Sethan's Pocky Chain
Cinnamon Swirl #3. Smoke and Mirrors
with Hot Fudge, Whipped Cream, and Malt
Story : knights & necromancers
Rating : R
Timeframe : 1243-1270's
Word Count : 1191 (12 part pocky chain)
Malt Prompt : Trick Or Treat - from Kiki - Law # 1: Never Outshine the Master.
Continuing with the character specific pocky chains. Again, if you haven't read before, and the giant index looks a bit daunting, these might give you a little taste for the whole story. They are, however, more glimpses into different portions than explanations.
Sethan is one of my major villains. (note, Kairn's chain, and a lot of his pieces, get hot fudge, but that is because he spends most of his time around Sethan and Reida and other unsavory folk. Kairn is a hero if anyone in the canon is) Sethan is also the avatar of the Life Goddess, Cheva. She likes to talk to him. A lot.
This way?
Yes.
Sethan turns the corner, hands in hs pockets, shoes scuffling at the cobbles. He kicks a loose pebble and watches as it goes skittering across the street.
A body shuffles along behind him, head bowed, hood drawn. Its bones creak and crunch, and its limbs sway and shoulders slump, and every now and then there is the soft thump of flesh on flesh as some part of it slides and settles a little lower on its frame. No one ever gets close enough to notice, so it serves its purpose well enough.
An eight-year-old can't travel alone.
"Ah, beautiful." Berwyk is stooped behind him, clapping his hands as he beams at the scrawl of lines on the floor. He catches Sethan's eye and raises one bushy brow. "Did she help you?" He taps a finger to his temple.
Sethan musters his best look of surprise. "Did who help me?"
Berwyk shakes his head, but he never stops smiling. "You know," he says, heading back to his desk. "You're not fooling anyone."
Sethan taps the end of his chalk on the floor and chews his lip for a moment. "What's a life goddess know about earth sigils anyway?"
He's practicing in the yard. Not that Sethan needs the practice, he's already memorized all the forms through the end of the book, even making improvements to a few. But practicing keeps everyone else from bothering him. Well, he frowns at the wide-eyed boy squatting like some overgrown bird a few feet away, almost everyone.
"What do you want?"
Kairn runs a hand through his hair. "If I sit near you, they," he jerks his head at the boys playing ball in the middle of the yard, "leave me alone."
Sethan shrugs.
"So...what are you working on?"
Sethan sighs.
"So." Ephram's leaning back in his chair, feet crossed on the table, leering down at a blood spattered Sethan as he works at carving a leg from the big, furry body sprawled on the floor before him. "Whose dog are you? Berwyk's or Cheva's?"
Sethan doesn't bother looking up until the blade snaps through the tendon he's been sawing at. "Neither."
"Good. Good," says Ephram, swinging his legs down off the table.
Sethan wipes his hands. "Don't think for a second that means I want to be yours either."
Ephram laughs. "The thought had never crossed my mind."
Are you not even going to look?
Look at what?
She can't point, nor can she forcibly turn his head, but she can suggest. It's sort of like an itch, and right now it's directing him towards Reida. He settles on the book lying open in her lap.
Weather manipulation? That's one I haven't seen before.
Not the book.
The sensation drags his gaze up to the dip in Reida's neckline that allows a view of her breasts, and his stomach twists.
You are not a child anymore.
Reida?
She is a female, is she not?
You might say that.
It's a quiet, sunny afternoon, the sort that's perfect for sitting under the willow with a pole in your hands, with nothing to do but watch your lure bob on the water. Or it would be, Sethan thinks, if Kairn hadn't brought that insufferable sister of his along. She has yet to shut her mouth for more than two minutes since they've arrived.
You know...
Sethan groans. Don't even say it. I've already figured she's the best choice.
Then what is taking you?
I already have to listen to you all day. You think I want two of you around?
How long do you intend to keep me waiting?
I have arrangements to make.
Shasa's smiling at him nervously, like she doesn't quite want to ask if something's wrong. Probably because he's trying to keep grinning through the effort not to grind his teeth.
Are all females so reprehensible to you?
He must have made a face at that, because Shasa starts to open her mouth.
It's not so simple as bedding her. Someone has to raise-
It's like something has smacked him on the back, and he falls forward, his hand landing on Shasa's. She squeezes it and smiles.
