wildberry (DONE!), peppermint, cinnamon swirl.
Flavors: wildberry 4. car pool/commute. peppermint 25. horse
Characters: Alex & Kez
Rating: PG13
Story: Abbadon
Title: Learning Curve
Words: 655
Summary: Alex and Kez do what no one else in this universe seem capable of - go places and do things.
“I don’t understand,” Alex whined, batting at a spider web that stretched across the path ahead of him. “There has to be a faster way of getting there.”
Keziah paused part way through hacking away a sizeable branch to turn and fix him with her most withering glare.
“There is,” she informed him. “The way I came.”
“Oh,” he mumbled, bowing his head to avoid her eyes. “Right.”
“Lighten up, kid,” she sighed, resuming her previous hacking. “We’re both wanted at this point.”
“But how is that even-”
She cut him off impatiently. “‘Cause it’s not your fault we’re stuck here.”
“Oh.”
They made slow, silent progress through the dense bush for what could have been minutes or hours, interrupted only by the occasional whimper from Alex and the occasional curse from Keziah. Finally, Alex spoke up.
“I’m hungry.”
Keziah turned just long enough to offer another glare.
“Seriously though,” he continued. “You have training and stuff... shouldn’t you just be able to build fires and catch rabbits or something?”
“Alex,” the exasperation rang clear in her voice. “My ‘training’ centred solely around killing you. The only thing I can catch and cook for dinner is you. And,” she added, slightly hurt. “I made a fire last night.”
Alex seemed about to point out that after she succeeded in making said fire, it had promptly died, never to be recovered. His gaze wandered the moment the thought hit his tongue though, and when he did speak, the issue of fires was completely forgotten.
“Hey, Kez?”
She raised a light eyebrow at the shortening of her name, but said nothing, choosing instead to follow his gaze to a thinning in the trees not far off. There were colours there, and for the first time in days they weren’t green or brown.
“What is that?” He asked.
“How should I know?” She fired back, already making her way to the clearing. “Just be quiet,” she advised him.
There were simple tents, died deep royal blue, four black horses, and sacks of food and water. Alex and Keziah stared at the scene, and then one another, in open awe.
“Quick, before whoever owns all this comes back,” Keziah didn’t have to say a word - both of them had already found bags and were busy stuffing them with supplies. Once the camp was essentially cleared, Keziah gave the horses a long look.
“I am so sorry about this,” she muttered to the unknown owners of the camp, hopping easily onto the back of the biggest and glossiest animal.
Alex stood, dumbfounded, with his arms full of bundled bread. Keziah sighed.
“Put the bread in a bag, tie the bag to the saddle, and get on before anyone comes back,” she instructed him. Alex followed the first two instructions well enough, tying his bag to a small beast with a matted mane and a rough, uneven coat. “Alex, why in God’s name would you... Ugh, never mind.” She gave up trying to understand. “You don’t know how to ride a horse do you?”
He shook his head, embarrassed. When she slid off her mount and put her hands together to form a makeshift lift for him, she came face to face with a fresh brand on the smaller horse’s flank - the same symbol that had been burned into her own skin years ago.
“Shit,” she swore, boosting Alex up quickly and none too gently. Shapes were emerging now from the trees around them. She did the only thing she could think to do in that moment. With a quick flick of her knife she cut the ropes that tied back all four horses, leapt onto the back of the tallest one, and took off into the forest, Alex’s lead in hand.
Though she didn’t dare look back, she knew without question that the look on Alex’s face was one of absolute horror.
“Just don’t fall off!” She advised him, laughing exuberantly as the forest disappeared into a blur of green.
Flavors: cinnamon swirl 21. too many cooks.
Characters: Michael and Cassiel
Rating: PG13
Story: Abbadon
Title: Seriously do not cry over spilt eggs.
Words: 273
Summary: Pre- Breaking The Rules, when Michael is in a good, but oblivious, mood. Just fluff, honestly.
The fifth time they collided, Cassiel dropped eggs. “Michael, if you don’t get out of here this instant I swear I’ll-”
Michael cut him off, putting a hand over the spatula Cassiel had raised in threat and gently lowering it. “You’ll what?”
“I... Uh... I’ll mess up! And you’ll have to eat burnt pancakes for breakfast.”
Michael laughed and backed out of the kitchen, his hands raised in surrender. The table was as good a place as any to watch the morning unfold. It was always with strange fascination that he watched Cassiel work. He’d never known anyone to loathe mornings as much as Cassiel did - especially since as far as he could tell, Cassiel didn’t loathe anything. Yet without fail he would wake up with Michael and make breakfast while complaining loudly about unnatural times of day and the psychological damage of sleep deprivation. It wasn’t until recently that Michael had realised that Cassiel didn’t actually have to leave the house until well past noon.
When he looked up, several plates had appeared in front of him, and Cassiel was beaming proudly.
Michael watched Cassiel eat over his own heaping forkful of scrambled eggs, trying to define the emotion on the other man’s face. He was happily grumpy. There was no other way to explain it.
“Cass?”
“Hmm?” Cassiel’s mouth was full.
“What do you do after I go to work?” Michael asked.
“Sleep,” he grinned.
“Then why-”
“You’re a terrible cook,” this time was Cassiel’s turn to cut Michael off. “That’s all.”
“But I-”
“That’s all,” Cassiel repeated firmly, closing the topic.
