[Wild Roses] Some Kind of Love Song
Title: so much for winter being quiet
'Verse/characters: Some Kind of Love Song; Arianhrod, Ulysse, Takashi
Prompt: goshawk: "the taste of copper and lightning"
Word Count: 1194
Notes: falls somewhere between a gentle sort of intimacy and on the hazards of sharing a bed.
---------
"Arianhrod," a familiar voice said in my ear, and my eyes snapped open to find myself looking up at a vaguely familiar ceiling, with newly-familiar fingers brushing at my side, claws trimmed and filed down last night after I'd complained that he'd nearly scratched me through inattention. I was still mildly surprised he'd done it.
"This had better not be a pomegranates affair," I told the air aloud and ignored the way the owner of the fingers startled himself out of sleep and nearly off the bed.
"Would I do that to you?" Ulysse asked me, his swallowed laughter rolling around me like the smell of cooking molasses, and I smiled without intending to.
The fox rolled over, stuck his head under his pillow and visibly tried to go back to sleep. I tried not to laugh at the gently affronted curve of his shoulderblades beneath the covers. Ulysse would wonder why I was laughing, and at who.
"In a heartbeat," I replied as I sat up, legs curling in to support me as I started scratching at my scalp, fingers digging into the fuzzy remains of yesterday's braid. "What did you want?"
"I have to want something beyond the pleasure of hearing your voice?"
"If you just wanted to talk you'd have waited for a different hour, brother mine. Out with it, so I can say no and we can both be about our days."
"Fintain nearly caught a cannon to the chest yesterday afternoon."
My fingers paused mid-scratch, and I heard my voice freeze over as I said "What was he doing, that that happened?"
My fox extracted his head from the pillow, gave me a questioning look, but I waved him off, still glaring at the wall, and he curled up where he could watch me without touching.
"Tangling with one of the tributary barons," Ulysse told me, "They'd put a gun placement on a hill the spring flood had undercut. I don't know that it was intentional, but--"
"If it was, that was a clever trick," I finished, sighed, and pulled my mussed braid from my back to wrap across my throat, though my brother couldn't see me. "You want another set of eyes to look for things like that?"
"Frankly I want you to keep Dón and Ruadhan from trying to roll right over about four barons in retaliation. Fin nearly dropped the cannon on Ruadhan in his hurry to get it off himself." Ulysse sighed, and I felt like it should be ruffling my hair, it tickled my ear so. "It's not your fight, Aria," and wasn't that a cheat, using Fintain's pet name for me, "but I think we could use the help."
I scrubbed at my face, my eyes, for a few moments while I thought, then sighed myself. "I'm bathing first, and finding my boots. I'll call for a beacon once I do."
"Merci beacoup," he said.
"Thank me after I thump the boys, brother mine." I let the connection go, sighed, and stretched my back as fully as I could while sitting tailor-fashion on a soft bed.
"Trouble?" the other occupant of the bed inquired, sounding idle, but the way he was lying watching me said he was really anything but.
"It's always something," I replied, and slid out from between the covers, looked over my shoulder at him. "Bathe with me?"
"Gladly!"
I let him braid my hair afterwards--I had the oddest feeling he'd used more strands than I was accustomed to, and a few touches confirmed it. I was wearing a nine-stranded braid, not a five, and from the feel of it the few bobbles in which strand belong where might have been intentional. I didn't bother putting in earrings, either, left the spells I normally wore tangled in my braid and the metal in my ears un-gestured, un-thought.
As I pulled my boots on, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking at my feet, not at him, I asked "Do you have a skin you feel comfortable wearing for a few days?"
When I looked back up I found myself meeting eyes with a stranger, until he gave me a crooked grin and the laugh-lines around his mouth formed a familiar pattern. His hair was brown, trimmed thumb-length close to his head, the strands straw-straight and straw-coarse, with no hint of curl. The golden-yellow of his eyes had faded to blue-grey, a colour made slightly brighter by the golden tan he was sporting over newly fair skin, and he'd gained two or three thumb-spans of height, all of it in leg.
I blinked at him, then reached down, flicked his sweater out from beneath the bed with more intent than touch, and tossed it to him. "How should I know you? You can't use the navigator-apprentice with Ulysse actually around."
