(no subject)
Pineapple #27. Don't Shoot the Messenger with Cookie Crumbs
Story : knights & necromancers
Rating : PG
Timeframe : 1260 (Ski & Lyssa on the run after the battle)
Word Count : 848
Cookie Crumbs : caught off guard
So, way back when, this was a big secret and I had a lot of fun dangling it in front of everyone's faces, Then I came out with the truth. But the story so heavily relies on the lie being kept up by the few in the know and believed by the rest, so I'd be willing to bet most of the people who read me take for granted that it's true. Anyway, here it is. Oh, and I've missed Ski, I need more of her!
When Ski managed to drag herself from the bathroom, she found Lyssa perched on the edge of the bed, sliding an assortment of blades into various slots in her boots and belt.
“Lyssa,” she said, bracing herself against the door frame as her stomach gave another wobble and she feared she might have to turn back. “There is something I have been needing to tell you.”
Lyssa frowned at a spot on one of her knives and gave it a scrape with her nail before shoving it into place at her hip. “I’m a little busy right now.”
“This is important.” Ski’s fingers tensed against the wood and she swallowed hard.
“So’s this,” said Lyssa, still not looking her way as another weapon slid home. After a moment without an answer from Ski, she sighed. “I’m listening; go on.”
“I… well, I have not been feeling terribly well lately,” Ski began quietly. She hadn’t exactly anticipated having this conversation with the back of her sister’s head.
“Yeah, could use a bit more sleep and a few less demons myself.”
“It’s not quite that…simple. I…”
She drew a deep breath, reminding herself that this was a subject better addressed early than later. Just as she’d opened her mouth again, Lyssa turned around, and she felt another lump rise in her throat. “Would you hand me the one on the dresser?” said Lyssa, without so much as batting an eye at the woman clinging to the door frame.
Ski frowned at the knife on the dresser. She pried her hand from the wood. “See, I had been thinking that it might be-”
“You know, if we’re going to get out of here before noon, you should probably think about getting dressed.”
Ski sighed. She retrieved the knife, turned it over and held out the hilt. “Lyssa,” she said, still uncertain. “I’ve done the figures and it has certainly been well more than a month since-”
Lyssa’s eyes were on the blade, and she shook her head and clucked her tongue as she took it from her. “Remind me to sharpen this sometime, would you?”
“Would you put that down and listen to me for a moment?” Ski snapped.
“I’m listening,” said Lyssa, unfazed. She tucked the knife in among the rest and reached for the next one on the mattress beside her.
“Lyssa, I’m pregnant.”
The weapon fell from Lyssa’s fingers back onto the mattress. “You’re what?” she said, turning to stare, open-mouthed, at her sister. Ski bit her lip and swallowed yet another lump and tears stung the corners of her eyes.
Lyssa turned away, launching herself from the bed to her feet to angrily pace the width of the small room, a string of curses pouring from her lips. After a moment, she turned to face her again, gesturing wildly. “How did this happen?”
“I suspect in the same manner these things usually do,” Ski said, quietly.
Lyssa choked on the beginnings of several responses before settling for “Very funny.” She shook her head, ran a hand over the back of her neck, and looked at Ski with such disbelief she wished she could melt right through the floor to escape it. “That’s not what I meant. Don’t you know better?”
“This is hardly the time for a lecture.”
“No, I suppose it’s a bit late for that.” Shaking her head again, she reached for the knife she’d dropped. She picked it up, turned it over, and tossed it back on the bed. “Now what do we do?”
“We keep going,” said Ski. “South, I think.” She twisted her hands together in front of her. This part she hadn’t thought much about. She’d rather hoped Lyssa would take charge once the dreaded word had gotten past her lips, but here she was still looking to her for direction. “A-at least until we lose the black cloaks on our tails,” she stumbled on. “Once we have put safe distance between ourselves and the necromancers, we can head back to the fort to look for-”
Lyssa drew herself up, arms crossed over her chest, and fixed her with a look that might have been at home on their mother. “Rune can handle himself,” she said, firmly. “We need to get you home.”
Now it was Ski’s turn to stare at Lyssa in shock. “But…” she started.
“But nothing,” said Lyssa. Her lips twitched as if she were fighting a smile and she uncoiled her arms. “This isn’t the way this conversation is supposed to go, you know.”
“Oh?” said Ski.
“Nah,” said Lyssa. “There’s supposed to be hugging or cheering or something, isn’t there?”
“There is also supposed to be a father,” Ski said, sourly. “And a distinct lack of hostile forces pursuing the mother.”
“Right,” said Lyssa, frowning at her boots. “I’m sorry, Ski. But you’ve got me,” she added, perking up a bit. She leaned out across the bed and caught her by the arm. “You’ve got me.”
Ski laid a hand over Lyssa’s and forced a smile as she squeezed it tight. “Thank you,” she said.
