Meteora
Title: Anniversary
Word Count: 450
Crossposted: HERE at runaway-tales
Taesa was the only one in the huge kitchen when he got downstairs, sitting at the breakfast bar with a mug of tea in her hands, her ears twitching as she watched the morning news. On the counter beside her was a thick white towel, the many pieces of her dismantled rifle spread across it.
"Good morning," she said distantly. "I put coffee on, if you want any."
"How long have you been awake?" he asked, wandering to the cupboards and opening several in his search for a mug before Taesa pointed at the correct one without even looking at him.
"Um... that's a good question," came her reply. "Three hours, four, hard to say." She twisted on her stool and winced as she rubbed her shoulders. "My back hurts," she whined quietly.
"I doubt hunching over a counter is helping."
"My gun was dirty."
"It could have waited."
"I don't tell you when to clean your knives," she snapped. "Don't tell me when to..." She blinked, catching herself, then sighed and covered her face with her hands. "I'm sorry," she said meekly. Frowning, he left his empty mug on the counter and crossed the kitchen to stand behind her, squeezing her tense shoulders.
"Wow, these are solid rock," he quipped, trying to bring a smile to her face as he massaged the knotted muscles of her upper back. She only sighed heavily. "Tae, what's the matter?" he asked.
"My blood pressure is up," she cracked from behind her hands.
"Probably," he agreed. "But seriously." She pointed again, this time at the television, and he glanced at it for the first time to find they were marking the ten year anniversary of the Port Solstice riots with a series of documentaries. His heart sank. "Oh God, Tae..." he murmured, and leaned over to tap the screen off. "You shouldn't be watching that."
"I didn't mean to," she said in a tiny voice. "It just came on while I was cleaning and..." She sniffed quietly and twisted the stool around so that she could face him, and looked up from beneath her thick bangs, her eyes red and her cheeks tear-streaked. "I miss my dad," she whispered. Sighing, he hugged her tight to him, running his hand across the crown of her thick hair.
"I know, kiddo," he said.
"Promise me you won't go?" she asked, sliding her hands around his waist and knotting them in the back of his shirt. "I mean, I know it's wrong to ask. Everything is so... uncertain all the time, but..." She sniffed again, and shivered slightly. "People I care about keep dying, Az," she whimpered. "I'm scared that I won't have anybody left."
Word Count: 450
Crossposted: HERE at runaway-tales
Taesa was the only one in the huge kitchen when he got downstairs, sitting at the breakfast bar with a mug of tea in her hands, her ears twitching as she watched the morning news. On the counter beside her was a thick white towel, the many pieces of her dismantled rifle spread across it.
"Good morning," she said distantly. "I put coffee on, if you want any."
"How long have you been awake?" he asked, wandering to the cupboards and opening several in his search for a mug before Taesa pointed at the correct one without even looking at him.
"Um... that's a good question," came her reply. "Three hours, four, hard to say." She twisted on her stool and winced as she rubbed her shoulders. "My back hurts," she whined quietly.
"I doubt hunching over a counter is helping."
"My gun was dirty."
"It could have waited."
"I don't tell you when to clean your knives," she snapped. "Don't tell me when to..." She blinked, catching herself, then sighed and covered her face with her hands. "I'm sorry," she said meekly. Frowning, he left his empty mug on the counter and crossed the kitchen to stand behind her, squeezing her tense shoulders.
"Wow, these are solid rock," he quipped, trying to bring a smile to her face as he massaged the knotted muscles of her upper back. She only sighed heavily. "Tae, what's the matter?" he asked.
"My blood pressure is up," she cracked from behind her hands.
"Probably," he agreed. "But seriously." She pointed again, this time at the television, and he glanced at it for the first time to find they were marking the ten year anniversary of the Port Solstice riots with a series of documentaries. His heart sank. "Oh God, Tae..." he murmured, and leaned over to tap the screen off. "You shouldn't be watching that."
"I didn't mean to," she said in a tiny voice. "It just came on while I was cleaning and..." She sniffed quietly and twisted the stool around so that she could face him, and looked up from beneath her thick bangs, her eyes red and her cheeks tear-streaked. "I miss my dad," she whispered. Sighing, he hugged her tight to him, running his hand across the crown of her thick hair.
"I know, kiddo," he said.
"Promise me you won't go?" she asked, sliding her hands around his waist and knotting them in the back of his shirt. "I mean, I know it's wrong to ask. Everything is so... uncertain all the time, but..." She sniffed again, and shivered slightly. "People I care about keep dying, Az," she whimpered. "I'm scared that I won't have anybody left."