"Oh, was that who you were talking to?" he grinned at me briefly, then ducked the pillow I tossed at him.
"I was in a court you visited this last winter," he said then, and I paused, the second pillow hovering next to my hand, ready to throw. "I nearly picked a mage-fight without knowing what I was doing, and you just about hit me in the face with a lightning bolt before you realised what was going on." He smiled at me again, and the smile was a little more unfamiliar this time. "I tasted copper and lightning for days afterwards, and because I'm a little mad, I teased you about being a firebird, made you cherries in the depths of the winter, and you actually laughed."
"Did I?" I shot back as I let the pillow drop, hooked the other one back into place, trying not to laugh at him and prove him right.
"You did," he replied, and this time grinned at me with nothing but his eyes, and that was wholly familiar. "We're still courting. Or rather," he amended, "I'm courting, and you haven't decided whether or not to actually hit me with a lightning bolt."
"I suppose I'm letting you tag along after me in the hopes of being able to make that decision," I said, standing up, and let him kiss both my cheekbones with faintly chapped lips. He smelled of a faintly spicy soap he hadn't used when he bathed with me, which was disconcerting, and I wanted to blame it on that eighth tail. He'd always smelled much the same while he was annoying me in the wood.
He pulled back just enough for me to see the sunny smile on his face. "Precisely."
"Well, fire-bird lover," I said, curving my lips in a slightly wicked smile up at him. "What names do you wear, so my brothers know what to yell in case someone tries to drop a tree or a cannon on you?"
"To stick with the theme I should really be Vanya or Ivan, but I think that might be a little obvious." He pretended to consider. "Jack?"
"Have a surname?" I challenged, and he blinked.
"Taylor, Savage, Martin, or Gibson?"
I blinked back, then half-shrugged, wondering where in Winter he'd come up with those that quickly, because that'd looked like reflex. "I think not Savage," I offered. "You will have to wear the name a while."
"I like Gibson," he replied cheerfully. "Shall we?"
"Ulysse," I said aloud for reply, "Light me a beacon--and I'm bringing someone with me."
'Verse/characters: Some Kind of Love Song; Arianhrod, Ulysse, Takashi
Prompt: goshawk: "the taste of copper and lightning"
Word Count: 1194
Notes: falls somewhere between a gentle sort of intimacy and on the hazards of sharing a bed.
---------
"Arianhrod," a familiar voice said in my ear, and my eyes snapped open to find myself looking up at a vaguely familiar ceiling, with newly-familiar fingers brushing at my side, claws trimmed and filed down last night after I'd complained that he'd nearly scratched me through inattention. I was still mildly surprised he'd done it.
"This had better not be a pomegranates affair," I told the air aloud and ignored the way the owner of the fingers startled himself out of sleep and nearly off the bed.
"Would I do that to you?" Ulysse asked me, his swallowed laughter rolling around me like the smell of cooking molasses, and I smiled without intending to.
The fox rolled over, stuck his head under his pillow and visibly tried to go back to sleep. I tried not to laugh at the gently affronted curve of his shoulderblades beneath the covers. Ulysse would wonder why I was laughing, and at who.
"In a heartbeat," I replied as I sat up, legs curling in to support me as I started scratching at my scalp, fingers digging into the fuzzy remains of yesterday's braid. "What did you want?"
"I have to want something beyond the pleasure of hearing your voice?"
"If you just wanted to talk you'd have waited for a different hour, brother mine. Out with it, so I can say no and we can both be about our days."
"Fintain nearly caught a cannon to the chest yesterday afternoon."
My fingers paused mid-scratch, and I heard my voice freeze over as I said "What was he doing, that that happened?"
My fox extracted his head from the pillow, gave me a questioning look, but I waved him off, still glaring at the wall, and he curled up where he could watch me without touching.
"Tangling with one of the tributary barons," Ulysse told me, "They'd put a gun placement on a hill the spring flood had undercut. I don't know that it was intentional, but--"
"If it was, that was a clever trick," I finished, sighed, and pulled my mussed braid from my back to wrap across my throat, though my brother couldn't see me. "You want another set of eyes to look for things like that?"
