HM - Seeds of Madness
Title: Seeds of Madness
Rating: Teen, for swearing. Lots of it.
Characters: Rook, mentions of others, particularly Thom
Genre: General
Warnings: Again, I must mention the swearing. I think I use the f-word about a dozen times.
Word Count: 640
Summary: Rook is pissed, and Thom's the reason why.
Author's Note: The title doesn't really have anything to do with the story. I just needed a title of some sort, and it seemed to fit.
Seeds of Madness
It was the stupidest fucking situation in the world.
I'm not exactly the most observant person in the world. Sure, I notice the things I need to notice to stay alive and do my job: catapults, or wind, whatever. But to say that there was little else that I give even a first glance to (much less a second), is like saying the Ke-Han are kind of annoying: it's the biggest fucking understatement of the century. As far as I've ever been concerned, other than a good proper fight or something pretty in a skirt (and soon to be out of the skirt), there isn't a damn thing on the ground that's worth paying any attention to.
Which is why it pissed me off something fierce when the professor came to stay.
It was bad enough that th'Esar though he could get away with slapping the Dragon Corps. on the wrist like naughty children, and it was worse that they'd moved fucking 'Versity boy right into the Airman like some shit rookie. And it got even fucking worse with the little shit professor's sharing and caring bullshit. All that was already enough to make me spitting madder than I'd been in a long time. But the real pain in the ass?
I couldn't get the son-of-a out of my head.
It didn't seem to matter how much I tried to distract myself, how many times I flung my coin at the madam at Our Lady, or the barkeep at Pantheon, I still noticed every little movement, every weary sigh, every half-heard mumbled curse. I felt like some fucking high-born skirt, listening to everyone's conversations and keeping a close eye on everyone they could so they wouldn't miss a single bit of gossip. Only they at least learned something new, and I was still fumbling around in the dark and had no fucking clue why I even cared to begin with.
The professor. Thom. He had my full attention every minute of every day and he didn't even know it.
We sat around the table in the common room, playing some stupid game. Pretending to be other people and being all nicey-nice to everyone. Or something. I couldn't see the point. And really, I didn't care a bit. Yeah, I was supposed to be playing the Mary Margrave, and yeah, I was fucking pissed about it (and said so), but I was generally pissed at something anyway, so I didn't have to think about it much. Kind of like I didn't have to think much to come up with snide comments toward everyone at every possible opportunity. Anger and sarcasm, it was like breathing.
And unfortunately, it left me with plenty of room left over in my head to catch everything the professor did. The twisted smile he gave me when he handed me the damned card, the sarcasm I knew was reserved just for me, the twitch of his fingers every time I opened my mouth, like he'd like to ball them into a fist and haul off and hit my straight in he face. I almost wished he would; it'd save me the trouble of starting the fight myself and then getting it later from Adamo for not better controlling my anger.
I leaned my chair back on two legs, looking, I knew, like the very picture of arrogant disinterest. Let the professor snip at me. It wasn't like he was going to make me do anything I didn't want to. Thom's fingers twitched again before he looked away to award Niall another six fucking points for being a suck-up. I toyed with the end of a braid and watched the game play out, still only half-focused on it, and still half focused on the number of carefully unnoticed glances the professor shot my way before we were done.
Rating: Teen, for swearing. Lots of it.
Characters: Rook, mentions of others, particularly Thom
Genre: General
Warnings: Again, I must mention the swearing. I think I use the f-word about a dozen times.
Word Count: 640
Summary: Rook is pissed, and Thom's the reason why.
Author's Note: The title doesn't really have anything to do with the story. I just needed a title of some sort, and it seemed to fit.
Seeds of Madness
It was the stupidest fucking situation in the world.
I'm not exactly the most observant person in the world. Sure, I notice the things I need to notice to stay alive and do my job: catapults, or wind, whatever. But to say that there was little else that I give even a first glance to (much less a second), is like saying the Ke-Han are kind of annoying: it's the biggest fucking understatement of the century. As far as I've ever been concerned, other than a good proper fight or something pretty in a skirt (and soon to be out of the skirt), there isn't a damn thing on the ground that's worth paying any attention to.
Which is why it pissed me off something fierce when the professor came to stay.
It was bad enough that th'Esar though he could get away with slapping the Dragon Corps. on the wrist like naughty children, and it was worse that they'd moved fucking 'Versity boy right into the Airman like some shit rookie. And it got even fucking worse with the little shit professor's sharing and caring bullshit. All that was already enough to make me spitting madder than I'd been in a long time. But the real pain in the ass?
I couldn't get the son-of-a out of my head.
It didn't seem to matter how much I tried to distract myself, how many times I flung my coin at the madam at Our Lady, or the barkeep at Pantheon, I still noticed every little movement, every weary sigh, every half-heard mumbled curse. I felt like some fucking high-born skirt, listening to everyone's conversations and keeping a close eye on everyone they could so they wouldn't miss a single bit of gossip. Only they at least learned something new, and I was still fumbling around in the dark and had no fucking clue why I even cared to begin with.
The professor. Thom. He had my full attention every minute of every day and he didn't even know it.
We sat around the table in the common room, playing some stupid game. Pretending to be other people and being all nicey-nice to everyone. Or something. I couldn't see the point. And really, I didn't care a bit. Yeah, I was supposed to be playing the Mary Margrave, and yeah, I was fucking pissed about it (and said so), but I was generally pissed at something anyway, so I didn't have to think about it much. Kind of like I didn't have to think much to come up with snide comments toward everyone at every possible opportunity. Anger and sarcasm, it was like breathing.
And unfortunately, it left me with plenty of room left over in my head to catch everything the professor did. The twisted smile he gave me when he handed me the damned card, the sarcasm I knew was reserved just for me, the twitch of his fingers every time I opened my mouth, like he'd like to ball them into a fist and haul off and hit my straight in he face. I almost wished he would; it'd save me the trouble of starting the fight myself and then getting it later from Adamo for not better controlling my anger.
I leaned my chair back on two legs, looking, I knew, like the very picture of arrogant disinterest. Let the professor snip at me. It wasn't like he was going to make me do anything I didn't want to. Thom's fingers twitched again before he looked away to award Niall another six fucking points for being a suck-up. I toyed with the end of a braid and watched the game play out, still only half-focused on it, and still half focused on the number of carefully unnoticed glances the professor shot my way before we were done.