After (Summer Challenge, Cheeseburger, Chocolate Chip Mint)
‘Verse: The Sun, Radiant
Challenges/Toppings/Extras: Summer Challenge ‘14: Special Brownie #24 (But, given time, I'll be fine), Cheeseburger #3 (oh noes), Chocolate Chip Mint #2 (fuzzy) + Pocky Chain + Cherry (the last one) + Hot Fudge (also last one)
Title: After
Summary: A king recovers, a queen frets, and the First Consort hunts his prey.
Notes: I love how much feedback I’m getting on this ‘verse! =D This is more a bridge piece than anything monumental, though, sorry.
Mesvati stood over the sink, running the medical instruments under the cool waters to get as much of the blood off as she could before they would go in the boiling pot to clean. The Fallstar king bled more than she’d seen anyone bleed before, so much that he should’ve been dead twice over. But, somehow, he’d been at Death’s door, knocked, and still managed to escape before he crossed the threshold.
“Girl,” called the senior healer, and she laid the instruments aside to help change the bandages. Matthew breathed down their necks; he’d been on constant watch for days.
~*~
Gavin was stable, but still unconscious. The best healers in the city worked day and night while he battled the wound, and I slept for an hour here, two there during this time while my agents gathered the information I needed and I desperately tried to avoid an international incident. Ravir hadn’t returned, compounding my worry. Of course he was fine, I told myself. He wasn’t my guard-consort for nothing.
Just like my sister to strike at me indirectly. Just like my sister to use a poisoned knife.
Her crusade had been festering too long.
Time to end it.
~*~
You’ve been running for hours. Though he has not caught you yet, you swear you can see the lithe figure flitting through the trees; sometimes behind, sometimes to the side as you dart through the underbrush. He has you, you know, and you will not survive this if you are lucky, but the stink of fear is all around you, and you keep running. Your muscles throb and burn like the wound you delivered to the western king must have; the scratches on your face and the tears in your eyes blur your vision. You are dead. You know it.
Challenges/Toppings/Extras: Summer Challenge ‘14: Special Brownie #24 (But, given time, I'll be fine), Cheeseburger #3 (oh noes), Chocolate Chip Mint #2 (fuzzy) + Pocky Chain + Cherry (the last one) + Hot Fudge (also last one)
Title: After
Summary: A king recovers, a queen frets, and the First Consort hunts his prey.
Notes: I love how much feedback I’m getting on this ‘verse! =D This is more a bridge piece than anything monumental, though, sorry.
Mesvati stood over the sink, running the medical instruments under the cool waters to get as much of the blood off as she could before they would go in the boiling pot to clean. The Fallstar king bled more than she’d seen anyone bleed before, so much that he should’ve been dead twice over. But, somehow, he’d been at Death’s door, knocked, and still managed to escape before he crossed the threshold.
“Girl,” called the senior healer, and she laid the instruments aside to help change the bandages. Matthew breathed down their necks; he’d been on constant watch for days.
~*~
Gavin was stable, but still unconscious. The best healers in the city worked day and night while he battled the wound, and I slept for an hour here, two there during this time while my agents gathered the information I needed and I desperately tried to avoid an international incident. Ravir hadn’t returned, compounding my worry. Of course he was fine, I told myself. He wasn’t my guard-consort for nothing.
Just like my sister to strike at me indirectly. Just like my sister to use a poisoned knife.
Her crusade had been festering too long.
Time to end it.
~*~
You’ve been running for hours. Though he has not caught you yet, you swear you can see the lithe figure flitting through the trees; sometimes behind, sometimes to the side as you dart through the underbrush. He has you, you know, and you will not survive this if you are lucky, but the stink of fear is all around you, and you keep running. Your muscles throb and burn like the wound you delivered to the western king must have; the scratches on your face and the tears in your eyes blur your vision. You are dead. You know it.