Candy Apple. Ambrosia. (Horizon Tales)
AUTHOR: Shrimp
CHALLENGE: Candy Apple 14. belly/belly button; Ambrosia 21. "But the effect of her being on those around her was incalculably diffusive: for the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs."
WORD COUNT: 1,056
RATING: PG-13
NOTES: Woo, I'm on a roll! This piece takes place a few days after the last one.
Vala was spoiled. She had forgotten what it was like to have an injury go unhealed by magic. Her heart clenched at the thought but she focused on the throbbing pain in her side instead. She grunted as she sat down before one of the women who was helping with the injured soldiers. The woman seemed to eye her suspiciously but said nothing. Vala didn’t like it. She wondered what the woman thought of her. Was she like Alden and his followers who thought she had only risen so high in the king’s favor because she was young and attractive? Vala frowned and if the woman cared to notice it she gave no sign. Vala had enough things to frown about anyway aside from a strange look given by a stranger. First and foremost was the gash in her side.
“Shirt off,” the woman ordered. Vala had already stripped of her leather and armor, remaining only in a thin linen shirt. It had been white some time ago, wear and lack of washing reconciling it to a harsh yellow color. Now there was a bright red stain that grew larger and darker the longer Vala wore it. It would probably had been easier to just cut the damn thing off but the woman hadn’t offered it and Vala wasn’t going to be more of a bother than she thought this woman considered her. Hissing through the pain she lifted her ruined shirt over her head and threw it unceremoniously to the floor. The bandages that had been hastily wrapped around her abdomen were sticky and soaked through on one side. With soft hands the woman tore away the bandages and let them fall on top of Vala’s discarded shirt. “Your ancestors must love you greatly.” Vala quirked an eyebrow and met the solemn gaze of the woman. She looked down at the slash that traveled from her ribs down in an arc across her stomach. It looked deep, though Vala didn’t really know much about things like that. All she knew was that it hurt.
The air in the room was thick with the smell of blood and smoke and wine. Vala let her gaze wander as the woman prepared the meager supplies she had. There were other soldiers present though none were under Vala’s command. All seemed to suffering worse from inebriation than their actual injuries. She supposed that was the best way to cope with the pain and the fear. A man laid unconscious in the corner furthest from her. He looked pale and sweaty and it was with mild surprise that she noticed that one of his hands was missing. Quickly she turned her gaze back to the woman in front of her. She was working a thread through the eye of a needle. Vala clenched her teeth. A part of her thought she should ask for wine, but the words never made it to her mouth. Her side couldn’t hurt much more than it did. A few moments under a needle wouldn’t make any difference.
“Are you ready?” The woman asked, eyeing her in that same inscrutable way. Vala nodded. She wasn’t ready enough. She jumped when the needle first pierced her skin and again when the woman pulled the thread taut.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. She gripped her knees to steady herself for the next part. This time she managed to stay still. Her eyes watered and she blinked furiously. If she ground her teeth any harder she feared they might turn to dust. The woman worked in slow and steady silence for what felt like hours to Vala. When she dared to glance down she saw that the wound was barely even close to being closed. She released a shaky, pained breath at the realization.
“Would you like to talk? To keep your mind off of the pain?” The woman offered.
“Maybe. I don’t know. About what?” Her voice was curt and tense. She couldn’t help it. It was hard to be polite when you were being sewed up like a torn blanket. The traces of a headache nudged at her temple. Blood loss, she figured. She would have to make sure to eat a little something and get a good night’s sleep. The wound would take time to heal but Vala didn’t intend on being bedridden and useless for the whole time.
“Have you really slept with many men?” The woman had lowered her voice to a whisper. The hot rush of anger did distract Vala from the freshest of the pain, however. She supposed that could be considered a bright side.
“What?” She hissed.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” From what Vala could tell the woman did seem repentant. It was true that she shouldn’t have asked. It was none of anyone’s business what she did outside of advising the king and leading troops. She wasn’t foolish enough to think that even if it was no one’s business that people weren’t interested in it.
“It’s more than one though I don’t think that makes it many.” The woman looked up in shock. Whether because of Vala’s answer or the sheer fact that she had answered was hard to tell.
“Are they so different that you would want more than one?” It was a strange conversation to be having. But why should it be? How many times had Vala sat in Zuan’s bar with Garsé and talked of sex: the real, the hypothetical, the hoped for? Vala closed her eyes as nostalgia hit her strongly.
“Yes. Very different.”
“Is it less special? They say to save yourself to make it special.” In her mind Vala could see Hugh’s wide eyed innocence and shaking knees, Sans’ flushed cheeks and longing stares, Uther’s easy smiles and confident glances. She could taste the bitter dandelion tea on Hugh’s tongue, the sweat on his skin. She could hear Sans’ heavy, eager breaths as they beat against her ear, the sound of her name coming guttural out of the back of his throat. She could smell wet dog and oiled leather and spiced wine all mixed together into a musk and recognize Uther by the scent alone. She could feel all their begging, needing, wanting hands.