He's up on a rooftop, taking turns with Reida. And he supposes he could accomplish the same thing with a bit of silk and ink, but there's something satisfying about actually seeing the two of them now and then with his own eyes.
Kairn is in a chair...knitting, for gods' sakes. Funny thing is, if the half-finished sweater in his lap is any indication, he's actually not half bad at it. As for the boy, well, the word 'clone' comes to mind.
Do you not have better things to do?
Sethan waves her off. Wasn't this the point?
There's an inhuman, earsplitting wail rattling about the space between his ears, and, hands pressed like a vise to his head, Sethan goes down on his knees.
Why? Why? It's the first coherent thing he's heard in ten minutes.
What did you think they wanted to do with them?
For a moment she's silent. Sethan forces his eyes open. The charred field and broken bodies swim before him as the wordless screaming resumes. He grits his teeth and waves off Tristan's offer to help him stand.
You know, I am trying to fix this. I could do without all the shreiking.
The hand holding the ink is shaking violently. Sethan shoots Kairn a look and he hastily composes himself. He sets the pen to Sethan's neck and then pulls it away again. "She's not going to like this."
"She's not here right now."
"And when she finds out? What then?"
"Relax." He puts a hand over Kairn's. "She can't do anything to you without me."
Kairn's expression sours as he pulls his hand away. "It's not me I'm worried about."
"That," says Sethan, "is precisely why we're putting this mark on me."
You keep me waiting again.
Sethan keeps his eyes on the body. It's not hard to do, staring it the thing seems to be her only wish lately.
The lungs are holding things up. The tissue is not satisfactory yet.
You lie.
Oh?
Your desk. It is covered in death sigils. Do you wish to tell me what such things have to do with developing lung tissue?
There's an itch at the base of his neck, and Sethan wonders if she can hear him thinking about not thinking about things.
I need not see it to know it is there.
He's shaking. The scalpel is still in his hand and the blood is still dripping down his neck. Kairn has him by the shoulders and he's trying to catch his eye. He's shaking too, but he's trying to pretend he's not.
"Is she gone?" One hand eases up, ready to reach for the mark on his neck again.
Sethan tries to shrug him off and when that doesn't work, to swat him away.
"Yes, she's gone." He swipes a hand across his neck, looks at the blood smeared over his palm. "We'll need to find a new place for that."
with Hot Fudge, Whipped Cream, and Malt
Story : knights & necromancers
Rating : R
Timeframe : 1243-1270's
Word Count : 1191 (12 part pocky chain)
Malt Prompt : Trick Or Treat - from Kiki - Law # 1: Never Outshine the Master.
Continuing with the character specific pocky chains. Again, if you haven't read before, and the giant index looks a bit daunting, these might give you a little taste for the whole story. They are, however, more glimpses into different portions than explanations.
Sethan is one of my major villains. (note, Kairn's chain, and a lot of his pieces, get hot fudge, but that is because he spends most of his time around Sethan and Reida and other unsavory folk. Kairn is a hero if anyone in the canon is) Sethan is also the avatar of the Life Goddess, Cheva. She likes to talk to him. A lot.
This way?
Yes.
Sethan turns the corner, hands in hs pockets, shoes scuffling at the cobbles. He kicks a loose pebble and watches as it goes skittering across the street.
A body shuffles along behind him, head bowed, hood drawn. Its bones creak and crunch, and its limbs sway and shoulders slump, and every now and then there is the soft thump of flesh on flesh as some part of it slides and settles a little lower on its frame. No one ever gets close enough to notice, so it serves its purpose well enough.
An eight-year-old can't travel alone.
"Ah, beautiful." Berwyk is stooped behind him, clapping his hands as he beams at the scrawl of lines on the floor. He catches Sethan's eye and raises one bushy brow. "Did she help you?" He taps a finger to his temple.
Sethan musters his best look of surprise. "Did who help me?"
Berwyk shakes his head, but he never stops smiling. "You know," he says, heading back to his desk. "You're not fooling anyone."
Sethan taps the end of his chalk on the floor and chews his lip for a moment. "What's a life goddess know about earth sigils anyway?"
He's practicing in the yard. Not that Sethan needs the practice, he's already memorized all the forms through the end of the book, even making improvements to a few. But practicing keeps everyone else from bothering him. Well, he frowns at the wide-eyed boy squatting like some overgrown bird a few feet away, almost everyone.
"What do you want?"
