weekly prompt
Kiwi #22. Dressed to Kill
Story : knights & necromancers
Rating : PG
Timeframe : somewhere nearer the end?
Word Count : ~750
I don't actually have any clue what the context for this is or if it's even canon, it's just what came to me for the weekly prompt. I think for now I'm going to do a bit more of this - just writing what comes and using that to figure out how I want to shape that ugly undecided end portion of my canon.
Lyssa had one sleek, black boot firmly planted on the vanity. The slender hilt of a knife protruded from a sheath against the inside of her ankle, the black leather on its grip barely distinguishable from that of the boot. A curtain of blood-red satin hung over her knee, an extra outer layer to her skirt, beneath which she was securing additional blades. Rune had seen her slip a few more into the bodice earlier in the process, but he’d be hard pressed to say exactly where they’d disappeared to.
“Are you about ready yet?” he asked from the doorway.
“These things take time if you want them done right.” She tucked yet another blade in place inside her skirt. “What’s gotten into you?”
“I’ve been waiting an hour for you do get dressed for a party.” Rune settled for a moment against the doorframe before thinking better of it, hastily inspecting and straightening his stiff sleeves as he righted himself. “I’m starting to feel like I’m trapped in some awful cliche. Except for the part where your idea of proper attire involves a couple dozen blades,” he added, gesturing the array of weapons still on the counter.
“Cliche, huh?” She let the skirt fall back into place, patting herself down as she turned to face him. “So, what do you think?” She cocked her head, her hands still pressed to her breasts and fixed him with an exaggerated pout. “Do these knives make me look fat?”
Rune groaned. “Lyssa, this is not the time.”
She laughed, but her hands and her eyes still travelled the seams of her dress, searching for telltale signs of the arsenal beneath. “Seriously, though. Are they showing? I’ve never had to do this with a ball gown before.”
Rune looked her over as well.While not the form-fitting affair he would have expected to see Lyssa in, it was nonetheless flattering, and, more importantly, not so much as a sliver of steel nor a single knife-shaped bulge was showing. “If I didn’t know you so well, I wouldn’t suspect a thing.”
“Well, let’s hope no one in there knows me as well as you do then.”
“Er, yes, let’s.” He found his hand drifting to the back of his neck as he tried to banish from his thoughts the question of just how many of Lyssa’s peers knew her quite intimately and wondered why this should still bother him.
Thankfully, Lyssa’s attention was on her own reflection in the vanity’s mirror and the state of her hair rather than on him, so she didn’t see how her comment made him squirm.
“So, where’s yours?” she said suddenly, snapping Rune out of his thoughts.
“My what?”
“Your sword,” she said, still not looking his way as she tugged a comb through her hair. “Hear you carry one now.”
He couldn’t help but wonder if she was mocking him. “It’s strictly for show,” he said stiffly.
“Not what I heard.”
Rune caught her grinning at the mirror and realized she could see his reflection scowling at her from behind her own. “It’s been a good show then,” he said. “Regardless, I don’t think I should be walking into a hall full of nobles with one on my hip. Hell, I don’t think I should be walking into a hall full of nobles at all.”
Lyssa’s eyes narrowed as she gathered her hair and thrust the first pin into it as she had the knives into her dress before. “After that stunt you and Ski pulled, it’s the least you can do.”
“Should you even be walking into a hall full of nobles at this point? I mean, I know they invited you and all, but-”
“Rune.” She finally turned to face him, and head to toe she was pinned, polished and wrapped in satin until she looked every bit the part that a woman with her title should, and Rune stopped short under her gaze. “There is a reason,” she said, laying a hand on his arm, “that I’ve got more knives in this dress than you do in your kitchen.”
Rune swallowed hard at the notion of her drawing those knives in the middle of a crowded dance floor. Blades, he’d come to firmly believe, were much better when they were for show.
“Got you too,” she added, giving his arm a pat. “So I shouldn’t need ‘em anyway. Now, can we get going?”
“You’re asking me?” He laughed, though somewhat uneasily, as he crooked his arm and she laced hers through it. “I’ve been ready for ages.”