Story : knights & necromancers
Rating : PG
Timeframe : 1260 (Ski & Lyssa on the run after the battle)
Word Count : 848
Cookie Crumbs : caught off guard
So, way back when, this was a big secret and I had a lot of fun dangling it in front of everyone's faces, Then I came out with the truth. But the story so heavily relies on the lie being kept up by the few in the know and believed by the rest, so I'd be willing to bet most of the people who read me take for granted that it's true. Anyway, here it is. Oh, and I've missed Ski, I need more of her!
When Ski managed to drag herself from the bathroom, she found Lyssa perched on the edge of the bed, sliding an assortment of blades into various slots in her boots and belt.
“Lyssa,” she said, bracing herself against the door frame as her stomach gave another wobble and she feared she might have to turn back. “There is something I have been needing to tell you.”
Lyssa frowned at a spot on one of her knives and gave it a scrape with her nail before shoving it into place at her hip. “I’m a little busy right now.”
“This is important.” Ski’s fingers tensed against the wood and she swallowed hard.
“So’s this,” said Lyssa, still not looking her way as another weapon slid home. After a moment without an answer from Ski, she sighed. “I’m listening; go on.”
“I… well, I have not been feeling terribly well lately,” Ski began quietly. She hadn’t exactly anticipated having this conversation with the back of her sister’s head.
“Yeah, could use a bit more sleep and a few less demons myself.”
“It’s not quite that…simple. I…”
She drew a deep breath, reminding herself that this was a subject better addressed early than later. Just as she’d opened her mouth again, Lyssa turned around, and she felt another lump rise in her throat. “Would you hand me the one on the dresser?” said Lyssa, without so much as batting an eye at the woman clinging to the door frame.
Ski frowned at the knife on the dresser. She pried her hand from the wood. “See, I had been thinking that it might be-”
“You know, if we’re going to get out of here before noon, you should probably think about getting dressed.”
Ski sighed. She retrieved the knife, turned it over and held out the hilt. “Lyssa,” she said, still uncertain. “I’ve done the figures and it has certainly been well more than a month since-”
Lyssa’s eyes were on the blade, and she shook her head and clucked her tongue as she took it from her. “Remind me to sharpen this sometime, would you?”
“Would you put that down and listen to me for a moment?” Ski snapped.
“I’m listening,” said Lyssa, unfazed. She tucked the knife in among the rest and reached for the next one on the mattress beside her.
“Lyssa, I’m pregnant.”
The weapon fell from Lyssa’s fingers back onto the mattress. “You’re what?” she said, turning to stare, open-mouthed, at her sister. Ski bit her lip and swallowed yet another lump and tears stung the corners of her eyes.
Lyssa turned away, launching herself from the bed to her feet to angrily pace the width of the small room, a string of curses pouring from her lips. After a moment, she turned to face her again, gesturing wildly. “How did this happen?”
“I suspect in the same manner these things usually do,” Ski said, quietly.
Lyssa choked on the beginnings of several responses before settling for “Very funny.” She shook her head, ran a hand over the back of her neck, and looked at Ski with such disbelief she wished she could melt right through the floor to escape it. “That’s not what I meant. Don’t you know better?”
“This is hardly the time for a lecture.”
“No, I suppose it’s a bit late for that.” Shaking her head again, she reached for the knife she’d dropped. She picked it up, turned it over, and tossed it back on the bed. “Now what do we do?”
“We keep going,” said Ski. “South, I think.” She twisted her hands together in front of her. This part she hadn’t thought much about. She’d rather hoped Lyssa would take charge once the dreaded word had gotten past her lips, but here she was still looking to her for direction. “A-at least until we lose the black cloaks on our tails,” she stumbled on. “Once we have put safe distance between ourselves and the necromancers, we can head back to the fort to look for-”
Lyssa drew herself up, arms crossed over her chest, and fixed her with a look that might have been at home on their mother. “Rune can handle himself,” she said, firmly. “We need to get you home.”
Now it was Ski’s turn to stare at Lyssa in shock. “But…” she started.
“But nothing,” said Lyssa. Her lips twitched as if she were fighting a smile and she uncoiled her arms. “This isn’t the way this conversation is supposed to go, you know.”
“Oh?” said Ski.
“Nah,” said Lyssa. “There’s supposed to be hugging or cheering or something, isn’t there?”
“There is also supposed to be a father,” Ski said, sourly. “And a distinct lack of hostile forces pursuing the mother.”
“Right,” said Lyssa, frowning at her boots. “I’m sorry, Ski. But you’ve got me,” she added, perking up a bit. She leaned out across the bed and caught her by the arm. “You’ve got me.”
Ski laid a hand over Lyssa’s and forced a smile as she squeezed it tight. “Thank you,” she said.