This Dream Will Not Remember Me + Friendship From Spite
Title: Friendship From Spite
Story Continuity: Battle For the Sun
Flavors: Papaya 2: wouldn't you like to know, Blackberry 9: until proven guilty
Extra: Malt (PFaH: in the name of science : Kristen : the nightmare room), Cookie Crumbs (perspective shift, elaboration on a scene from Dangerous Things)
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 955
Summary: The first time another human being ever scared Jaida, it was with kindness.
"You know, you look like something I very much wish I could say I didn't remember waking up next to," Jaida said, jabbing a needle into Cyprian's arm. He was, for all intents and purposes, a sentient bruise, demon Chomu's venom running more familiarly through his veins than his own blood. Death waited for him in the eaves, and most of the infirmary was willing to let him go. This was what Jaida loved best about healing, though. Let death wait, Emissary or Ibis; all the gods would be taking back to hell with them would be the bitter sting of Jaida bitch slapping her mark into them. She withdrew the needle, placing it in an airtight tin. "I wish I knew if you were a vain man, Pinky, because your face is the most amazing blackmail material ever right now. I can't even tell for certain if you're human."
"Can he hear you?" a voice from behind Jaida said. She turned her head to see Kristen dithering in the doorway, still wearing the uniform the doctors had lent her when her clothes had proven irredeemable. Jaida said, "Some would say so, and I've heard it helps. I just adore the idea of insulting a man while he's down. You know what they say, you've never properly insulted someone's mother until you list their cause of death as "started acting her age." What brings you here, the human lesion?"
"His name is Cyprian," Kristen said, voice steely. "He's my friend, and he saved my life and Cliff's. Don't call him that."
"Gods, you're touchy. How about this, I'll do you one better and fix him," Jaida said. "So what's your story? How'd you meet?"
"Cliff and I ran away together," Kristen said. "We were both trapped in Daldain, in our own way, and we both wanted an out. We hid in Cyprian's greenhouse, and he protected us from our...pursuers. He joined us when we finally fled town. I don't know him well, but I get the feeling he was just as trapped in Daldain as we were. We've been running together for a few days now."
"Days? What, you just met and he's had to save both of you already?" Jaida said, as Cyprian began to stir in his bed.
"And he's complained about everything but that," Kristen said. "May I stay for a while?"
"Hey," Cyprian slurred, effectively overruling whatever Jaida may have said.
"Hello, Cyprian," Kristen said, the defensiveness falling away from her. Then she took him in - the deathly, undeniable sickness of him - and winced.
"How - how are you? The nurses released me earlier. They...said I could wear this - but never mind. How are you?"
"Dead, as you know," Cyprian said, his voice hampered by phlegm, hoarse, and distant. Kristen bit her lip, Jaida noticed, but was getting her discomfort under wraps. "But hurting. But shockingly good otherwise. I always knew I'd be meeting you one day, you know. Never thought you'd be hot. Mystic legends, you know, say you're...what do they say? Something about a forked tongue of silver. Or a silver tongue. You, though...pink tongue. No fork."
Kristen smiled, a conflicted, bittersweet upturn of her lips that made Jaida's eyes narrow. Oh, she had secrets to keep. And she'd lost someone before. Jaida didn't know how she missed that; there was something tragic in her smile, like she couldn't forget whatever happiness would come her way would leave as quickly as it came. Annoyance flared sudden and strong in Jaida's chest.
"Be happy," Cyprian said, speaking to Jaida. "You've got the world on a string these days. Probably always have."
Yeah, and Jaida needed someone to tell her that. She snorted, taking her tin in hand. "World on a string, right. The string's been fraying a bit these days."
"You'll get it back," Cyprian murmured, already mostly asleep again. "Even the most goodly folk turn to evil when nothing else works out. It's not working out for a lot of people."
Jaida laughed. He'd seemed like the cynical type in the weapon shop, but she wouldn't have guessed he'd be the type to spout fatalistic purple prose while smack bugfuck in the middle of a delirium. Taking Kristen by the arm, Jaida said, "Come on, princess, happy time with Pinky the Basket Case is over. Your man wants to see you."
