wrists bare. She bites back a sob and covers his hands with her own.
“You know,” D’Argo says, “I have been told I have a very big ship.”
Chiana shrieks with laughter, claps a hand over her mouth.