They ate the rest of the meal in silence.
Characters: Alex & Kez
Rating: PG13
Story: Abbadon
Title: Learning Curve
Words: 655
Summary: Alex and Kez do what no one else in this universe seem capable of - go places and do things.
“I don’t understand,” Alex whined, batting at a spider web that stretched across the path ahead of him. “There has to be a faster way of getting there.”
Keziah paused part way through hacking away a sizeable branch to turn and fix him with her most withering glare.
“There is,” she informed him. “The way I came.”
“Oh,” he mumbled, bowing his head to avoid her eyes. “Right.”
“Lighten up, kid,” she sighed, resuming her previous hacking. “We’re both wanted at this point.”
“But how is that even-”
She cut him off impatiently. “‘Cause it’s not your fault we’re stuck here.”
“Oh.”
They made slow, silent progress through the dense bush for what could have been minutes or hours, interrupted only by the occasional whimper from Alex and the occasional curse from Keziah. Finally, Alex spoke up.
“I’m hungry.”
Keziah turned just long enough to offer another glare.
“Seriously though,” he continued. “You have training and stuff... shouldn’t you just be able to build fires and catch rabbits or something?”
“Alex,” the exasperation rang clear in her voice. “My ‘training’ centred solely around killing you. The only thing I can catch and cook for dinner is you. And,” she added, slightly hurt. “I made a fire last night.”
Alex seemed about to point out that after she succeeded in making said fire, it had promptly died, never to be recovered. His gaze wandered the moment the thought hit his tongue though, and when he did speak, the issue of fires was completely forgotten.
“Hey, Kez?”
She raised a light eyebrow at the shortening of her name, but said nothing, choosing instead to follow his gaze to a thinning in the trees not far off. There were colours there, and for the first time in days they weren’t green or brown.
“What is that?” He asked.
“How should I know?” She fired back, already making her way to the clearing. “Just be quiet,” she advised him.
There were simple tents, died deep royal blue, four black horses, and sacks of food and water. Alex and Keziah stared at the scene, and then one another, in open awe.
“Quick, before whoever owns all this comes back,” Keziah didn’t have to say a word - both of them had already found bags and were busy stuffing them with supplies. Once the camp was essentially cleared, Keziah gave the horses a long look.
“I am so sorry about this,” she muttered to the unknown owners of the camp, hopping easily onto the back of the biggest and glossiest animal.
Alex stood, dumbfounded, with his arms full of bundled bread. Keziah sighed.
“Put the bread in a bag, tie the bag to the saddle, and get on before anyone comes back,” she instructed him. Alex followed the first two instructions well enough, tying his bag to a small beast with a matted mane and a rough, uneven coat. “Alex, why in God’s name would you... Ugh, never mind.” She gave up trying to understand. “You don’t know how to ride a horse do you?”
He shook his head, embarrassed. When she slid off her mount and put her hands together to form a makeshift lift for him, she came face to face with a fresh brand on the smaller horse’s flank - the same symbol that had been burned into her own skin years ago.
“Shit,” she swore, boosting Alex up quickly and none too gently. Shapes were emerging now from the trees around them. She did the only thing she could think to do in that moment. With a quick flick of her knife she cut the ropes that tied back all four horses, leapt onto the back of the tallest one, and took off into the forest, Alex’s lead in hand.
Though she didn’t dare look back, she knew without question that the look on Alex’s face was one of absolute horror.
“Just don’t fall off!” She advised him, laughing exuberantly as the forest disappeared into a blur of green.
Flavors: cinnamon swirl 21. too many cooks.
Characters: Michael and Cassiel
Rating: PG13
Story: Abbadon
Title: Seriously do not cry over spilt eggs.
Words: 273
Summary: Pre- Breaking The Rules, when Michael is in a good, but oblivious, mood. Just fluff, honestly.
The fifth time they collided, Cassiel dropped eggs. “Michael, if you don’t get out of here this instant I swear I’ll-”
Michael cut him off, putting a hand over the spatula Cassiel had raised in threat and gently lowering it. “You’ll what?”
“I... Uh... I’ll mess up! And you’ll have to eat burnt pancakes for breakfast.”
Michael laughed and backed out of the kitchen, his hands raised in surrender. The table was as good a place as any to watch the morning unfold. It was always with strange fascination that he watched Cassiel work. He’d never known anyone to loathe mornings as much as Cassiel did - especially since as far as he could tell, Cassiel didn’t loathe anything. Yet without fail he would wake up with Michael and make breakfast while complaining loudly about unnatural times of day and the psychological damage of sleep deprivation. It wasn’t until recently that Michael had realised that Cassiel didn’t actually have to leave the house until well past noon.
When he looked up, several plates had appeared in front of him, and Cassiel was beaming proudly.
Michael watched Cassiel eat over his own heaping forkful of scrambled eggs, trying to define the emotion on the other man’s face. He was happily grumpy. There was no other way to explain it.
“Cass?”
“Hmm?” Cassiel’s mouth was full.
“What do you do after I go to work?” Michael asked.
“Sleep,” he grinned.
“Then why-”
“You’re a terrible cook,” this time was Cassiel’s turn to cut Michael off. “That’s all.”
“But I-”
“That’s all,” Cassiel repeated firmly, closing the topic.
They ate the rest of the meal in silence.