[Witches' Horses] Swallow's Tail
Title: finishing touches
'Verse/characters: Swallow's Tail; Lev Petrovich, Sascha, Helena, Taarstad
Prompt: 08C "release"
Word Count: 1220
Notes: After sunshine and oranges, includes a reference to the spark not wanting to move, for heat and humidity.
One more scratched off the list of prompts that constitutes the outline for this story.
It would be nice if it were less like pulling teeth. Oy.
---------
Sascha was elbows deep in one of the panels just outside of the engineer's station when Lev Petrovich came by, looking for a toolset to go after a knock in the air filtration system. It hadn't been a problem until he'd gone for a nap in his own quarters--he still slept better there than in the guest quarters Helena's family had offered him, even after more than a month--and found himself staring up at the ceiling, counting down the seconds until the next one.
"Problem?" he asked, not quite absently, but Sascha shook his head.
Must've knotted his hair back recently; nothing came loose when he moved. Lev Petrovich nodded, went past and grabbed the nearest portable kit from the hook by the spare wire-spools, started back out.
"We're about as good as we're going to get," Sascha said as he went past again. "Maybe another two days to finish tracing that fault the kid was talking about, and this--" he jerked his head towards the mess of wires he was fighting with, "but we're about done."
Lev Petrovich paused mid-stride, blinked. Blinked again, mentally running down the task-list written on the side of the stove, found that his own tally mostly matched Sascha's. "Huh," he muttered.
After more than a month of nearly constant repair and upgrade work, he'd sort of gotten into the rhythm of things. The kid had dropped into the locals' schedule with barely a blip, slept soundly with open windows and had worked out how to get the kitchen samovar to produce tea in under five minutes. Lev Petrovich--when he wasn't the one sleeping aboard the Swallow to make sure nobody came sniffing around a solitary horse--had taken to waiting until after he heard the kid banging down the stairs to go for tea.
Which was still fucking embarrassing, but not actually relevant. "Thanks," he told Sascha, who grunted acknowledgement, most of his attention on the wires he was apparently sorting by feel. Lev Petrovich hoped the breaker was cold.
Forty minutes later, annoying knock finally silent, he returned the toolbag--Sascha had finished up whatever he'd been up to with the panel and buttoned it up again--and went looking for Helena.
The sound of water hissing led him down towards cargo two. Back where they belonged, that sound would be terrifying, but here it just meant someone was in the cold-water shower the kid and Sascha had rigged up while the banya was out of commission.
It'd seen far more use than Lev Petrovich had expected after his own first brief foray. They hadn't been joking about it being cold. His teeth had been chattering by the time he'd finished scrubbing off, though he'd been dry and too-warm by the time he'd gotten back to the house. He hated summer.
Helena hated it more, which he hadn't really expected. Should've, thinking back, but hadn't.
He wasn't stupid enough to walk in on her, so banged on the mostly-closed door of the cargo hold and leaned back against the wall to wait.
The water cut off after a couple of minutes, and she made a dripping, dressed appearance shortly after. "Yeah?"
"Think we're about ready to finish up," he told her, ignoring the way her unbound hair was curling around her face, dripping onto her borrowed shirt.
Her family had been generous--more than generous--with time and space and all the spare parts they could lay their hands on. With two engineers in residence at the family house, besides what the kid and Sascha could put together, that was a lot of parts. Swallow was in the best shape she'd been in years. They'd re-done almost every one of her plans, even made notes as to what had been updated and when.
But he was so ready to leave. Ready to be back in temperature-controlled space, to actually know how to operate a damned samovar, to see Helena in black or blue or grey, instead of borrowed brown stitched in gold.
Helena huffed her dry half-laugh. "Took long enough," she said, and he coughed a laugh of his own.
Nice to know he wasn't the only one waiting to be released back up into the black. "Where's the kid?"
"Where else?" she rolled her eyes before turning away to prop the cargo door mostly open. They'd found it increased the rate the free water got sucked back into the filtration system. "Head, tweaking something in the stirrups."
Lev Petrovich almost rolled his eyes at himself. "They needed tweaking?"
