Short Fanfic (Royston/Hal)
Title: Hal in Present Tense (Hal's POV)
Author: plotdevourasaur
Rating: Practically G, unfortunately.
Pairing: Hal/Royston
Words: 369
Notes: Jaidani own Havemercy and everything- and everyone- in it. (And they also own my soul. *dead serious*) Also, the two sections in bold italics are direct quotes (although the tense is changed in the second case). Thanks to pumaful for the icon.
Hal
Like a sneeze (or, examining the breadth of the Margrave's exile so far- recent calm aside- like the latest, most explosive, development in a bad case of hay fever) he has interrupted the pulse, the native rhythm, of Nevers. Though even Mme's idea of polite causerie is unfortunately vicious at times, she could never have incited such a serious upset in the past.
And then there is the matter of the table. Even now, ashes curl and playfully spread through the dining hall.
I think that I am more than a little bit in awe, to be honest. There are tiny, fine, dark wood-chip missiles embedded in the ceiling. And if the smallest flame has always held the power to mesmerize men, then simple combustion it a kind of magic all on its own, stripped of frippery and even of Talents. In the corner of my mind I am still seeing his eyes flash as he says "with no beauty of feature or soul--"
I have never seen the romantic, the truly epic, outside of my romans before (except perhaps in the raging of nature- but you cannot walk alongside a squall line, or force a tree bending in the wind to eat chicken soup), but this thing between Royston and I holds more of the extraordinary than an ordinary friendship-
it is a story.
A tableau of some sort that is unfolding. I can't see but glimmers of parts of it yet, but it is ours, and I would be a fool not to try to understand it better. I would be a fool not to grab on to it and never let it go (though the Margrave is the only person I would consider legendlike between Nevers and Nowheres, and I wonder what will have to change about me, what I will have to lose or learn, in order to rise to his plane of existence- what will my silver nose be, so to speak?).
I am not where I should be, right now. So-
I usher the children out into the hallway, where the servants have gathered to stare, open-mouthed, through the door and at the scene before them.
"Would you?" I ask the cook.
Author: plotdevourasaur
Rating: Practically G, unfortunately.
Pairing: Hal/Royston
Words: 369
Notes: Jaidani own Havemercy and everything- and everyone- in it. (And they also own my soul. *dead serious*) Also, the two sections in bold italics are direct quotes (although the tense is changed in the second case). Thanks to pumaful for the icon.
Hal
Like a sneeze (or, examining the breadth of the Margrave's exile so far- recent calm aside- like the latest, most explosive, development in a bad case of hay fever) he has interrupted the pulse, the native rhythm, of Nevers. Though even Mme's idea of polite causerie is unfortunately vicious at times, she could never have incited such a serious upset in the past.
And then there is the matter of the table. Even now, ashes curl and playfully spread through the dining hall.
I think that I am more than a little bit in awe, to be honest. There are tiny, fine, dark wood-chip missiles embedded in the ceiling. And if the smallest flame has always held the power to mesmerize men, then simple combustion it a kind of magic all on its own, stripped of frippery and even of Talents. In the corner of my mind I am still seeing his eyes flash as he says "with no beauty of feature or soul--"
I have never seen the romantic, the truly epic, outside of my romans before (except perhaps in the raging of nature- but you cannot walk alongside a squall line, or force a tree bending in the wind to eat chicken soup), but this thing between Royston and I holds more of the extraordinary than an ordinary friendship-
it is a story.
A tableau of some sort that is unfolding. I can't see but glimmers of parts of it yet, but it is ours, and I would be a fool not to try to understand it better. I would be a fool not to grab on to it and never let it go (though the Margrave is the only person I would consider legendlike between Nevers and Nowheres, and I wonder what will have to change about me, what I will have to lose or learn, in order to rise to his plane of existence- what will my silver nose be, so to speak?).
I am not where I should be, right now. So-
I usher the children out into the hallway, where the servants have gathered to stare, open-mouthed, through the door and at the scene before them.
"Would you?" I ask the cook.