Alphabet Soup (K, X, E, F, P)
And I'm finished with Alphabet Soup! Woohoo! :-D
Title: See individual cuts
Fandom: Monstrous Regiment (Discworld)
Pairing: Polly/Mal
Claim: Polly/Mal of Monstrous Regiment
Rating: See individual cuts
Word count: See individual cuts
Dying for a Fix of Light
The inn’s windows are beacons in the foggy spring night. Lost moths fling themselves at the rippling glass, aching for the light within.
An unseen watcher might circle The Duchess, past the scenes of men in their cups, of the blazing hearth and the lamp-light, of patrons tucking into late dinners. Circle the inn and find the kitchen, just beyond the stables, the light streaming from the window.
Someone inside, someone golden as sunlight, is chopping potatoes with a wicked-edged blade, and talking to someone the watcher can’t see. The one with the knife, the one the watcher can see, makes a few practiced strokes with the blade, holding it as though it were much longer. Bright laughter escapes the walls, the seal around the window. Both voices are familiar, but the watcher is only concerned with one.
In the morning, Polly will find delicate footprints in the mud outside the window, as though someone melted out of the fog and stood watching her in the dark.
***
The Right to be Stupid
Polly read the sign hanging over the door of the pub, which proclaimed that:
Xenophobic Militants Against Solvania
were welcome in the inn, and implying that everyone else either wasn’t welcome, or wasn’t particularly patriotic.
Polly groaned, and rubbed her face, absently.
“How the hell is that going to help anything?” she muttered.
She leaned against a hitching post outside the inn, and waited. Presently, Mal arrived, carrying a small sack of Klatchian Midnight Dark Roast and wearing a satisfied smile.
“They had free samples of Hersheban Espresso,” she reported, happily. Then she noticed the sign, and sighed.
“More idiots, I see.”
“Apparently.”
“Not to worry,” said Mal. “There’s another inn down the road. We’ll just stay there tonight. No need to deal with this lot.”
“Mal!” Polly snapped, irritated. “Half the country’s got Solvanian blood, don’t you get it? Idiots like that’ll tear the country apart!”
Mal, lounging against the hitching post, smirked. “Give me a little credit, Old Chap,” she said, gently. “I know what it means.” She put her arm around Polly, to draw her away from the offending inn. “It’s not your job to keep everyone from being stupid,” she continued. “You just have to make sure there’s a country left for them to be stupid in.”
“I can’t say that’s very comforting,” Polly replied, but she let Mal lead her down the road towards the only other public house in town.
***
Freedom, Justice, and …
“…” Polly said.
Her mouth hung open. She could feel herself salivating.
This was absurd, and not a little embarrassing, but at the moment she didn’t care all that much.
She’d spent the last three weeks eating stale, slightly mouldy bread, and being grateful to get even that.
Now someone was offering her bread again, but it was warm and toasted and cut into strips, and sitting on a plate next to a mug of hot, sweet, milky tea, and a little china cup that held the object of her delight.
It was perfect. The top had been neatly sliced off, and she could see that the yolk was still runny.
She'd never been so happy at the prospect of a soft-boiled egg.
Predator
Mal lay in the musty darkness, trying to get used to sleeping on her back. It wasn’t easy. In her world, beds were for sex, or for dinner, and sometimes neither. Sleeping in a bed was something humans did.
She felt something scuttle over her leg in the gloom. If anyone else had been awake they’d have seen her arm whip out like a snake, seizing the rat and bringing it, struggling to her mouth. She bit.
This is what I am, she thought, as the blood spurted, hot and sharp, into her mouth. But not all that I am.
***
Small Comforts
Mal sipped her coffee.
She was intensely relieved to have some again, so-much-so that the feeling almost overwhelmed her desire to let the League Rules go hang, and rip off Strappi’s miserable head.
Almost. Not quite.
She watched Polly, across the mess-hall table from her, dunking her slab of horse-bread into her tea in the hopes of softening it up a little.
She was relieved about that, too.
Sometimes, when she knew no-one could see her, Mal let herself shudder at the thought of how close she’d come to loosing it. Had lost it, in fact, although she was trying really hard not to think about that.
She'd blacked out at that point, and when she'd come to, she’d been surprised to discover that someone - Polly, as it turned out - had brought her back to their make-shift barracks before heading off on what could only have been called a Fool’s Errand.
But it had worked, and they'd all (miraculously) survived, and so now she found herself here, drinking coffee like nothing had gone wrong, sitting across from Polly, who had cared enough about her to bring her somewhere safe, even after Mal had tried to kill her.
Mal sipped from her cup, and took small comfort from the smile Polly offered her across the table.
