flavour of the day and cookies 'n' cream with fresh peaches
Story: Timeless { backstory | index }
Title: Halcyon
Rating: G
Challenge: FOTD: halcyon, Cookies ‘n’ Cream #26: settle
Toppings/Extras: fresh peaches
Wordcount: 753
Summary: Lord Ashdown tries to explain the myth of the halcyon bird to Isaac Prowse.
Notes: LOL, the fresh peaches compelled me. BFFL fluff! Halcyon: A mythical bird, identified with the kingfisher, that was fabled to nest at sea about the time of the winter solstice and to calm the waves during incubation. Peaches: Couples, are you tired of the same old routine? Tonight’s the night to vary it.
The ocean was flat and still that day. It was like being in the centre of a bowl. The Truthseeker’s square-rigged sails were taut but there was no billow or flap, no juddering of the ropes. It was smooth sailing, a clean curve cloven through the ocean, the sky bright and the sun a somewhat squashed disc in the sky, seeming to be a horizontal oval as opposed to a circle.
Edward Ashdown loved days like this. He was a man, occasionally, of great heartlessness-but he had delicate aesthetic sensibilities and appreciated Nature just as well as he appreciated Art. Of course, being him, he took it as a sign of good breeding more than anything else. He liked to prove it to himself on occasion by talking to his bodyguard, Isaac Prowse.
“Unusual temperament for the sea considering it’s December, wouldn’t you say?” Ashdown asked the much taller man who was also standing at the banister on the rear deck, looking rather bored. Prowse furrowed his brow.
“I suppose so,” he said absently.
“They say every winter there are fourteen days of calm.”
“Do they?”
“Yes! Haven’t you heard of it?” Ashdown glanced sidelong at his employee. “The nesting time of the halcyon bird.”
“The what?”
Ashdown sighed quietly and gazed at the velvet waves for a moment longer; the ocean’s cerulean surface seemed to billow as opposed to bob. It was an exquisite day, not as hot as the rest of the year in the Caribbean but certainly balmier than the north. Ashdown could scarcely believe that it was the same time of year in London, which would doubtlessly be sodden, grey and dreary.
“You know, sometimes I wonder why I keep you around,” Ashdown remarked rather cattily. Prowse was more than used to it.
“So do I, sir,” he responded. He was ignored.
“The halcyon bird is said to charm the waves and the wind into tranquil while it nests on the sea. I’ve never seen one. I’m not sure they exist.” Ashdown sounded dreadfully disappointed by this, which alarmed Prowse a little. “Named from Halcyone, the daughter of Aeolus, who threw herself into the sea when her husband died. Then she turned into a kingfisher.”
“Oh.”
“And then the wind carried her to be with her husband. Isn’t that nice?”
“Um.”
This was not enough of a response for Ashdown, so he continued-
“The word has Greek roots. Hals, meaning sea or salt, and kyon, meaning conceiving.”
“Right,” Prowse responded. Minimal as always. He wasn’t a talkative man, which grated on Ashdown’s nerves on the few occasions he felt like having what he called a jolly decent discussion. There was also the fact that he was extremely hard to impress these days, taking in Ashdown’s vast knowledge without the blink of an eye.
“Some people think the word might be a misspelling of alkyon, which means kingfisher.”
“Ooh, really?”
Sometimes Ashdown could just hit that man.
“Don’t be so bloody cheeky,” he muttered. He knew that Prowse was only taking his opportunity to snipe because Ashdown’s good mood was so evident-whenever he was in a good mood, he became suddenly bright and brilliant and happy. It rang from him, sang from him. It didn’t happen a lot. It seemed to be affected greatly by the weather, and only ever happened at sea.
“Sorry, sir.”
“The halcyon broods her eggs on a floating nest. Isn’t that a lovely idea?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Haven’t you heard of the phrase, ‘the halcyon days’?”
“Can’t say I’ve come across it,” Prowse said innocently.
Ashdown scrutinised him for a moment. He was too well-mannered-and too deep in the aforementioned good mood-to scowl, but he did narrow his eyes suspiciously.
“Are you having me on?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you sure you don’t know what a halcyon is?”
“How would I know that, sir?”
Prowse tried to keep a straight face but it broke within moments. Sometimes he was amazed at how little Ashdown could willingly believe he knew. He wasn’t sure whether to be offended or not. His boss rolled his eyes in irritation and walked away across the deck, muttering that commoners were getting more common every day and really, you can’t get the staff these days.
Carefully wiping the smirk from his face, Prowse went back to observing the horizon. He’d have to apologise later or else Ashdown would act like a sulking schoolchild for the rest of the journey but for now he was glad for a bit of peace.
