1 of (hopefully) 2 today...
Maple Walnut #4. Off the Record
Story : knights
Rating : PG
Timeframe : 1267
Word Count : 660
Lyssa slung her cloak over the back of a chair. It teetered under the weight, uneven legs rattling awkwardly against the floorboards.
“Quiet around here,” she said. Fingers wound together, she slowly circled the table, as Kairn fussed about retrieving a battered kettle from the cabinet.
He set the teapot in the sink and popped off the lid. “Sham’s in bed.”
“Oh.,” said Lyssa, eyes flicking to the boy’s door before they fell to her boots. She scuffed the toe of one against the heel of the other, brows knit, as the sink hissed and sputtered and she fumbled for something to say. “It must be rough.”
Kairn shrugged “He has his bad days,” he said. Water sloshed from the kettle as he hauled it from the sink. “But they’re not so common really.” He set it over the coals and replaced the lid. “I’m just happy to do what I can for him. I’m sure you can understand.”
“I never know what to do,” said Lyssa, running a hand along the edge of the counter. “Easier when I keep my nose out of things.”
Kairn reached across her for the bread and caught her eye with a smile. “I’m sure that’s not true.”
She shook her head as she stepped back. “Just between you and me,” she said, “I wasn’t meant for it at all. Ski makes a better mother than I would.”
Kairn paused, halfway to the table with the bread and a knife. “Lyss…”
She gave her boots another long and thoughtful stare. There was a sigh and then the rough sawing of blade on bread.
“She started asking me about her father,” she said, wondering the moment it had passed her lips what had possessed her to say such a thing.
The cutting stopped. “And?”
Lyssa looked up, caught the man staring back at her, loaf in one hand knife in the other, eyes wide with concern. She scowled. “And what?”
Kairn raised a brow. “What did you tell her?”
She shrugged. “Told her I don’t know.”
His voice fell to what she told herself was a sympatheic tone, however accusatory it sounded. “You don’t know?”
She met his gaze for a moment, her mouth suddenly dry, before grabbing the handle of the nearest cupboard door and swinging it wide to thrust her head behind it. “Didn’t say I don’t know.” She forced her tone as even as she could while she swept a hand over barren shelves. “I said I told her I don’t know. There’s a difference.” She closed the door and hastily opened another, the shelves behind it just as empty. “Curse you and your lack of anything ever worth dinking.”
“You should know by now-”
She shut the second and went for a third just to avoid looking at him. “Remind me to bring something next time,” she said. “What do you care whether I know or not anyway?”
“I don’t,” said Kairn. “I just wonder what he ever did to you to deserve-”
“Nothing.” She swept past him, still not looking, to grab her cloak from the chair.
“Where-”
Lyssa shrugged her arms into the sleeves. “I’m going to remedy your empty cupboards.”
“But…”
She turned to glare at him, fighting the tremor in her hands as she fastened the clasps. “He didn’t do a damn thing and he doesn’t deserve it,” she said. “It’s just…“ She forced her hands into her pockets with a sigh. “It’s just, well, you spend so much time thinking about only one person and then you realize someone else matters more. That they always did.”
Kairn’s lips fell open without words, his grip on the knife tightening as she turned to leave. “I won’t be long,” she said, one hand on the door. From the corner of her eye she saw him, all the color gone from his features, give a weak nod, before the door swung away and she stepped out into the street.
Story : knights
Rating : PG
Timeframe : 1267
Word Count : 660
Lyssa slung her cloak over the back of a chair. It teetered under the weight, uneven legs rattling awkwardly against the floorboards.
“Quiet around here,” she said. Fingers wound together, she slowly circled the table, as Kairn fussed about retrieving a battered kettle from the cabinet.
He set the teapot in the sink and popped off the lid. “Sham’s in bed.”
“Oh.,” said Lyssa, eyes flicking to the boy’s door before they fell to her boots. She scuffed the toe of one against the heel of the other, brows knit, as the sink hissed and sputtered and she fumbled for something to say. “It must be rough.”
Kairn shrugged “He has his bad days,” he said. Water sloshed from the kettle as he hauled it from the sink. “But they’re not so common really.” He set it over the coals and replaced the lid. “I’m just happy to do what I can for him. I’m sure you can understand.”
“I never know what to do,” said Lyssa, running a hand along the edge of the counter. “Easier when I keep my nose out of things.”
Kairn reached across her for the bread and caught her eye with a smile. “I’m sure that’s not true.”
She shook her head as she stepped back. “Just between you and me,” she said, “I wasn’t meant for it at all. Ski makes a better mother than I would.”
Kairn paused, halfway to the table with the bread and a knife. “Lyss…”
She gave her boots another long and thoughtful stare. There was a sigh and then the rough sawing of blade on bread.
“She started asking me about her father,” she said, wondering the moment it had passed her lips what had possessed her to say such a thing.
The cutting stopped. “And?”
Lyssa looked up, caught the man staring back at her, loaf in one hand knife in the other, eyes wide with concern. She scowled. “And what?”
Kairn raised a brow. “What did you tell her?”
She shrugged. “Told her I don’t know.”
His voice fell to what she told herself was a sympatheic tone, however accusatory it sounded. “You don’t know?”
She met his gaze for a moment, her mouth suddenly dry, before grabbing the handle of the nearest cupboard door and swinging it wide to thrust her head behind it. “Didn’t say I don’t know.” She forced her tone as even as she could while she swept a hand over barren shelves. “I said I told her I don’t know. There’s a difference.” She closed the door and hastily opened another, the shelves behind it just as empty. “Curse you and your lack of anything ever worth dinking.”
“You should know by now-”
She shut the second and went for a third just to avoid looking at him. “Remind me to bring something next time,” she said. “What do you care whether I know or not anyway?”
“I don’t,” said Kairn. “I just wonder what he ever did to you to deserve-”
“Nothing.” She swept past him, still not looking, to grab her cloak from the chair.
“Where-”
Lyssa shrugged her arms into the sleeves. “I’m going to remedy your empty cupboards.”
“But…”
She turned to glare at him, fighting the tremor in her hands as she fastened the clasps. “He didn’t do a damn thing and he doesn’t deserve it,” she said. “It’s just…“ She forced her hands into her pockets with a sigh. “It’s just, well, you spend so much time thinking about only one person and then you realize someone else matters more. That they always did.”
Kairn’s lips fell open without words, his grip on the knife tightening as she turned to leave. “I won’t be long,” she said, one hand on the door. From the corner of her eye she saw him, all the color gone from his features, give a weak nod, before the door swung away and she stepped out into the street.