Strawberry Cheesecake #1
Strawberry Cheesecake #1. Cake
Story : knights & necromancers
Rating : PG
Timeframe : 1275 (follows this
Word Count : ~700
Continuing the cleanup the hodgepodge notes and scraps that were all I got out of nano. Just a bit of Lyssa & Sham.
Lyssa made her way through the palace halls, one more figure amid the bustling flow of bodies that coursed through the neat grid of corridors. She walked briskly, navigating by habit, too occupied with princes and plots to think about where she was going. She passed the turn that would have led her towards Mara’s room without hesitation, but soon found herself outside the dining halls rather than the stables.
The smells that drifted through the open double doors sent her stomach churning, and Lyssa paused, suddenly reminded that she hadn’t eaten since they had set out that morning. Sham had to be hungry by now too, she reasoned. Certainly he’d rather she take a few extra minutes and come back with food.
She slipped inside the dining hall and sidled up to one of the buffet tables and soon her pockets were bulging with sweets. She pulled her flask from the concealed pocket in the lining of her cloak and met more than a few disdainful looks from about the room with a glare of her own as refilled it from the nearest bottle of wine. Let them grumble and gossip about her all they want; she’d be gone soon enough.
About to replace the cap on the flask, she frowned at it a moment, and took a swig instead. Then a second. And a third. She had to top it off twice before she was done, earning herself a few more none too subtle looks of reproach from those who passed her to fill plates and glasses of their own.
The flask, satisfactorily heavy once more, slid back into place against her ribs and she strode from the room, the cake and cookie laden cloak bouncing against her hips.
“You’re late,” said Sham, as Lyssa sent the stable hand off to fetch their horses. “And it’s getting cold.” He was curled on a bench in one of those awkward positions he seemed so fond of, that made him appear a jumble of nothing but knees and elbows and made Lyssa’s back ache just to look at, with a dog-eared book clutched in both hands, which he stuffed into a pocket as she approached.
“Here, take my cloak.” She shrugged out of it and tossed it his way. Shamino dodged with surprising speed for one who had both his backside and his feet on the same narrow ledge, and the cloak hit the bench beside him with a loud, hard thunk.
“Watch where you throw that! Or at least take your booze out before you go throwing it at me!” Sham snapped, though it was the lower half of the cloak, the pockets straining to contain their load of dessert, that had his attention, as he gathered it up from the bench.
“Right, give that here.”
Sham ignored her, throwing her cloak on over his own, sliding his arms through the oversized sleeves and proceeding to rifle through the sweets instead. “Hey, is that cake?” He pulled out a small, paper-wrapped loaf and his eyes grew wide.
“Yeah. Happy birthday.”
He quickly peeled the paper from the cake. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten,” he said, the last of it barely intelligible around the cake he’d stuffed in his mouth.
“Don’t I wish. No offense, kiddo,” she quickly added.
Sham was pulling another treat from his pocket before he’d finished. “None taken.”
The stable worker returned with their horses. Lyssa pressed a coin into his hand as she took the reins, and he headed back into the barn, leaving them alone to consider the next leg of their journey.
Sham brushed his hands off on the cloak and climbed into the saddle. “You think maybe next year we could both forget it?” he asked, a bit less cheerfully.
“Sham-”
“So, is the cake dinner, then?” He pulled another from his pocket and gave it a thoughtful look.
“Nah,” said Lyssa, mounting her own horse. “We’ll stop somewhere once we put enough distance between ourselves and this hellhole.”
“Somewhere with real beds?”
“No, I’m going to make you sleep on the ground on your birthday.” Her horse passed Sham’s as he juggled his reins and the unwrapping of the third cake. “Yes. Real beds.”
Story : knights & necromancers
Rating : PG
Timeframe : 1275 (follows this
Word Count : ~700
Continuing the cleanup the hodgepodge notes and scraps that were all I got out of nano. Just a bit of Lyssa & Sham.
Lyssa made her way through the palace halls, one more figure amid the bustling flow of bodies that coursed through the neat grid of corridors. She walked briskly, navigating by habit, too occupied with princes and plots to think about where she was going. She passed the turn that would have led her towards Mara’s room without hesitation, but soon found herself outside the dining halls rather than the stables.
The smells that drifted through the open double doors sent her stomach churning, and Lyssa paused, suddenly reminded that she hadn’t eaten since they had set out that morning. Sham had to be hungry by now too, she reasoned. Certainly he’d rather she take a few extra minutes and come back with food.
She slipped inside the dining hall and sidled up to one of the buffet tables and soon her pockets were bulging with sweets. She pulled her flask from the concealed pocket in the lining of her cloak and met more than a few disdainful looks from about the room with a glare of her own as refilled it from the nearest bottle of wine. Let them grumble and gossip about her all they want; she’d be gone soon enough.
About to replace the cap on the flask, she frowned at it a moment, and took a swig instead. Then a second. And a third. She had to top it off twice before she was done, earning herself a few more none too subtle looks of reproach from those who passed her to fill plates and glasses of their own.
The flask, satisfactorily heavy once more, slid back into place against her ribs and she strode from the room, the cake and cookie laden cloak bouncing against her hips.
“You’re late,” said Sham, as Lyssa sent the stable hand off to fetch their horses. “And it’s getting cold.” He was curled on a bench in one of those awkward positions he seemed so fond of, that made him appear a jumble of nothing but knees and elbows and made Lyssa’s back ache just to look at, with a dog-eared book clutched in both hands, which he stuffed into a pocket as she approached.
“Here, take my cloak.” She shrugged out of it and tossed it his way. Shamino dodged with surprising speed for one who had both his backside and his feet on the same narrow ledge, and the cloak hit the bench beside him with a loud, hard thunk.
“Watch where you throw that! Or at least take your booze out before you go throwing it at me!” Sham snapped, though it was the lower half of the cloak, the pockets straining to contain their load of dessert, that had his attention, as he gathered it up from the bench.
“Right, give that here.”
Sham ignored her, throwing her cloak on over his own, sliding his arms through the oversized sleeves and proceeding to rifle through the sweets instead. “Hey, is that cake?” He pulled out a small, paper-wrapped loaf and his eyes grew wide.
“Yeah. Happy birthday.”
He quickly peeled the paper from the cake. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten,” he said, the last of it barely intelligible around the cake he’d stuffed in his mouth.
“Don’t I wish. No offense, kiddo,” she quickly added.
Sham was pulling another treat from his pocket before he’d finished. “None taken.”
The stable worker returned with their horses. Lyssa pressed a coin into his hand as she took the reins, and he headed back into the barn, leaving them alone to consider the next leg of their journey.
Sham brushed his hands off on the cloak and climbed into the saddle. “You think maybe next year we could both forget it?” he asked, a bit less cheerfully.
“Sham-”
“So, is the cake dinner, then?” He pulled another from his pocket and gave it a thoughtful look.
“Nah,” said Lyssa, mounting her own horse. “We’ll stop somewhere once we put enough distance between ourselves and this hellhole.”
“Somewhere with real beds?”
“No, I’m going to make you sleep on the ground on your birthday.” Her horse passed Sham’s as he juggled his reins and the unwrapping of the third cake. “Yes. Real beds.”