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Wedding Cake #1. Bachelorette Party
Story : knights & necromancers
Rating : PG
Timeframe : 1270
Word Count : 1024
Another point for my team for 1k+. It's been almost a year since I committed to marrying Ski off. The flavor of the month looks like a good opportunity to flesh that out a bit more. And I will keep working on catching up on reading.
It was the night before the wedding and Ski was perched on the edge of her bed, pinning row after row of silky blue ribbons to the blue gown that had taken up residence, draped over the shoulders of a dummy, at the center of her room. Lyssa lounged by the window, an open bottle and a pair of glasses on the table in front of her, watching. Hardly the sort of party one might expect to precede a royal wedding, but her sister was all the company Ski wanted tonight, even if she wasn’t being very good company at the moment.
“This is every bit as stupid as the first time you got married,” said Lyssa, idly swishing her drink about her glass.
Ski shot her a sideways look as she drove another pin through the fabric with a bit more force than was really necessary. “Are you here to help or just to criticize?”
“I’m here for the booze,” said Lyssa. She drained the last of her glass and poured herself another. She made to refill the other glass but stopped, frowning at it instead. “Speaking of which, you haven’t touched yours. If I were you, I’d want a drink right now.”
“I hardly think it would be wise to show up tomorrow suffering the aftereffects of a night of drinking.”
“Hardly think it’s wise to show up tomorrow at all,” Lyssa muttered. “Well, won’t let it go to waste, anyway,” she added, before downing half of Ski’s drink in a gulp.
Ski sighed. “Kindly remind me why I invited you here tonight?”
“Who else were you going to invite? Your new sisters?” Ski decided to keep her eyes on her work rather than give Lyssa’s tipsy giggling any notice. “You and Lonna pinning a wedding dress together. Might just pay to see that.”
“Actually, Lonna has been quite supportive.”
“You’re kidding,” said Lyssa, though her laughter came to an abrupt halt. “You didn’t,” she said, far more soberly.
“Didn’t what?”
“You did.” There was the sound of a glass striking the table, and Ski was certain Lyssa was staring at her in disbelief, but still she didn’t look. “You told him he could keep his mistress. I take it back; this is much more idiotic than your last marriage.” Ski looked up just in time to see Lyssa finish first her drink and then her own.
“I seem to recall you telling me it was a splendid idea when Mother first suggested it years ago.”
“I did, did I?” She was already pouring another. “Was probably drunk, then.” She set the bottle on the table and eyed the glass for a moment before setting it back beside it. “Ski, just how does this help you now?”
“It keeps me in Mother’s seat. The Queen would have me ousted for lack of connections or heirs, and,” she sniffed, “a history of cowardice.”
Lyssa snorted at that. “So, who’s she trying to replace you with?”
“Her sister, of course.” Another row done, she gave the dummy a gentle turn and began the next.
“Ha!” said Lyssa, rather loudly. “She’s barely even a Burnoire. She doesn’t deserve Mother’s seat. Who’s going to stand for that anyway?”
“Just about everyone, Lyssa,” Ski said quietly. “Where have you been?”
“Out earning a living. Got fewer connections than you do and a bastard and a bad attitude to go with my cowardice in case you forgot.” There was a drunken grin and a mocking gesture of toasting with her glass to go with this, but Ski still winced.
“I’m sorry, Lyssa.”
“S’alright,” she said and downed another half a glass. Ski squinted at the bottle. She hadn’t paid any attention to what it was Lyssa was drinking. Something dark amber, and very hard considering the results. “This is the last place I want to be.”
“I know.” She turned back to her pinning. “Thank you for coming, Lyssa. It means a lot to me to have you here.”
“You know I’ve always got your back.” Lyssa lurched to her feet and across the room. She fished a ribbon from Ski’s basket and grabbed a pin and tacked it to the bodice of the dress. “So you bag yourself a prince and you keep Mother’s seat,” she said. “So then what?”
Ski frowned at the awkwardly dangling ribbon, but said nothing about it, even as another joined it, continuing with the next row on the skirt instead. “We work on gathering allies and uncovering enemies among the council. There is a source to these demon strikes and it is not some distant cult; it is our own.”
“Well, we already know that.”
“Yes, but not precisely who, not how far up the ranks the corruption goes- you know Dalton suspects his own brother?”
Lyssa jabbed another pin into the dress, jerking her hand away with a yelp as she stuck her finger. “Which?” she said, around the bloody finger as she stuffed it in her mouth.
“Padric.” Ski gave the bodice a pinch and a pat, making sure there was no blood on it.
“He’s spent half his life playing ambassador to Ceylor,” said Lyssa, still sucking her finger.
“So you do pay attention.”
Lyssa shrugged. “I like to stay alive.”
“Speaking of staying alive,” said Ski, plucking the offending pin back out of the dress and reattaching it more carefully, “I do believe you are trying to turn me into a pincushion tomorrow. Perhaps it would be best if I finished up with the ribbons.”
“Suit yourself.” Lyssa looked relieved as she tossed the rest of her ribbons back into the basket and sank down onto the bed beside her.
“So, what about you?” said Ski, redoing another bit of Lyssa’s handiwork. “I have scarcely seen you since the move.”
“Told you this is the last place I want to be.”
“Well, besides staying alive and away from here, what have you been doing?”
There was that drunken grin again. “Kairn,” she said.
Ski rolled her eyes. “I knew I should not have asked.”
Lyssa shrugged. “Maybe you’re not the only one who’s ready to move on.”
