Weekly Prompt
Pomegranate #22. Priorities and
Soft Serve 25/50 - Pistachio #19. Prayer
Story : knights & necromancers
Rating : PG
Timeframe : 1275 (follows this)
Word Count : ~1600
The hotel room was quiet, save the soft, steady breathing from the bed where Shamino lay, and dark but for the flickering candles on the narrow side table beneath the window where Lyssa sat. Laid out in a circle, the six points of red, blue, white, black, gold and green stood watch as the gods over the field of scattered stone tokens in their midst.
“Lyssa?” came the tentative call from the darkness behind her, confirming her suspicions that the boy had only been feigning sleep.
“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”
“Don’t give me that.” The mattress groaned as he shifted himself towards the foot of the bed. “You obviously can’t sleep either.”
“Sleep’s overrated.” She reached for the bottle of wine that stood beside the circle of candles as if it too were a god.
“But you just said-”
Lyssa drank straight from the bottle and frowned at the dwindling remainder as she placed it back on the table. “Since when,” she said, leaning over the back of her chair to face him with a grin, “do I do what’s good for me?”
Sham was stretched out on the bed, elbows in the mattress and chin propped cupped between his hands, looking far too serious for Lyssa’s liking. “Do you think Uncle Kairn has trouble sleeping tonight too?”
“Sham, I don’t think anything ever keeps that man from sleeping. He could pass out on a stone floor if it was the right time of night.”
She followed his gaze to the sigil-laced scarf that lay in a rumpled heap on the table, and there was a long, heavy moment of silence as they both stared at it.
“You were hoping though, weren’t you?” Sham said, softly.
“Maybe.” She took another gulp from the bottle.
Sham got out of bed and crossed the short distance to the table. The chair beside her had its back to the table and rather than turn it around, he straddled the seat and folded his arms over the back. He eyed the configuration of candles and tokens with suspicion.
“Were you… praying?”
“What?” About to replace the bottle, Lyssa thought better of it and kept it cocked in the air instead.
“You never pray.”
She took another swig. “More overrated than sleep.”
“I’ve never tried it. I didn’t think the gods would listen. Or if they did, maybe I wouldn’t really want them to.” He reached out over the table, prodding the nearest candle, the red one, with one long, slender finger.
“I’ve always thought the gods must have better things to do than listen to us.”
“Uncle Kairn says magic is sort of like talking to the gods,” said Sham, touching the green and black candles that flanked the red as well. “When you draw the right forms, you call a little piece of them, just for a moment, to come do what you ask. That’s all a prayer is, isn’t it? It’s just a bit more… polite, I guess.”
Lyssa laughed.
Shamino shot her a defensive look as he whisked his hand away from the circle. “What?”
“Nothing,” said Lyssa, with a wave of her near-empty bottle. “I think I just figured out why I don’t like to pray. “
“Oh.” He smiled a bit at that and reached again for the circle. “Is this one for my mother?” he asked, sliding a finger over one of the small, glossy stones.
Lyssa studied him quietly from behind her bottle as he picked up the token and turned it over in his hand, not wanting to confess that she hadn’t thought it worth the effort to assign an identity to any of them.
“What was she like?” he said, clearly taking her lack of response as an affirmative.
“This again? You know I got nothing to give you, kid. I didn’t know her for long. And it’s not as if you don’t have a lifetime of stories about her from your uncle.”
“I do.” He stared at the stone as it rolled between his fingers, as if it might be persuaded to reveal some great truth if only he studied it hard enough. “But he always made her sound almost too good to be true. Like some fairytale princess brought me into this world. And he’s not here to tell them tonight anyway.”
Lyssa reached for the scarf. “We could call him.”
Shamino’s attention snapped from the token to her hand as it came to rest on the cloth. “No,” he said, firmly. “Let him sleep.” He set down the token, brushing his hand over a few of its fellows as he withdrew. “Were they all your friends?”
Lyssa let go of the scarf, curling her hand back around the bottle instead. “Enough of them were.”