She snorted, ducking past him so he wound up trailing her up into the living areas of the horse. "He had the manual out last night. Must've been something annoying he thought he could fix," which Lev Petrovich couldn't exactly argue with, considering the knock he'd just spent forty minutes chasing down.
The borrowed shirt made her look more like her nieces than usual, which was disconcerting. Usually he found himself seeing her in them, had occasionally caught himself from just tossing a tool across a room. At least she was still moving like herself, for all the dripping.
When she paused at the kitchen to wring out her hair over the washer, he slipped past her, heard her following bootsteps after a moment. He made space for her when he swung himself up into the horse's head, saw her poke head and arms up into the space from the corner of his eye.
"We're about done," he said when the kid looked up, and suppressed a smile when the kid spat a screw into his hand to say "Oh thank God."
Should've remembered the kid was a rider first, not an apprentice engineer. Sledges had to be boring. "Thinking another couple days," he added, "unless something left on the list goes up in our faces."
Of the three of them, Helena was the only one who didn't make some sort of absent gesture and touch a bit of the horse. She only snorted, crossing her arms on the deckplate as she leaned on her elbows. "Let's avoid a repeat of the banya."
"'Least it wasn't in the black," the kid said philosophically, screwing down the panel he'd had open. "Did you need me down in--?" he started, looking up, but Lev Petrovich shook his head. Glanced over when he saw movement, found he and Helena had shaken their heads in unison.
"You and Helena can head back to the house," he told them, trying not to sound amused. "Get a list of what supplies we don't have and do a run to the market."
Helena grumbled something in Byzanti, but nodded. "I'll see what the girls don't have and do a run for them, too."
"Kyriake said that we shouldn't get Theodora any more goddamned coffee," the kid said, stumbling slightly over the intonation, but steadying down when he didn't get corrected.
Helena snorted, unfolding herself from the deckplate and dropping down into the neck. "We'll get some baklava to go with it, then," her voice drifted up to them, and he and the kid exchanged a bemused glance before the kid ducked out from behind the saddle and loped after her.
Lev Petrovich did a habitual confirmation that everything had been put away, then took himself off, looking for Sascha.
He might go for that nap afterwards.
'Verse/characters: Swallow's Tail; Lev Petrovich, Sascha, Helena, Taarstad
Prompt: 08C "release"
Word Count: 1220
Notes: After sunshine and oranges, includes a reference to the spark not wanting to move, for heat and humidity.
One more scratched off the list of prompts that constitutes the outline for this story.
It would be nice if it were less like pulling teeth. Oy.
---------
Sascha was elbows deep in one of the panels just outside of the engineer's station when Lev Petrovich came by, looking for a toolset to go after a knock in the air filtration system. It hadn't been a problem until he'd gone for a nap in his own quarters--he still slept better there than in the guest quarters Helena's family had offered him, even after more than a month--and found himself staring up at the ceiling, counting down the seconds until the next one.
"Problem?" he asked, not quite absently, but Sascha shook his head.
Must've knotted his hair back recently; nothing came loose when he moved. Lev Petrovich nodded, went past and grabbed the nearest portable kit from the hook by the spare wire-spools, started back out.
"We're about as good as we're going to get," Sascha said as he went past again. "Maybe another two days to finish tracing that fault the kid was talking about, and this--" he jerked his head towards the mess of wires he was fighting with, "but we're about done."
Lev Petrovich paused mid-stride, blinked. Blinked again, mentally running down the task-list written on the side of the stove, found that his own tally mostly matched Sascha's. "Huh," he muttered.
After more than a month of nearly constant repair and upgrade work, he'd sort of gotten into the rhythm of things. The kid had dropped into the locals' schedule with barely a blip, slept soundly with open windows and had worked out how to get the kitchen samovar to produce tea in under five minutes. Lev Petrovich--when he wasn't the one sleeping aboard the Swallow to make sure nobody came sniffing around a solitary horse--had taken to waiting until after he heard the kid banging down the stairs to go for tea.
Which was still fucking embarrassing, but not actually relevant. "Thanks," he told Sascha, who grunted acknowledgement, most of his attention on the wires he was apparently sorting by feel. Lev Petrovich hoped the breaker was cold.
