(no subject)
Cotton Candy #11. Reassurance
Story : knights
Rating : G
Timeframe : 1261
Word Count : 457
Since I think I've only named names once, Cheva is the Life Goddess.
“Would you relax?” said Ski, as Lyssa paced the breadth of the temple doors.
“No,” said Lyssa, hand straying to the exposed hilt at her belt as she made another pass. “I won’t.”
With a shake of her head and a gentle pat to the swaddled mass in her arms, Ski made her way to the altar. “No one is about to follow us into a temple and make trouble.”
Lyssa gave the solid wood behind her a reproachful glare. “Not while we’re in here I’m worried about. It’s what might be waiting for us when we leave.”
“We can worry about that later,” said Ski, gently rocking her tiny load as she drew to a halt before the statue. “This will take but a moment.”
“As if it makes one bit of difference-”
A door opened to the rear of the room and there was a scraping as the base of Lyssa’s blade edged from its scabbard. Ski cast her a scowl and hastily set the priestess who emerged a smile.
The dainty woman crept towards them, hands knit before her and brows raised. “May… may I be of service?” she ventured, eyes settling on Ski but darting back to the sword Lyssa had once more sheathed, though her hand lingered on its pommel.
“The child,” said Ski, the forced smile growing thin as she fought the desire to turn and pluck her sister’s fingers from her weapon. Instead, she gently peeled the folds of cotton back from Mara’s sleeping face, lifting her in offering. The priestess stepped closer. “We would know her patron.”
The woman smiled, though her hands kept at their worrying. “Ahh,” she said, making a point not to face Lyssa for more than a breath, as she drew near to the pair at the altar.
Ski leaned and tipped the bundle down, and the priestess laid pale fingers over the red-gold strands that peeked from beneath the cloth. Mara slumbered quietly on, soft cheeks puffing tiny breaths.The woman closed her eyes, thoughtful as she traced five points over the baby’s forehead, and Ski found her own breath to fail her as she looked on.
Mara whimpered, tiny lips pursing before they resumed their soft snore, and Ski gave her a gentle squeeze. The priestess’s smile widened as her eyes slid open and her hand withdrew. “Quite blessed, this one,” she said, and Ski’s lungs revived with a slow, shuddering sigh. “Cheva watches over her most diligently.”
“You see?” A hand struck Ski’s back, and she started, wondering how it was she’d missed the approach of Lyssa’s boots. She tore her gaze from the baby to meet her sister’s eyes. “Nothing to worry about,” sid Lyssa. “Well,” she grimaced, “one less thing, anyway.”
Story : knights
Rating : G
Timeframe : 1261
Word Count : 457
Since I think I've only named names once, Cheva is the Life Goddess.
“Would you relax?” said Ski, as Lyssa paced the breadth of the temple doors.
“No,” said Lyssa, hand straying to the exposed hilt at her belt as she made another pass. “I won’t.”
With a shake of her head and a gentle pat to the swaddled mass in her arms, Ski made her way to the altar. “No one is about to follow us into a temple and make trouble.”
Lyssa gave the solid wood behind her a reproachful glare. “Not while we’re in here I’m worried about. It’s what might be waiting for us when we leave.”
“We can worry about that later,” said Ski, gently rocking her tiny load as she drew to a halt before the statue. “This will take but a moment.”
“As if it makes one bit of difference-”
A door opened to the rear of the room and there was a scraping as the base of Lyssa’s blade edged from its scabbard. Ski cast her a scowl and hastily set the priestess who emerged a smile.
The dainty woman crept towards them, hands knit before her and brows raised. “May… may I be of service?” she ventured, eyes settling on Ski but darting back to the sword Lyssa had once more sheathed, though her hand lingered on its pommel.
“The child,” said Ski, the forced smile growing thin as she fought the desire to turn and pluck her sister’s fingers from her weapon. Instead, she gently peeled the folds of cotton back from Mara’s sleeping face, lifting her in offering. The priestess stepped closer. “We would know her patron.”
The woman smiled, though her hands kept at their worrying. “Ahh,” she said, making a point not to face Lyssa for more than a breath, as she drew near to the pair at the altar.
Ski leaned and tipped the bundle down, and the priestess laid pale fingers over the red-gold strands that peeked from beneath the cloth. Mara slumbered quietly on, soft cheeks puffing tiny breaths.The woman closed her eyes, thoughtful as she traced five points over the baby’s forehead, and Ski found her own breath to fail her as she looked on.
Mara whimpered, tiny lips pursing before they resumed their soft snore, and Ski gave her a gentle squeeze. The priestess’s smile widened as her eyes slid open and her hand withdrew. “Quite blessed, this one,” she said, and Ski’s lungs revived with a slow, shuddering sigh. “Cheva watches over her most diligently.”
“You see?” A hand struck Ski’s back, and she started, wondering how it was she’d missed the approach of Lyssa’s boots. She tore her gaze from the baby to meet her sister’s eyes. “Nothing to worry about,” sid Lyssa. “Well,” she grimaced, “one less thing, anyway.”