They walked in silence for a minute, the infirmary alive with white noise around them. Then Kristen said: "I don't understand you."
"There's nothing to misunderstand," Jaida said. "I don't bother with duplicity unless I'm messing with folk or I want something bad enough. You've got nothing I want."
"That I don't believe," Kristen said. "You keep mentioning a grandmother, but you don't sound too fond of her, and everyone in town seems a little scared of you. You don't have anyone, do you? But my boys and I seek out dangerous things. That's why you've latched onto us, isn't it? That's why you volunteered to help Cyprian. You think you might have a chance."
"Oh, look who's found herself an armchair to shrink heads in," Jaida said. "I like being alone. Your Cyprian was just unusual, pretty, and there enough to be interesting. And here we are, Cliff's in there with Dr. Hess. Good luck looking for your needle in a hay factory, by the way."
"Thank you," Kristen said, despite Jaida's sarcasm. "And - you know, if you wanted to join us, get out of this place, well. We could use somebody like you."
"Yeah, bye," Jaida said, turning heel and walking away.
"Please think about it!" Kristen called to her.
And wouldn't it just serve her right when Jaida accepted that offer.
Title: This Dream Will Not Remember Me
Story Continuity: The Lethean Glamour
Flavors: Cheesecake 28: I know the kings of England and I quote the fights historical, Blackberry 20: slippery slope, Papaya 7: I've got your back
Extra/Topping: Pocky, Butterscotch (the night before King Leodane's assassination)
Rating: PG
Word count: 100
Summary: Advance warning that one's life is about to change does not necessarily ease along the transition.
Capricia rested in her cell. This was home. If she looked hard enough, she could find proof. The epitaphs for her dead siblings were still etched in her wall. Under her mattress remained bits of an old, secret doll. This was her home, happy or not. She belonged.
Which wasn't quite right. She was kept. The princes were home. Where would that leave her in the morning, with their father spat on her blade?
Seven was cold, but there was more comfort in the shiver of her presence than any sunbeam. She wasn't alone. For the first time, that was comforting.
Story Continuity: Battle For the Sun
Flavors: Papaya 2: wouldn't you like to know, Blackberry 9: until proven guilty
Extra: Malt (PFaH: in the name of science : Kristen : the nightmare room), Cookie Crumbs (perspective shift, elaboration on a scene from Dangerous Things)
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 955
Summary: The first time another human being ever scared Jaida, it was with kindness.
"You know, you look like something I very much wish I could say I didn't remember waking up next to," Jaida said, jabbing a needle into Cyprian's arm. He was, for all intents and purposes, a sentient bruise, demon Chomu's venom running more familiarly through his veins than his own blood. Death waited for him in the eaves, and most of the infirmary was willing to let him go. This was what Jaida loved best about healing, though. Let death wait, Emissary or Ibis; all the gods would be taking back to hell with them would be the bitter sting of Jaida bitch slapping her mark into them. She withdrew the needle, placing it in an airtight tin. "I wish I knew if you were a vain man, Pinky, because your face is the most amazing blackmail material ever right now. I can't even tell for certain if you're human."
"Can he hear you?" a voice from behind Jaida said. She turned her head to see Kristen dithering in the doorway, still wearing the uniform the doctors had lent her when her clothes had proven irredeemable. Jaida said, "Some would say so, and I've heard it helps. I just adore the idea of insulting a man while he's down. You know what they say, you've never properly insulted someone's mother until you list their cause of death as "started acting her age." What brings you here, the human lesion?"
"His name is Cyprian," Kristen said, voice steely. "He's my friend, and he saved my life and Cliff's. Don't call him that."
"Gods, you're touchy. How about this, I'll do you one better and fix him," Jaida said. "So what's your story? How'd you meet?"
"Cliff and I ran away together," Kristen said. "We were both trapped in Daldain, in our own way, and we both wanted an out. We hid in Cyprian's greenhouse, and he protected us from our...pursuers. He joined us when we finally fled town. I don't know him well, but I get the feeling he was just as trapped in Daldain as we were. We've been running together for a few days now."