“You never talk about them.”
“Talk is overrated too.” She took another drink.
“Oh, really?” He looked up at her with a smirk. “Where’s that rank next to sleep and prayer?”
“I swear you sound less and less like your uncle every day. I think I’m finally rubbing off on you.” She downed the last of the wine and set the bottle down far outside the circle.
Shamino’s eyes followed the bottle as t hit the table with a sharp hollow clink. “You know, alcohol is overrated too,” he said.
“You ever tried it?”
“I think I’d rather hold on to my wits, my liver, and my money, thank you.”
“Ah, now there’s the Kairn in you shining through again,” she said, and a flush spread over the boy’s cheeks. “You want to talk? Fine, I’ll talk.” She scooped up the nearest token and held it aloft.
“This one’s for Ilya,” she said. “If there ever was a fairytale princess come to life, it was her. Graceful, sweet delicate little flower of a girl, with more guts than you’d ever imagine such a pampered dainty little thing to possess. I’d sooner cross a mountain lion.”
She traded the token for another. “Tess. The only other person I’ve ever known with a heart as big as your uncle’s. Sort of person that could brighten your day just by walking in the room.”
The second token joined the first and she reached for a third. “Farran. You think I’m good with a sword? Never beat her. Not once. And, believe me, I tried. Oh, did I try.” She shook her head as Farran’s token joined the rest. “Served with them all for five years. They were my family. And in one night, they were all gone.”
“Protecting me,” said Sham, staring glumly at the gathered tokens.
Lyssa lunged across the table, catching his chin in her hand and forcing him to meet her eye. “I want you to never, ever think of it that way,” she said. “You hear me?”
Sham swallowed hard and she could see the beginnings of tears welling in his eyes. “But it’s true,” he said, as she released him. “If it wasn’t for me and the stupid prophecy, all your friends and my mother would still be alive.”
Lyssa fell back in her chair with a heavy sigh. “Sham, there are things in this world, horrible, dark things that you are too young and sweet and too much your uncle’s son to possibly understand.” He squirmed a bit at that, but she went on. “And those are what killed my friends, not you. Never you.” He sniffed and blinked and she turned back to the stones to let him regain his composure. “The people who did do this? They’re gonna pay. That’s why I went to see my sister today. Why I was praying tonight. By the gods and every one they’ve taken, they will pay.”
There was another loud sniff and an uneasy chuckle from the boy. “You know,” he said, his voice thick. “Maybe it’s a good thing you don’t pray so often. It does strange things to you.”
Lyssa laughed. “You’re right, I should just stick to alcohol.”
“That is not what I said.”
“Too late to take it back now.” Lyssa retrieved a small bag from beneath Kairn’s scarf and began sweeping the tokens together.
“But I never-” He shook his head & laughed. “I don’t know how Uncle Kairn ever put up with you. Wait! Can-can I have that one?”
“Yeah, take it.” Lyssa pressed the stone Sham had designated as Shasa’s into his hand.
“Thanks. What’s that one? You didn’t tell me before.”
“This one?” Hand poised over the open mouth of the bag, Lyssa paused. “This is for Tristan.” She turned the stone over thoughtfully. “Biggest fool I ever met,” she added, fondly. “Got himself caught up in a war that was never meant to be his and loved every moment of it ‘til it caught up with him.” The stone fell into the bag with a sharp clink as it met the rest.
Lyssa and turned to the candles. Green and gold snuffed themselves out with no more than a look, and black followed.
“You know what I don’t understand?” said Shamino, as the white and then the blue candles died as well and only the red remained. “If they really… if they really wanted me, why haven’t they done this again? I mean, not that I want them to, but…”
The last candle flickered and died and joined the rest in the bag, which Lyssa cinched shut with more force than was strictly necessary. “I told you,” she said. “These things are about more than you. Besides,” she added, finding and playfully striking his shoulder in the dark. “if anyone does want you, they’ll have to get through me. Now would you try to get some sleep?”
