rocky road and cookies 'n' cream with fresh peaches and pineapple
Story: Timeless { backstory | index }
Title: Grounded
Rating: G
Challenge: Rocky Road #20: on the floor/ground, Cookies ‘n’ Cream #2: fall
Toppings/Extras: fresh peaches, fresh pineapple
Wordcount: 492
Summary: Lord Ashdown in a rare moment of total defeat.
Notes: My poor baby! Peaches: It’s a good day to keep a low profile. Pineapple: “The Tide Is High”, Atomic Kitten.
Lord Ashdown choked and coughed as he clawed his way out of the water, head hanging low, knees of his breeches sinking into mucky shingle on the tiny beach of the small Caribbean island he had been dragged to by the currents. A saving grace-of sorts. Now he just had to figure out some way to continue not being dead.
Cuts flecked his cheeks and hands from the sharp, darting flints of gravel that he had been crushed into by the waves, seaweed was draped over sopping wet velvet and his wig was long gone. Seawater dripped from the end of his pointed nose and pain roared over his body, some as shallow as cuts to the skin, others deep bruises that sank to the bone-all underswept by a relentless burning in his lungs. Licking his salt-dried lips, he finally looked up from the warping shingle and let his gaze fall to the ocean behind him.
Dark smoke was still coiling into the atmosphere and for just a moment Ashdown mourned the loss of the Enigma. She had been a bloody good ship. His head hurt, still spiralling from the explosion and the tumble in the ocean, and he realised that his arms were shaking under his weight.
He almost gave up and let himself fully collapse onto the beach, face against the gritty sand. Almost.
Instead he reached for some hitherto undiscovered reserve of physical strength and managed to pull himself into something of a sitting position. It was not as dignified as he would have liked-legs out, expression shell-shocked, staring out towards the sea-but it would have to do. He needed to think.
Obviously, he’d become a little too cocky. That was never good. He needed to reign himself in. He was a brilliant tactician, he knew without a hint of modesty, but he was not invincible nor-though he was loath to think it-infallible.
Blearily, he glanced to his left-hand side, where by all means Isaac Prowse was meant to be. It felt strange not having him there. It felt unsafe.
Ashdown wasn’t unduly worried. People would be looking for him. He was an important man. Drawing up his knees and beginning to shiver more from cold than the strain his crawl out of the sucking waves had caused, he hoped that nobody of any importance would first discover him, because he was quite sure that he really wasn’t looking his best. Truth be told, he rather suspected that he looked an absolute mess.
He peeled a strip of seaweed from his aching shoulder and threw it down against the pebbles with a slap.
What a royal mess this is, he thought moodily.
It got messier.
“Evenin’, sirrah!”
When he heard Jacob Graham’s cheerful voice bouncing along the beach, Ashdown put his head in his hands and didn’t take it out again.
Maybe if he just stayed still, the horrid man would go away.
Title: Grounded
Rating: G
Challenge: Rocky Road #20: on the floor/ground, Cookies ‘n’ Cream #2: fall
Toppings/Extras: fresh peaches, fresh pineapple
Wordcount: 492
Summary: Lord Ashdown in a rare moment of total defeat.
Notes: My poor baby! Peaches: It’s a good day to keep a low profile. Pineapple: “The Tide Is High”, Atomic Kitten.
Lord Ashdown choked and coughed as he clawed his way out of the water, head hanging low, knees of his breeches sinking into mucky shingle on the tiny beach of the small Caribbean island he had been dragged to by the currents. A saving grace-of sorts. Now he just had to figure out some way to continue not being dead.
Cuts flecked his cheeks and hands from the sharp, darting flints of gravel that he had been crushed into by the waves, seaweed was draped over sopping wet velvet and his wig was long gone. Seawater dripped from the end of his pointed nose and pain roared over his body, some as shallow as cuts to the skin, others deep bruises that sank to the bone-all underswept by a relentless burning in his lungs. Licking his salt-dried lips, he finally looked up from the warping shingle and let his gaze fall to the ocean behind him.
Dark smoke was still coiling into the atmosphere and for just a moment Ashdown mourned the loss of the Enigma. She had been a bloody good ship. His head hurt, still spiralling from the explosion and the tumble in the ocean, and he realised that his arms were shaking under his weight.
He almost gave up and let himself fully collapse onto the beach, face against the gritty sand. Almost.
Instead he reached for some hitherto undiscovered reserve of physical strength and managed to pull himself into something of a sitting position. It was not as dignified as he would have liked-legs out, expression shell-shocked, staring out towards the sea-but it would have to do. He needed to think.
Obviously, he’d become a little too cocky. That was never good. He needed to reign himself in. He was a brilliant tactician, he knew without a hint of modesty, but he was not invincible nor-though he was loath to think it-infallible.
Blearily, he glanced to his left-hand side, where by all means Isaac Prowse was meant to be. It felt strange not having him there. It felt unsafe.
Ashdown wasn’t unduly worried. People would be looking for him. He was an important man. Drawing up his knees and beginning to shiver more from cold than the strain his crawl out of the sucking waves had caused, he hoped that nobody of any importance would first discover him, because he was quite sure that he really wasn’t looking his best. Truth be told, he rather suspected that he looked an absolute mess.
He peeled a strip of seaweed from his aching shoulder and threw it down against the pebbles with a slap.
What a royal mess this is, he thought moodily.
It got messier.
“Evenin’, sirrah!”
When he heard Jacob Graham’s cheerful voice bouncing along the beach, Ashdown put his head in his hands and didn’t take it out again.
Maybe if he just stayed still, the horrid man would go away.