“It’s only special if you want it to be. They’re all different. They can all be special.”
CHALLENGE: Candy Apple 14. belly/belly button; Ambrosia 21. "But the effect of her being on those around her was incalculably diffusive: for the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs."
WORD COUNT: 1,056
RATING: PG-13
NOTES: Woo, I'm on a roll! This piece takes place a few days after the last one.
Vala was spoiled. She had forgotten what it was like to have an injury go unhealed by magic. Her heart clenched at the thought but she focused on the throbbing pain in her side instead. She grunted as she sat down before one of the women who was helping with the injured soldiers. The woman seemed to eye her suspiciously but said nothing. Vala didn’t like it. She wondered what the woman thought of her. Was she like Alden and his followers who thought she had only risen so high in the king’s favor because she was young and attractive? Vala frowned and if the woman cared to notice it she gave no sign. Vala had enough things to frown about anyway aside from a strange look given by a stranger. First and foremost was the gash in her side.
“Shirt off,” the woman ordered. Vala had already stripped of her leather and armor, remaining only in a thin linen shirt. It had been white some time ago, wear and lack of washing reconciling it to a harsh yellow color. Now there was a bright red stain that grew larger and darker the longer Vala wore it. It would probably had been easier to just cut the damn thing off but the woman hadn’t offered it and Vala wasn’t going to be more of a bother than she thought this woman considered her. Hissing through the pain she lifted her ruined shirt over her head and threw it unceremoniously to the floor. The bandages that had been hastily wrapped around her abdomen were sticky and soaked through on one side. With soft hands the woman tore away the bandages and let them fall on top of Vala’s discarded shirt. “Your ancestors must love you greatly.” Vala quirked an eyebrow and met the solemn gaze of the woman. She looked down at the slash that traveled from her ribs down in an arc across her stomach. It looked deep, though Vala didn’t really know much about things like that. All she knew was that it hurt.
The air in the room was thick with the smell of blood and smoke and wine. Vala let her gaze wander as the woman prepared the meager supplies she had. There were other soldiers present though none were under Vala’s command. All seemed to suffering worse from inebriation than their actual injuries. She supposed that was the best way to cope with the pain and the fear. A man laid unconscious in the corner furthest from her. He looked pale and sweaty and it was with mild surprise that she noticed that one of his hands was missing. Quickly she turned her gaze back to the woman in front of her. She was working a thread through the eye of a needle. Vala clenched her teeth. A part of her thought she should ask for wine, but the words never made it to her mouth. Her side couldn’t hurt much more than it did. A few moments under a needle wouldn’t make any difference.
“Are you ready?” The woman asked, eyeing her in that same inscrutable way. Vala nodded. She wasn’t ready enough. She jumped when the needle first pierced her skin and again when the woman pulled the thread taut.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. She gripped her knees to steady herself for the next part. This time she managed to stay still. Her eyes watered and she blinked furiously. If she ground her teeth any harder she feared they might turn to dust. The woman worked in slow and steady silence for what felt like hours to Vala. When she dared to glance down she saw that the wound was barely even close to being closed. She released a shaky, pained breath at the realization.
“Would you like to talk? To keep your mind off of the pain?” The woman offered.
“Maybe. I don’t know. About what?” Her voice was curt and tense. She couldn’t help it. It was hard to be polite when you were being sewed up like a torn blanket. The traces of a headache nudged at her temple. Blood loss, she figured. She would have to make sure to eat a little something and get a good night’s sleep. The wound would take time to heal but Vala didn’t intend on being bedridden and useless for the whole time.
“Have you really slept with many men?” The woman had lowered her voice to a whisper. The hot rush of anger did distract Vala from the freshest of the pain, however. She supposed that could be considered a bright side.
“What?” She hissed.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” From what Vala could tell the woman did seem repentant. It was true that she shouldn’t have asked. It was none of anyone’s business what she did outside of advising the king and leading troops. She wasn’t foolish enough to think that even if it was no one’s business that people weren’t interested in it.
“It’s more than one though I don’t think that makes it many.” The woman looked up in shock. Whether because of Vala’s answer or the sheer fact that she had answered was hard to tell.
“Are they so different that you would want more than one?” It was a strange conversation to be having. But why should it be? How many times had Vala sat in Zuan’s bar with Garsé and talked of sex: the real, the hypothetical, the hoped for? Vala closed her eyes as nostalgia hit her strongly.
“Yes. Very different.”
“Is it less special? They say to save yourself to make it special.” In her mind Vala could see Hugh’s wide eyed innocence and shaking knees, Sans’ flushed cheeks and longing stares, Uther’s easy smiles and confident glances. She could taste the bitter dandelion tea on Hugh’s tongue, the sweat on his skin. She could hear Sans’ heavy, eager breaths as they beat against her ear, the sound of her name coming guttural out of the back of his throat. She could smell wet dog and oiled leather and spiced wine all mixed together into a musk and recognize Uther by the scent alone. She could feel all their begging, needing, wanting hands.
“It’s only special if you want it to be. They’re all different. They can all be special.”