*****
Thoughts? Comments? Please, please, please? :-)
Title: See individual cuts
Fandom: Monstrous Regiment (Discworld)
Pairing: Polly/Mal
Claim: Polly/Mal of Monstrous Regiment
Rating: See individual cuts
Word count: See individual cuts
Dying for a Fix of Light
The inn’s windows are beacons in the foggy spring night. Lost moths fling themselves at the rippling glass, aching for the light within.
An unseen watcher might circle The Duchess, past the scenes of men in their cups, of the blazing hearth and the lamp-light, of patrons tucking into late dinners. Circle the inn and find the kitchen, just beyond the stables, the light streaming from the window.
Someone inside, someone golden as sunlight, is chopping potatoes with a wicked-edged blade, and talking to someone the watcher can’t see. The one with the knife, the one the watcher can see, makes a few practiced strokes with the blade, holding it as though it were much longer. Bright laughter escapes the walls, the seal around the window. Both voices are familiar, but the watcher is only concerned with one.
In the morning, Polly will find delicate footprints in the mud outside the window, as though someone melted out of the fog and stood watching her in the dark.
***
The Right to be Stupid
Polly read the sign hanging over the door of the pub, which proclaimed that:
Xenophobic Militants Against Solvania
were welcome in the inn, and implying that everyone else either wasn’t welcome, or wasn’t particularly patriotic.
Polly groaned, and rubbed her face, absently.
“How the hell is that going to help anything?” she muttered.
She leaned against a hitching post outside the inn, and waited. Presently, Mal arrived, carrying a small sack of Klatchian Midnight Dark Roast and wearing a satisfied smile.
“They had free samples of Hersheban Espresso,” she reported, happily. Then she noticed the sign, and sighed.
“More idiots, I see.”
“Apparently.”
“Not to worry,” said Mal. “There’s another inn down the road. We’ll just stay there tonight. No need to deal with this lot.”
“Mal!” Polly snapped, irritated. “Half the country’s got Solvanian blood, don’t you get it? Idiots like that’ll tear the country apart!”
Mal, lounging against the hitching post, smirked. “Give me a little credit, Old Chap,” she said, gently. “I know what it means.” She put her arm around Polly, to draw her away from the offending inn. “It’s not your job to keep everyone from being stupid,” she continued. “You just have to make sure there’s a country left for them to be stupid in.”
“I can’t say that’s very comforting,” Polly replied, but she let Mal lead her down the road towards the only other public house in town.
***
Freedom, Justice, and …
“…” Polly said.
Her mouth hung open. She could feel herself salivating.
This was absurd, and not a little embarrassing, but at the moment she didn’t care all that much.
She’d spent the last three weeks eating stale, slightly mouldy bread, and being grateful to get even that.
Now someone was offering her bread again, but it was warm and toasted and cut into strips, and sitting on a plate next to a mug of hot, sweet, milky tea, and a little china cup that held the object of her delight.
It was perfect. The top had been neatly sliced off, and she could see that the yolk was still runny.
She'd never been so happy at the prospect of a soft-boiled egg.
Predator
Mal lay in the musty darkness, trying to get used to sleeping on her back. It wasn’t easy. In her world, beds were for sex, or for dinner, and sometimes neither. Sleeping in a bed was something humans did.
She felt something scuttle over her leg in the gloom. If anyone else had been awake they’d have seen her arm whip out like a snake, seizing the rat and bringing it, struggling to her mouth. She bit.
This is what I am, she thought, as the blood spurted, hot and sharp, into her mouth. But not all that I am.
***
Small Comforts
Mal sipped her coffee.
She was intensely relieved to have some again, so-much-so that the feeling almost overwhelmed her desire to let the League Rules go hang, and rip off Strappi’s miserable head.
Almost. Not quite.
She watched Polly, across the mess-hall table from her, dunking her slab of horse-bread into her tea in the hopes of softening it up a little.
She was relieved about that, too.
Sometimes, when she knew no-one could see her, Mal let herself shudder at the thought of how close she’d come to loosing it. Had lost it, in fact, although she was trying really hard not to think about that.
She'd blacked out at that point, and when she'd come to, she’d been surprised to discover that someone - Polly, as it turned out - had brought her back to their make-shift barracks before heading off on what could only have been called a Fool’s Errand.
But it had worked, and they'd all (miraculously) survived, and so now she found herself here, drinking coffee like nothing had gone wrong, sitting across from Polly, who had cared enough about her to bring her somewhere safe, even after Mal had tried to kill her.
Mal sipped from her cup, and took small comfort from the smile Polly offered her across the table.
*****
Thoughts? Comments? Please, please, please? :-)