Malt Dare
Rocky Road #12. A Classroom with Hot Fudge and MALT
Rating : G
Timeframe : 1258
Word Count : 713
My Malt dare from Sly. It wasn't really so much a dare as a request, I suppose - for some Sethan/Shasa.
Each footfall carefully planned, Shasa edged her way into the room. There was not so much as a creak, nor even a breath to betray her presence as she stalked towards the lone, slender figure bent over one of the many tables that lined the room.
“Does Kairn know you’re here?” Sethan asked, his eyes never leaving his work. All the breath she’d held flew from her lungs. Crossing her arms over he chest, she continued forward, resuming a normal pace.
“My brother is not my keeper.”
Still not a glance. “Nonetheless,” he said, pausing to dip his quill in the inkwell. “If he knew, you would not be here.” He tapped the pen sharply against the rim before returning to dragging it across the parchment.
“Your best friend would keep me away from you?”
“If he cares for you.”
Shasa rolled her eyes. “I don’t see what’s so scary about you.“
“Oh?” Thin lips curled into a grin.
“I think,” said Shasa, coiling her hand around the back of the chair beside him, “that it’s all an act so people will leave you alone.”
The grin widened. “Is that so?”
Shasa made a point of surveying the empty classroom. “Seems to be working.”
Sethan finally tore his gaze from the paper and leveled it at her. Shasa’s breath caught in her throat as it occurred to her that she’d never been quite so close to those eyes before. Cold, bright blue, they bored into hers, devouring, while returning no warmth of their own. “You’re here.”
“I know better,” she said. Those eyes were just another mask, another lie to keep everyone out. She drew the chair out and took a seat and focused on the drawings laid out before him. Every page was marked with circles, the insides of which were laced with shapes and sweeping lines. “These are beautiful.”
“You have never practiced the art?”
“Kairn wouldn’t- I mean, no. No, I haven’t.”
Sethan studied her a moment, then shuffled through the parchment. “Give me your scarf,” he said, drawing one piece from the pile.
Shasa gave the knot behind her neck a tug and the kerchief fell free, spilling layers of dark curls across her shoulders. Dangling the thing by a corner, she passed it to him. Eagerly waiting, as he carefully arranged the cloth inside one of his circles, she held her lips between her teeth and reminded herself it would not be best to flood the man with questions.
After a moment spent fussing with the scarf, Sethan settled back in his chair. He spread long delicate fingers and set them around the rim of the circle. Shasa held her breath as the scarf gave a twitch and then another and another. One corner lifted, raising the cloth on folds like tiny wings. Her jaw dropped as it drifted upward, awkwardly halting and swaying, until it hovered a foot above the table.
Sethan shot her another grin and she put a hand to her open mouth, warmth flooding her cheeks. The two watched in silence as the scarf gently shook itself and swooped and soared in broad streaks over the table before returning to where it began. Then Sethan breathed a sigh as his fingers left the ring and the cloth crumpled and plummeted towards the table. A flick of the wrist brought a hand beneath it and he snatched it from the air and gently draped it across Shasa’s palm.
“That,” she said, eyeing the once again lifeless piece of fabric hung over her hand, “From this.” She jabbed a finger at the drawing.
Sethan nodded.
“Teach me?”
“If you wish,” he said. “Meet me here tomorrow night.”
“I will,” she said, fighting to keep the words from tumbling into an incoherent babble, as she rose from her chair, the scarf gripped in one trembling hand. “And I won’t tell Kairn. Or anyone. Really. I swear.” He was still grinning at her from his seat.
Shasa moved to tie the scarf back around her hair. A hand stayed her arm. “It looks better down.” She hastily shoved as much of the cloth as would fit into a pocket, her cheeks burning.
“Tomorrow,” Shasa said, taking a few shaky steps backward, before turning and racing from the room.
Rating : G
Timeframe : 1258
Word Count : 713
My Malt dare from Sly. It wasn't really so much a dare as a request, I suppose - for some Sethan/Shasa.
Each footfall carefully planned, Shasa edged her way into the room. There was not so much as a creak, nor even a breath to betray her presence as she stalked towards the lone, slender figure bent over one of the many tables that lined the room.
“Does Kairn know you’re here?” Sethan asked, his eyes never leaving his work. All the breath she’d held flew from her lungs. Crossing her arms over he chest, she continued forward, resuming a normal pace.
“My brother is not my keeper.”
Still not a glance. “Nonetheless,” he said, pausing to dip his quill in the inkwell. “If he knew, you would not be here.” He tapped the pen sharply against the rim before returning to dragging it across the parchment.
“Your best friend would keep me away from you?”
“If he cares for you.”
Shasa rolled her eyes. “I don’t see what’s so scary about you.“
“Oh?” Thin lips curled into a grin.
“I think,” said Shasa, coiling her hand around the back of the chair beside him, “that it’s all an act so people will leave you alone.”
The grin widened. “Is that so?”
Shasa made a point of surveying the empty classroom. “Seems to be working.”
Sethan finally tore his gaze from the paper and leveled it at her. Shasa’s breath caught in her throat as it occurred to her that she’d never been quite so close to those eyes before. Cold, bright blue, they bored into hers, devouring, while returning no warmth of their own. “You’re here.”
“I know better,” she said. Those eyes were just another mask, another lie to keep everyone out. She drew the chair out and took a seat and focused on the drawings laid out before him. Every page was marked with circles, the insides of which were laced with shapes and sweeping lines. “These are beautiful.”
“You have never practiced the art?”
“Kairn wouldn’t- I mean, no. No, I haven’t.”
Sethan studied her a moment, then shuffled through the parchment. “Give me your scarf,” he said, drawing one piece from the pile.
Shasa gave the knot behind her neck a tug and the kerchief fell free, spilling layers of dark curls across her shoulders. Dangling the thing by a corner, she passed it to him. Eagerly waiting, as he carefully arranged the cloth inside one of his circles, she held her lips between her teeth and reminded herself it would not be best to flood the man with questions.
After a moment spent fussing with the scarf, Sethan settled back in his chair. He spread long delicate fingers and set them around the rim of the circle. Shasa held her breath as the scarf gave a twitch and then another and another. One corner lifted, raising the cloth on folds like tiny wings. Her jaw dropped as it drifted upward, awkwardly halting and swaying, until it hovered a foot above the table.
Sethan shot her another grin and she put a hand to her open mouth, warmth flooding her cheeks. The two watched in silence as the scarf gently shook itself and swooped and soared in broad streaks over the table before returning to where it began. Then Sethan breathed a sigh as his fingers left the ring and the cloth crumpled and plummeted towards the table. A flick of the wrist brought a hand beneath it and he snatched it from the air and gently draped it across Shasa’s palm.
“That,” she said, eyeing the once again lifeless piece of fabric hung over her hand, “From this.” She jabbed a finger at the drawing.
Sethan nodded.
“Teach me?”
“If you wish,” he said. “Meet me here tomorrow night.”
“I will,” she said, fighting to keep the words from tumbling into an incoherent babble, as she rose from her chair, the scarf gripped in one trembling hand. “And I won’t tell Kairn. Or anyone. Really. I swear.” He was still grinning at her from his seat.
Shasa moved to tie the scarf back around her hair. A hand stayed her arm. “It looks better down.” She hastily shoved as much of the cloth as would fit into a pocket, her cheeks burning.
“Tomorrow,” Shasa said, taking a few shaky steps backward, before turning and racing from the room.