Story : knights & necromancers
Rating : PG
Timeframe : 1270
Word Count : 1024
Another point for my team for 1k+. It's been almost a year since I committed to marrying Ski off. The flavor of the month looks like a good opportunity to flesh that out a bit more. And I will keep working on catching up on reading.
It was the night before the wedding and Ski was perched on the edge of her bed, pinning row after row of silky blue ribbons to the blue gown that had taken up residence, draped over the shoulders of a dummy, at the center of her room. Lyssa lounged by the window, an open bottle and a pair of glasses on the table in front of her, watching. Hardly the sort of party one might expect to precede a royal wedding, but her sister was all the company Ski wanted tonight, even if she wasn’t being very good company at the moment.
“This is every bit as stupid as the first time you got married,” said Lyssa, idly swishing her drink about her glass.
Ski shot her a sideways look as she drove another pin through the fabric with a bit more force than was really necessary. “Are you here to help or just to criticize?”
“I’m here for the booze,” said Lyssa. She drained the last of her glass and poured herself another. She made to refill the other glass but stopped, frowning at it instead. “Speaking of which, you haven’t touched yours. If I were you, I’d want a drink right now.”
“I hardly think it would be wise to show up tomorrow suffering the aftereffects of a night of drinking.”
“Hardly think it’s wise to show up tomorrow at all,” Lyssa muttered. “Well, won’t let it go to waste, anyway,” she added, before downing half of Ski’s drink in a gulp.
Ski sighed. “Kindly remind me why I invited you here tonight?”
“Who else were you going to invite? Your new sisters?” Ski decided to keep her eyes on her work rather than give Lyssa’s tipsy giggling any notice. “You and Lonna pinning a wedding dress together. Might just pay to see that.”
“Actually, Lonna has been quite supportive.”
“You’re kidding,” said Lyssa, though her laughter came to an abrupt halt. “You didn’t,” she said, far more soberly.
“Didn’t what?”
“You did.” There was the sound of a glass striking the table, and Ski was certain Lyssa was staring at her in disbelief, but still she didn’t look. “You told him he could keep his mistress. I take it back; this is much more idiotic than your last marriage.” Ski looked up just in time to see Lyssa finish first her drink and then her own.
“I seem to recall you telling me it was a splendid idea when Mother first suggested it years ago.”
“I did, did I?” She was already pouring another. “Was probably drunk, then.” She set the bottle on the table and eyed the glass for a moment before setting it back beside it. “Ski, just how does this help you now?”
“It keeps me in Mother’s seat. The Queen would have me ousted for lack of connections or heirs, and,” she sniffed, “a history of cowardice.”
Lyssa snorted at that. “So, who’s she trying to replace you with?”
“Her sister, of course.” Another row done, she gave the dummy a gentle turn and began the next.
“Ha!” said Lyssa, rather loudly. “She’s barely even a Burnoire. She doesn’t deserve Mother’s seat. Who’s going to stand for that anyway?”
“Just about everyone, Lyssa,” Ski said quietly. “Where have you been?”
“Out earning a living. Got fewer connections than you do and a bastard and a bad attitude to go with my cowardice in case you forgot.” There was a drunken grin and a mocking gesture of toasting with her glass to go with this, but Ski still winced.
“I’m sorry, Lyssa.”
“S’alright,” she said and downed another half a glass. Ski squinted at the bottle. She hadn’t paid any attention to what it was Lyssa was drinking. Something dark amber, and very hard considering the results. “This is the last place I want to be.”
“I know.” She turned back to her pinning. “Thank you for coming, Lyssa. It means a lot to me to have you here.”
“You know I’ve always got your back.” Lyssa lurched to her feet and across the room. She fished a ribbon from Ski’s basket and grabbed a pin and tacked it to the bodice of the dress. “So you bag yourself a prince and you keep Mother’s seat,” she said. “So then what?”
Ski frowned at the awkwardly dangling ribbon, but said nothing about it, even as another joined it, continuing with the next row on the skirt instead. “We work on gathering allies and uncovering enemies among the council. There is a source to these demon strikes and it is not some distant cult; it is our own.”
“Well, we already know that.”
“Yes, but not precisely who, not how far up the ranks the corruption goes- you know Dalton suspects his own brother?”
Lyssa jabbed another pin into the dress, jerking her hand away with a yelp as she stuck her finger. “Which?” she said, around the bloody finger as she stuffed it in her mouth.
“Padric.” Ski gave the bodice a pinch and a pat, making sure there was no blood on it.
“He’s spent half his life playing ambassador to Ceylor,” said Lyssa, still sucking her finger.
“So you do pay attention.”
Lyssa shrugged. “I like to stay alive.”
“Speaking of staying alive,” said Ski, plucking the offending pin back out of the dress and reattaching it more carefully, “I do believe you are trying to turn me into a pincushion tomorrow. Perhaps it would be best if I finished up with the ribbons.”
“Suit yourself.” Lyssa looked relieved as she tossed the rest of her ribbons back into the basket and sank down onto the bed beside her.
“So, what about you?” said Ski, redoing another bit of Lyssa’s handiwork. “I have scarcely seen you since the move.”
“Told you this is the last place I want to be.”
“Well, besides staying alive and away from here, what have you been doing?”
There was that drunken grin again. “Kairn,” she said.
Ski rolled her eyes. “I knew I should not have asked.”
Lyssa shrugged. “Maybe you’re not the only one who’s ready to move on.”