"Frankly I want you to keep Dón and Ruadhan from trying to roll right over about four barons in retaliation. Fin nearly dropped the cannon on Ruadhan in his hurry to get it off himself." Ulysse sighed, and I felt like it should be ruffling my hair, it tickled my ear so. "It's not your fight, Aria," and wasn't that a cheat, using Fintain's pet name for me, "but I think we could use the help."
I scrubbed at my face, my eyes, for a few moments while I thought, then sighed myself. "I'm bathing first, and finding my boots. I'll call for a beacon once I do."
"Merci beacoup," he said.
"Thank me after I thump the boys, brother mine." I let the connection go, sighed, and stretched my back as fully as I could while sitting tailor-fashion on a soft bed.
"Trouble?" the other occupant of the bed inquired, sounding idle, but the way he was lying watching me said he was really anything but.
"It's always something," I replied, and slid out from between the covers, looked over my shoulder at him. "Bathe with me?"
"Gladly!"
I let him braid my hair afterwards--I had the oddest feeling he'd used more strands than I was accustomed to, and a few touches confirmed it. I was wearing a nine-stranded braid, not a five, and from the feel of it the few bobbles in which strand belong where might have been intentional. I didn't bother putting in earrings, either, left the spells I normally wore tangled in my braid and the metal in my ears un-gestured, un-thought.
As I pulled my boots on, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking at my feet, not at him, I asked "Do you have a skin you feel comfortable wearing for a few days?"
When I looked back up I found myself meeting eyes with a stranger, until he gave me a crooked grin and the laugh-lines around his mouth formed a familiar pattern. His hair was brown, trimmed thumb-length close to his head, the strands straw-straight and straw-coarse, with no hint of curl. The golden-yellow of his eyes had faded to blue-grey, a colour made slightly brighter by the golden tan he was sporting over newly fair skin, and he'd gained two or three thumb-spans of height, all of it in leg.
I blinked at him, then reached down, flicked his sweater out from beneath the bed with more intent than touch, and tossed it to him. "How should I know you? You can't use the navigator-apprentice with Ulysse actually around."
"Oh, was that who you were talking to?" he grinned at me briefly, then ducked the pillow I tossed at him.
"I was in a court you visited this last winter," he said then, and I paused, the second pillow hovering next to my hand, ready to throw. "I nearly picked a mage-fight without knowing what I was doing, and you just about hit me in the face with a lightning bolt before you realised what was going on." He smiled at me again, and the smile was a little more unfamiliar this time. "I tasted copper and lightning for days afterwards, and because I'm a little mad, I teased you about being a firebird, made you cherries in the depths of the winter, and you actually laughed."
"Did I?" I shot back as I let the pillow drop, hooked the other one back into place, trying not to laugh at him and prove him right.
"You did," he replied, and this time grinned at me with nothing but his eyes, and that was wholly familiar. "We're still courting. Or rather," he amended, "I'm courting, and you haven't decided whether or not to actually hit me with a lightning bolt."
"I suppose I'm letting you tag along after me in the hopes of being able to make that decision," I said, standing up, and let him kiss both my cheekbones with faintly chapped lips. He smelled of a faintly spicy soap he hadn't used when he bathed with me, which was disconcerting, and I wanted to blame it on that eighth tail. He'd always smelled much the same while he was annoying me in the wood.
He pulled back just enough for me to see the sunny smile on his face. "Precisely."
"Well, fire-bird lover," I said, curving my lips in a slightly wicked smile up at him. "What names do you wear, so my brothers know what to yell in case someone tries to drop a tree or a cannon on you?"
"To stick with the theme I should really be Vanya or Ivan, but I think that might be a little obvious." He pretended to consider. "Jack?"
"Have a surname?" I challenged, and he blinked.
"Taylor, Savage, Martin, or Gibson?"
I blinked back, then half-shrugged, wondering where in Winter he'd come up with those that quickly, because that'd looked like reflex. "I think not Savage," I offered. "You will have to wear the name a while."
"I like Gibson," he replied cheerfully. "Shall we?"
"Ulysse," I said aloud for reply, "Light me a beacon--and I'm bringing someone with me."