Title: Halcyon
Rating: G
Challenge: FOTD: halcyon, Cookies ‘n’ Cream #26: settle
Toppings/Extras: fresh peaches
Wordcount: 753
Summary: Lord Ashdown tries to explain the myth of the halcyon bird to Isaac Prowse.
Notes: LOL, the fresh peaches compelled me. BFFL fluff! Halcyon: A mythical bird, identified with the kingfisher, that was fabled to nest at sea about the time of the winter solstice and to calm the waves during incubation. Peaches: Couples, are you tired of the same old routine? Tonight’s the night to vary it.
The ocean was flat and still that day. It was like being in the centre of a bowl. The Truthseeker’s square-rigged sails were taut but there was no billow or flap, no juddering of the ropes. It was smooth sailing, a clean curve cloven through the ocean, the sky bright and the sun a somewhat squashed disc in the sky, seeming to be a horizontal oval as opposed to a circle.
Edward Ashdown loved days like this. He was a man, occasionally, of great heartlessness-but he had delicate aesthetic sensibilities and appreciated Nature just as well as he appreciated Art. Of course, being him, he took it as a sign of good breeding more than anything else. He liked to prove it to himself on occasion by talking to his bodyguard, Isaac Prowse.
“Unusual temperament for the sea considering it’s December, wouldn’t you say?” Ashdown asked the much taller man who was also standing at the banister on the rear deck, looking rather bored. Prowse furrowed his brow.
“I suppose so,” he said absently.
“They say every winter there are fourteen days of calm.”
“Do they?”
“Yes! Haven’t you heard of it?” Ashdown glanced sidelong at his employee. “The nesting time of the halcyon bird.”
“The what?”
Ashdown sighed quietly and gazed at the velvet waves for a moment longer; the ocean’s cerulean surface seemed to billow as opposed to bob. It was an exquisite day, not as hot as the rest of the year in the Caribbean but certainly balmier than the north. Ashdown could scarcely believe that it was the same time of year in London, which would doubtlessly be sodden, grey and dreary.
“You know, sometimes I wonder why I keep you around,” Ashdown remarked rather cattily. Prowse was more than used to it.
“So do I, sir,” he responded. He was ignored.
“The halcyon bird is said to charm the waves and the wind into tranquil while it nests on the sea. I’ve never seen one. I’m not sure they exist.” Ashdown sounded dreadfully disappointed by this, which alarmed Prowse a little. “Named from Halcyone, the daughter of Aeolus, who threw herself into the sea when her husband died. Then she turned into a kingfisher.”
“Oh.”
“And then the wind carried her to be with her husband. Isn’t that nice?”
“Um.”
This was not enough of a response for Ashdown, so he continued-
“The word has Greek roots. Hals, meaning sea or salt, and kyon, meaning conceiving.”
“Right,” Prowse responded. Minimal as always. He wasn’t a talkative man, which grated on Ashdown’s nerves on the few occasions he felt like having what he called a jolly decent discussion. There was also the fact that he was extremely hard to impress these days, taking in Ashdown’s vast knowledge without the blink of an eye.
“Some people think the word might be a misspelling of alkyon, which means kingfisher.”
“Ooh, really?”
Sometimes Ashdown could just hit that man.
“Don’t be so bloody cheeky,” he muttered. He knew that Prowse was only taking his opportunity to snipe because Ashdown’s good mood was so evident-whenever he was in a good mood, he became suddenly bright and brilliant and happy. It rang from him, sang from him. It didn’t happen a lot. It seemed to be affected greatly by the weather, and only ever happened at sea.
“Sorry, sir.”
“The halcyon broods her eggs on a floating nest. Isn’t that a lovely idea?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Haven’t you heard of the phrase, ‘the halcyon days’?”
“Can’t say I’ve come across it,” Prowse said innocently.
Ashdown scrutinised him for a moment. He was too well-mannered-and too deep in the aforementioned good mood-to scowl, but he did narrow his eyes suspiciously.
“Are you having me on?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you sure you don’t know what a halcyon is?”
“How would I know that, sir?”
Prowse tried to keep a straight face but it broke within moments. Sometimes he was amazed at how little Ashdown could willingly believe he knew. He wasn’t sure whether to be offended or not. His boss rolled his eyes in irritation and walked away across the deck, muttering that commoners were getting more common every day and really, you can’t get the staff these days.
Carefully wiping the smirk from his face, Prowse went back to observing the horizon. He’d have to apologise later or else Ashdown would act like a sulking schoolchild for the rest of the journey but for now he was glad for a bit of peace.