Soft Serve 25/50 - Pistachio #19. Prayer
Story : knights & necromancers
Rating : PG
Timeframe : 1275 (follows this)
Word Count : ~1600
The hotel room was quiet, save the soft, steady breathing from the bed where Shamino lay, and dark but for the flickering candles on the narrow side table beneath the window where Lyssa sat. Laid out in a circle, the six points of red, blue, white, black, gold and green stood watch as the gods over the field of scattered stone tokens in their midst.
“Lyssa?” came the tentative call from the darkness behind her, confirming her suspicions that the boy had only been feigning sleep.
“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”
“Don’t give me that.” The mattress groaned as he shifted himself towards the foot of the bed. “You obviously can’t sleep either.”
“Sleep’s overrated.” She reached for the bottle of wine that stood beside the circle of candles as if it too were a god.
“But you just said-”
Lyssa drank straight from the bottle and frowned at the dwindling remainder as she placed it back on the table. “Since when,” she said, leaning over the back of her chair to face him with a grin, “do I do what’s good for me?”
Sham was stretched out on the bed, elbows in the mattress and chin propped cupped between his hands, looking far too serious for Lyssa’s liking. “Do you think Uncle Kairn has trouble sleeping tonight too?”
“Sham, I don’t think anything ever keeps that man from sleeping. He could pass out on a stone floor if it was the right time of night.”
She followed his gaze to the sigil-laced scarf that lay in a rumpled heap on the table, and there was a long, heavy moment of silence as they both stared at it.
“You were hoping though, weren’t you?” Sham said, softly.
“Maybe.” She took another gulp from the bottle.
Sham got out of bed and crossed the short distance to the table. The chair beside her had its back to the table and rather than turn it around, he straddled the seat and folded his arms over the back. He eyed the configuration of candles and tokens with suspicion.
“Were you… praying?”
“What?” About to replace the bottle, Lyssa thought better of it and kept it cocked in the air instead.
“You never pray.”
She took another swig. “More overrated than sleep.”
“I’ve never tried it. I didn’t think the gods would listen. Or if they did, maybe I wouldn’t really want them to.” He reached out over the table, prodding the nearest candle, the red one, with one long, slender finger.
“I’ve always thought the gods must have better things to do than listen to us.”
“Uncle Kairn says magic is sort of like talking to the gods,” said Sham, touching the green and black candles that flanked the red as well. “When you draw the right forms, you call a little piece of them, just for a moment, to come do what you ask. That’s all a prayer is, isn’t it? It’s just a bit more… polite, I guess.”
Lyssa laughed.
Shamino shot her a defensive look as he whisked his hand away from the circle. “What?”
“Nothing,” said Lyssa, with a wave of her near-empty bottle. “I think I just figured out why I don’t like to pray. “
“Oh.” He smiled a bit at that and reached again for the circle. “Is this one for my mother?” he asked, sliding a finger over one of the small, glossy stones.
Lyssa studied him quietly from behind her bottle as he picked up the token and turned it over in his hand, not wanting to confess that she hadn’t thought it worth the effort to assign an identity to any of them.
“What was she like?” he said, clearly taking her lack of response as an affirmative.
“This again? You know I got nothing to give you, kid. I didn’t know her for long. And it’s not as if you don’t have a lifetime of stories about her from your uncle.”
“I do.” He stared at the stone as it rolled between his fingers, as if it might be persuaded to reveal some great truth if only he studied it hard enough. “But he always made her sound almost too good to be true. Like some fairytale princess brought me into this world. And he’s not here to tell them tonight anyway.”
Lyssa reached for the scarf. “We could call him.”
Shamino’s attention snapped from the token to her hand as it came to rest on the cloth. “No,” he said, firmly. “Let him sleep.” He set down the token, brushing his hand over a few of its fellows as he withdrew. “Were they all your friends?”
Lyssa let go of the scarf, curling her hand back around the bottle instead. “Enough of them were.”