"Days? What, you just met and he's had to save both of you already?" Jaida said, as Cyprian began to stir in his bed.
"And he's complained about everything but that," Kristen said. "May I stay for a while?"
"Hey," Cyprian slurred, effectively overruling whatever Jaida may have said.
"Hello, Cyprian," Kristen said, the defensiveness falling away from her. Then she took him in - the deathly, undeniable sickness of him - and winced.
"How - how are you? The nurses released me earlier. They...said I could wear this - but never mind. How are you?"
"Dead, as you know," Cyprian said, his voice hampered by phlegm, hoarse, and distant. Kristen bit her lip, Jaida noticed, but was getting her discomfort under wraps. "But hurting. But shockingly good otherwise. I always knew I'd be meeting you one day, you know. Never thought you'd be hot. Mystic legends, you know, say you're...what do they say? Something about a forked tongue of silver. Or a silver tongue. You, though...pink tongue. No fork."
Kristen smiled, a conflicted, bittersweet upturn of her lips that made Jaida's eyes narrow. Oh, she had secrets to keep. And she'd lost someone before. Jaida didn't know how she missed that; there was something tragic in her smile, like she couldn't forget whatever happiness would come her way would leave as quickly as it came. Annoyance flared sudden and strong in Jaida's chest.
"Be happy," Cyprian said, speaking to Jaida. "You've got the world on a string these days. Probably always have."
Yeah, and Jaida needed someone to tell her that. She snorted, taking her tin in hand. "World on a string, right. The string's been fraying a bit these days."
"You'll get it back," Cyprian murmured, already mostly asleep again. "Even the most goodly folk turn to evil when nothing else works out. It's not working out for a lot of people."
Jaida laughed. He'd seemed like the cynical type in the weapon shop, but she wouldn't have guessed he'd be the type to spout fatalistic purple prose while smack bugfuck in the middle of a delirium. Taking Kristen by the arm, Jaida said, "Come on, princess, happy time with Pinky the Basket Case is over. Your man wants to see you."
They walked in silence for a minute, the infirmary alive with white noise around them. Then Kristen said: "I don't understand you."
"There's nothing to misunderstand," Jaida said. "I don't bother with duplicity unless I'm messing with folk or I want something bad enough. You've got nothing I want."
"That I don't believe," Kristen said. "You keep mentioning a grandmother, but you don't sound too fond of her, and everyone in town seems a little scared of you. You don't have anyone, do you? But my boys and I seek out dangerous things. That's why you've latched onto us, isn't it? That's why you volunteered to help Cyprian. You think you might have a chance."
"Oh, look who's found herself an armchair to shrink heads in," Jaida said. "I like being alone. Your Cyprian was just unusual, pretty, and there enough to be interesting. And here we are, Cliff's in there with Dr. Hess. Good luck looking for your needle in a hay factory, by the way."
"Thank you," Kristen said, despite Jaida's sarcasm. "And - you know, if you wanted to join us, get out of this place, well. We could use somebody like you."
"Yeah, bye," Jaida said, turning heel and walking away.
"Please think about it!" Kristen called to her.
And wouldn't it just serve her right when Jaida accepted that offer.
Title: This Dream Will Not Remember Me
Story Continuity: The Lethean Glamour
Flavors: Cheesecake 28: I know the kings of England and I quote the fights historical, Blackberry 20: slippery slope, Papaya 7: I've got your back
Extra/Topping: Pocky, Butterscotch (the night before King Leodane's assassination)
Rating: PG
Word count: 100
Summary: Advance warning that one's life is about to change does not necessarily ease along the transition.
Capricia rested in her cell. This was home. If she looked hard enough, she could find proof. The epitaphs for her dead siblings were still etched in her wall. Under her mattress remained bits of an old, secret doll. This was her home, happy or not. She belonged.
Which wasn't quite right. She was kept. The princes were home. Where would that leave her in the morning, with their father spat on her blade?
Seven was cold, but there was more comfort in the shiver of her presence than any sunbeam. She wasn't alone. For the first time, that was comforting.