Forty minutes later, annoying knock finally silent, he returned the toolbag--Sascha had finished up whatever he'd been up to with the panel and buttoned it up again--and went looking for Helena.
The sound of water hissing led him down towards cargo two. Back where they belonged, that sound would be terrifying, but here it just meant someone was in the cold-water shower the kid and Sascha had rigged up while the banya was out of commission.
It'd seen far more use than Lev Petrovich had expected after his own first brief foray. They hadn't been joking about it being cold. His teeth had been chattering by the time he'd finished scrubbing off, though he'd been dry and too-warm by the time he'd gotten back to the house. He hated summer.
Helena hated it more, which he hadn't really expected. Should've, thinking back, but hadn't.
He wasn't stupid enough to walk in on her, so banged on the mostly-closed door of the cargo hold and leaned back against the wall to wait.
The water cut off after a couple of minutes, and she made a dripping, dressed appearance shortly after. "Yeah?"
"Think we're about ready to finish up," he told her, ignoring the way her unbound hair was curling around her face, dripping onto her borrowed shirt.
Her family had been generous--more than generous--with time and space and all the spare parts they could lay their hands on. With two engineers in residence at the family house, besides what the kid and Sascha could put together, that was a lot of parts. Swallow was in the best shape she'd been in years. They'd re-done almost every one of her plans, even made notes as to what had been updated and when.
But he was so ready to leave. Ready to be back in temperature-controlled space, to actually know how to operate a damned samovar, to see Helena in black or blue or grey, instead of borrowed brown stitched in gold.
Helena huffed her dry half-laugh. "Took long enough," she said, and he coughed a laugh of his own.
Nice to know he wasn't the only one waiting to be released back up into the black. "Where's the kid?"
"Where else?" she rolled her eyes before turning away to prop the cargo door mostly open. They'd found it increased the rate the free water got sucked back into the filtration system. "Head, tweaking something in the stirrups."
Lev Petrovich almost rolled his eyes at himself. "They needed tweaking?"
She snorted, ducking past him so he wound up trailing her up into the living areas of the horse. "He had the manual out last night. Must've been something annoying he thought he could fix," which Lev Petrovich couldn't exactly argue with, considering the knock he'd just spent forty minutes chasing down.
The borrowed shirt made her look more like her nieces than usual, which was disconcerting. Usually he found himself seeing her in them, had occasionally caught himself from just tossing a tool across a room. At least she was still moving like herself, for all the dripping.
When she paused at the kitchen to wring out her hair over the washer, he slipped past her, heard her following bootsteps after a moment. He made space for her when he swung himself up into the horse's head, saw her poke head and arms up into the space from the corner of his eye.
"We're about done," he said when the kid looked up, and suppressed a smile when the kid spat a screw into his hand to say "Oh thank God."
Should've remembered the kid was a rider first, not an apprentice engineer. Sledges had to be boring. "Thinking another couple days," he added, "unless something left on the list goes up in our faces."
Of the three of them, Helena was the only one who didn't make some sort of absent gesture and touch a bit of the horse. She only snorted, crossing her arms on the deckplate as she leaned on her elbows. "Let's avoid a repeat of the banya."
"'Least it wasn't in the black," the kid said philosophically, screwing down the panel he'd had open. "Did you need me down in--?" he started, looking up, but Lev Petrovich shook his head. Glanced over when he saw movement, found he and Helena had shaken their heads in unison.
"You and Helena can head back to the house," he told them, trying not to sound amused. "Get a list of what supplies we don't have and do a run to the market."
Helena grumbled something in Byzanti, but nodded. "I'll see what the girls don't have and do a run for them, too."
"Kyriake said that we shouldn't get Theodora any more goddamned coffee," the kid said, stumbling slightly over the intonation, but steadying down when he didn't get corrected.
Helena snorted, unfolding herself from the deckplate and dropping down into the neck. "We'll get some baklava to go with it, then," her voice drifted up to them, and he and the kid exchanged a bemused glance before the kid ducked out from behind the saddle and loped after her.
Lev Petrovich did a habitual confirmation that everything had been put away, then took himself off, looking for Sascha.
He might go for that nap afterwards.