Kairn runs a hand through his hair. "If I sit near you, they," he jerks his head at the boys playing ball in the middle of the yard, "leave me alone."
Sethan shrugs.
"So...what are you working on?"
Sethan sighs.
"So." Ephram's leaning back in his chair, feet crossed on the table, leering down at a blood spattered Sethan as he works at carving a leg from the big, furry body sprawled on the floor before him. "Whose dog are you? Berwyk's or Cheva's?"
Sethan doesn't bother looking up until the blade snaps through the tendon he's been sawing at. "Neither."
"Good. Good," says Ephram, swinging his legs down off the table.
Sethan wipes his hands. "Don't think for a second that means I want to be yours either."
Ephram laughs. "The thought had never crossed my mind."
Are you not even going to look?
Look at what?
She can't point, nor can she forcibly turn his head, but she can suggest. It's sort of like an itch, and right now it's directing him towards Reida. He settles on the book lying open in her lap.
Weather manipulation? That's one I haven't seen before.
Not the book.
The sensation drags his gaze up to the dip in Reida's neckline that allows a view of her breasts, and his stomach twists.
You are not a child anymore.
Reida?
She is a female, is she not?
You might say that.
It's a quiet, sunny afternoon, the sort that's perfect for sitting under the willow with a pole in your hands, with nothing to do but watch your lure bob on the water. Or it would be, Sethan thinks, if Kairn hadn't brought that insufferable sister of his along. She has yet to shut her mouth for more than two minutes since they've arrived.
You know...
Sethan groans. Don't even say it. I've already figured she's the best choice.
Then what is taking you?
I already have to listen to you all day. You think I want two of you around?
How long do you intend to keep me waiting?
I have arrangements to make.
Shasa's smiling at him nervously, like she doesn't quite want to ask if something's wrong. Probably because he's trying to keep grinning through the effort not to grind his teeth.
Are all females so reprehensible to you?
He must have made a face at that, because Shasa starts to open her mouth.
It's not so simple as bedding her. Someone has to raise-
It's like something has smacked him on the back, and he falls forward, his hand landing on Shasa's. She squeezes it and smiles.
He's up on a rooftop, taking turns with Reida. And he supposes he could accomplish the same thing with a bit of silk and ink, but there's something satisfying about actually seeing the two of them now and then with his own eyes.
Kairn is in a chair...knitting, for gods' sakes. Funny thing is, if the half-finished sweater in his lap is any indication, he's actually not half bad at it. As for the boy, well, the word 'clone' comes to mind.
Do you not have better things to do?
Sethan waves her off. Wasn't this the point?
There's an inhuman, earsplitting wail rattling about the space between his ears, and, hands pressed like a vise to his head, Sethan goes down on his knees.
Why? Why? It's the first coherent thing he's heard in ten minutes.
What did you think they wanted to do with them?
For a moment she's silent. Sethan forces his eyes open. The charred field and broken bodies swim before him as the wordless screaming resumes. He grits his teeth and waves off Tristan's offer to help him stand.
You know, I am trying to fix this. I could do without all the shreiking.
The hand holding the ink is shaking violently. Sethan shoots Kairn a look and he hastily composes himself. He sets the pen to Sethan's neck and then pulls it away again. "She's not going to like this."
"She's not here right now."
"And when she finds out? What then?"
"Relax." He puts a hand over Kairn's. "She can't do anything to you without me."
Kairn's expression sours as he pulls his hand away. "It's not me I'm worried about."
"That," says Sethan, "is precisely why we're putting this mark on me."
You keep me waiting again.
Sethan keeps his eyes on the body. It's not hard to do, staring it the thing seems to be her only wish lately.
The lungs are holding things up. The tissue is not satisfactory yet.
You lie.
Oh?
Your desk. It is covered in death sigils. Do you wish to tell me what such things have to do with developing lung tissue?
There's an itch at the base of his neck, and Sethan wonders if she can hear him thinking about not thinking about things.
I need not see it to know it is there.
He's shaking. The scalpel is still in his hand and the blood is still dripping down his neck. Kairn has him by the shoulders and he's trying to catch his eye. He's shaking too, but he's trying to pretend he's not.
"Is she gone?" One hand eases up, ready to reach for the mark on his neck again.
Sethan tries to shrug him off and when that doesn't work, to swat him away.
"Yes, she's gone." He swipes a hand across his neck, looks at the blood smeared over his palm. "We'll need to find a new place for that."