momentary death to my writer's block
Strawberry #16. Candle
Rating : PG
Timeframe : winter 1255
Rune rolled over and gave the pillows a shove, wondering how many times he had already done so and if this most recent adjustment would actually be of any assistance in getting him back to sleep. He stared into the darkness for long moments, until he felt the urge to shift again. Having given up the prospect of finding any more rest, he sat up. The heavy blankets fell away and his chest heaved as the cold air met his skin.
He snatched his robe from the bedpost and fumbled in the dark for a candle and match. Both were soon retrieved from the bedside table. Huddling beneath his robe as the wick began to glow, he wondered if it might not have been better to remain under the covers.
Bright green eyes snapped open, narrowing as they fixed themselves on the candle. Millie gave what might have passed as a sigh and picked her way across the bed to find a position away from the light.
Rune muttered an apology to the cat before he shuffled across the room, his body still sluggish and heavy with the last remnants of the sleep that refused to return. Pressing a shoulder to the door, he forced it open.
The hall was darker even than his room, without windows to admit the distant glow of the moon. He swung the candle in a broad arc before him, bringing the frame that marked the entrance to the common room into view for a moment before the light moved on to pass over the kitchen doorway.
Thinking something warm to drink might help him sleep, he turned towards the kitchen. He had gone no more than two steps in that direction when something crashed into him from behind and he found himself tumbling to the floor, in a tangle of arms and legs and a silky robe, to the sound of curses uttered in a familiar female voice.
The force of the fall snuffed the light from the candle and sent it rolling across the floor. Rune extricated himself from the body that had joined him on the floor and ran his hands along the wooden planks in search of it. As his hand closed over the wax, a tiny flame burst to life behind him. He turned to find Lyssa seated against the wall, the soft glow of her own candle falling over the wet mass of copper laid across her shoulders and the red silk robe that hung loose on her slender frame.
“I’m sorry,” he said. He wasn’t quite sure why he was apologizing for standing in the hall, but he was far more concerned with keeping his eyes even with hers and not making notice of the wide opening in her robe that trailed all the way down to her midsection. The hazy candlelight made her skin look as soft as the silk. Rune’s head snapped up as he realized he was failing to keep his gaze from straying.
She brought her candle to his with a smirk and a slight shrug of her shoulders that sent the neck of her robe plunging further. He swallowed, determined not to follow it. “What has you up so late?” he asked, as if words could make things less awkward.
“Nice opportunity for a quiet bath,” she said. “You?”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“I know a few good solutions for that.” The gleam in her eyes was as dangerously inviting as the rest of her and Rune cast his eyes to the candle he held as he forced himself to his feet.
“I was just headed for the kitchen,” he said, pressing his back to the far wall. “Something to drink.”
“Suit yourself.”
Eyes still focused on the flickering light before him, he felt the brush of silk as she passed. It was only after he heard her door shut that he had space to wonder just where she’d managed to hide a match.
Rating : PG
Timeframe : winter 1255
Rune rolled over and gave the pillows a shove, wondering how many times he had already done so and if this most recent adjustment would actually be of any assistance in getting him back to sleep. He stared into the darkness for long moments, until he felt the urge to shift again. Having given up the prospect of finding any more rest, he sat up. The heavy blankets fell away and his chest heaved as the cold air met his skin.
He snatched his robe from the bedpost and fumbled in the dark for a candle and match. Both were soon retrieved from the bedside table. Huddling beneath his robe as the wick began to glow, he wondered if it might not have been better to remain under the covers.
Bright green eyes snapped open, narrowing as they fixed themselves on the candle. Millie gave what might have passed as a sigh and picked her way across the bed to find a position away from the light.
Rune muttered an apology to the cat before he shuffled across the room, his body still sluggish and heavy with the last remnants of the sleep that refused to return. Pressing a shoulder to the door, he forced it open.
The hall was darker even than his room, without windows to admit the distant glow of the moon. He swung the candle in a broad arc before him, bringing the frame that marked the entrance to the common room into view for a moment before the light moved on to pass over the kitchen doorway.
Thinking something warm to drink might help him sleep, he turned towards the kitchen. He had gone no more than two steps in that direction when something crashed into him from behind and he found himself tumbling to the floor, in a tangle of arms and legs and a silky robe, to the sound of curses uttered in a familiar female voice.
The force of the fall snuffed the light from the candle and sent it rolling across the floor. Rune extricated himself from the body that had joined him on the floor and ran his hands along the wooden planks in search of it. As his hand closed over the wax, a tiny flame burst to life behind him. He turned to find Lyssa seated against the wall, the soft glow of her own candle falling over the wet mass of copper laid across her shoulders and the red silk robe that hung loose on her slender frame.
“I’m sorry,” he said. He wasn’t quite sure why he was apologizing for standing in the hall, but he was far more concerned with keeping his eyes even with hers and not making notice of the wide opening in her robe that trailed all the way down to her midsection. The hazy candlelight made her skin look as soft as the silk. Rune’s head snapped up as he realized he was failing to keep his gaze from straying.
She brought her candle to his with a smirk and a slight shrug of her shoulders that sent the neck of her robe plunging further. He swallowed, determined not to follow it. “What has you up so late?” he asked, as if words could make things less awkward.
“Nice opportunity for a quiet bath,” she said. “You?”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“I know a few good solutions for that.” The gleam in her eyes was as dangerously inviting as the rest of her and Rune cast his eyes to the candle he held as he forced himself to his feet.
“I was just headed for the kitchen,” he said, pressing his back to the far wall. “Something to drink.”
“Suit yourself.”
Eyes still focused on the flickering light before him, he felt the brush of silk as she passed. It was only after he heard her door shut that he had space to wonder just where she’d managed to hide a match.