“You never talk about them.”
“Talk is overrated too.” She took another drink.
“Oh, really?” He looked up at her with a smirk. “Where’s that rank next to sleep and prayer?”
“I swear you sound less and less like your uncle every day. I think I’m finally rubbing off on you.” She downed the last of the wine and set the bottle down far outside the circle.
Shamino’s eyes followed the bottle as t hit the table with a sharp hollow clink. “You know, alcohol is overrated too,” he said.
“You ever tried it?”
“I think I’d rather hold on to my wits, my liver, and my money, thank you.”
“Ah, now there’s the Kairn in you shining through again,” she said, and a flush spread over the boy’s cheeks. “You want to talk? Fine, I’ll talk.” She scooped up the nearest token and held it aloft.
“This one’s for Ilya,” she said. “If there ever was a fairytale princess come to life, it was her. Graceful, sweet delicate little flower of a girl, with more guts than you’d ever imagine such a pampered dainty little thing to possess. I’d sooner cross a mountain lion.”
She traded the token for another. “Tess. The only other person I’ve ever known with a heart as big as your uncle’s. Sort of person that could brighten your day just by walking in the room.”
The second token joined the first and she reached for a third. “Farran. You think I’m good with a sword? Never beat her. Not once. And, believe me, I tried. Oh, did I try.” She shook her head as Farran’s token joined the rest. “Served with them all for five years. They were my family. And in one night, they were all gone.”
“Protecting me,” said Sham, staring glumly at the gathered tokens.
Lyssa lunged across the table, catching his chin in her hand and forcing him to meet her eye. “I want you to never, ever think of it that way,” she said. “You hear me?”
Sham swallowed hard and she could see the beginnings of tears welling in his eyes. “But it’s true,” he said, as she released him. “If it wasn’t for me and the stupid prophecy, all your friends and my mother would still be alive.”
Lyssa fell back in her chair with a heavy sigh. “Sham, there are things in this world, horrible, dark things that you are too young and sweet and too much your uncle’s son to possibly understand.” He squirmed a bit at that, but she went on. “And those are what killed my friends, not you. Never you.” He sniffed and blinked and she turned back to the stones to let him regain his composure. “The people who did do this? They’re gonna pay. That’s why I went to see my sister today. Why I was praying tonight. By the gods and every one they’ve taken, they will pay.”
There was another loud sniff and an uneasy chuckle from the boy. “You know,” he said, his voice thick. “Maybe it’s a good thing you don’t pray so often. It does strange things to you.”
Lyssa laughed. “You’re right, I should just stick to alcohol.”
“That is not what I said.”
“Too late to take it back now.” Lyssa retrieved a small bag from beneath Kairn’s scarf and began sweeping the tokens together.
“But I never-” He shook his head & laughed. “I don’t know how Uncle Kairn ever put up with you. Wait! Can-can I have that one?”
“Yeah, take it.” Lyssa pressed the stone Sham had designated as Shasa’s into his hand.
“Thanks. What’s that one? You didn’t tell me before.”
“This one?” Hand poised over the open mouth of the bag, Lyssa paused. “This is for Tristan.” She turned the stone over thoughtfully. “Biggest fool I ever met,” she added, fondly. “Got himself caught up in a war that was never meant to be his and loved every moment of it ‘til it caught up with him.” The stone fell into the bag with a sharp clink as it met the rest.
Lyssa and turned to the candles. Green and gold snuffed themselves out with no more than a look, and black followed.
“You know what I don’t understand?” said Shamino, as the white and then the blue candles died as well and only the red remained. “If they really… if they really wanted me, why haven’t they done this again? I mean, not that I want them to, but…”
The last candle flickered and died and joined the rest in the bag, which Lyssa cinched shut with more force than was strictly necessary. “I told you,” she said. “These things are about more than you. Besides,” she added, finding and playfully striking his shoulder in the dark. “if anyone does want you, they’ll have to get through me. Now would you try to get some sleep?”