Story : knights & necromancers
Rating : PG
Timeframe : somewhere nearer the end?
Word Count : ~750
I don't actually have any clue what the context for this is or if it's even canon, it's just what came to me for the weekly prompt. I think for now I'm going to do a bit more of this - just writing what comes and using that to figure out how I want to shape that ugly undecided end portion of my canon.
Lyssa had one sleek, black boot firmly planted on the vanity. The slender hilt of a knife protruded from a sheath against the inside of her ankle, the black leather on its grip barely distinguishable from that of the boot. A curtain of blood-red satin hung over her knee, an extra outer layer to her skirt, beneath which she was securing additional blades. Rune had seen her slip a few more into the bodice earlier in the process, but he’d be hard pressed to say exactly where they’d disappeared to.
“Are you about ready yet?” he asked from the doorway.
“These things take time if you want them done right.” She tucked yet another blade in place inside her skirt. “What’s gotten into you?”
“I’ve been waiting an hour for you do get dressed for a party.” Rune settled for a moment against the doorframe before thinking better of it, hastily inspecting and straightening his stiff sleeves as he righted himself. “I’m starting to feel like I’m trapped in some awful cliche. Except for the part where your idea of proper attire involves a couple dozen blades,” he added, gesturing the array of weapons still on the counter.
“Cliche, huh?” She let the skirt fall back into place, patting herself down as she turned to face him. “So, what do you think?” She cocked her head, her hands still pressed to her breasts and fixed him with an exaggerated pout. “Do these knives make me look fat?”
Rune groaned. “Lyssa, this is not the time.”
She laughed, but her hands and her eyes still travelled the seams of her dress, searching for telltale signs of the arsenal beneath. “Seriously, though. Are they showing? I’ve never had to do this with a ball gown before.”
Rune looked her over as well.While not the form-fitting affair he would have expected to see Lyssa in, it was nonetheless flattering, and, more importantly, not so much as a sliver of steel nor a single knife-shaped bulge was showing. “If I didn’t know you so well, I wouldn’t suspect a thing.”
“Well, let’s hope no one in there knows me as well as you do then.”
“Er, yes, let’s.” He found his hand drifting to the back of his neck as he tried to banish from his thoughts the question of just how many of Lyssa’s peers knew her quite intimately and wondered why this should still bother him.
Thankfully, Lyssa’s attention was on her own reflection in the vanity’s mirror and the state of her hair rather than on him, so she didn’t see how her comment made him squirm.
“So, where’s yours?” she said suddenly, snapping Rune out of his thoughts.
“My what?”
“Your sword,” she said, still not looking his way as she tugged a comb through her hair. “Hear you carry one now.”
He couldn’t help but wonder if she was mocking him. “It’s strictly for show,” he said stiffly.
“Not what I heard.”
Rune caught her grinning at the mirror and realized she could see his reflection scowling at her from behind her own. “It’s been a good show then,” he said. “Regardless, I don’t think I should be walking into a hall full of nobles with one on my hip. Hell, I don’t think I should be walking into a hall full of nobles at all.”
Lyssa’s eyes narrowed as she gathered her hair and thrust the first pin into it as she had the knives into her dress before. “After that stunt you and Ski pulled, it’s the least you can do.”
“Should you even be walking into a hall full of nobles at this point? I mean, I know they invited you and all, but-”
“Rune.” She finally turned to face him, and head to toe she was pinned, polished and wrapped in satin until she looked every bit the part that a woman with her title should, and Rune stopped short under her gaze. “There is a reason,” she said, laying a hand on his arm, “that I’ve got more knives in this dress than you do in your kitchen.”
Rune swallowed hard at the notion of her drawing those knives in the middle of a crowded dance floor. Blades, he’d come to firmly believe, were much better when they were for show.
“Got you too,” she added, giving his arm a pat. “So I shouldn’t need ‘em anyway. Now, can we get going?”
“You’re asking me?” He laughed, though somewhat uneasily, as he crooked his arm and she laced hers through it. “I’ve been ready for ages.”