Respite - #07 - SW: Repcom - Ordo / Besany
Title: Respite
Pairing: Null Arc 11 - Ordo / Agent Besany Wennen
Fandom: Star Wars: Republic Commando
Rating: PG
Word Count: 750
Theme: #07 - Hug
Comm: 30_distractions
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, amateur effort not intended to infringe on the rights of any copyright holder. Characters belong to their respective owners.
Summary: Because everyone deals with grief differently.
EDITED: 11.02.2008 17:20
(Prompt Table)
Long days were, for lack of a better term, long. Ordo felt it in his bones when he finally passed over the threshold and paused as the door hissed shut behind him. He wondered if he had taken indoor heating for granted in the past, and quietly vowed to rectify that issue. After all, he had been standing out in a mid-winter snowstorm for the better part of the night and most of the early morning.
What had he been doing? Well, he wasn’t sure.
Ordo did not appreciate idleness. In fact, he loathed it to a degree. There was work to be done, of that he knew.
Yet yesterday he had run across a problem, an obstacle. An impasse-the desire to perform any task, the motivation normally accessible to tackle otherwise impossible challenges, was missing. Beyond reach. For all his hard-hitting intellect he found himself without the energy to so much as solve a simple slicing-related irregularity.
Melted snow dripped down his coat as he shrugged off the garment and hung it on the rack along the wall. With meticulous care he unraveled the strip of thick cloth around his neck, followed by the padded vest, and hooked them on either side of the coat. Then, kicking off his boots, he crept through the small sanctuary commissioned by Kal’buir.
He had tried to clean his weapons, but there was nothing to be gained after the fifth strip-down. The HoloNet broadcasted the same Imperial propaganda day-in day-out, and enough speculation on what wasn’t being said was enough to drive even the most disciplined Teräs Käsi specialist to insanity.
Idleness-he couldn’t sit still.
His mind spun so fast his thoughts blurred to ringing silence. What had worked in the past did not work for him now and while he had some inclination as to exactly what the route of the problem entailed, he could not be enthused to analyze his psyche in the middle of the night.
All sleep attempts were thwarted. So he did the sane thing. He went for a walk. Outside-where he would not wake anyone.
The soft scent of charred eggs and nerf steak brought his attention back to center and he stopped dead in the hall. His chrono read 04:51. No one in their right mind would be awake at the present moment.
The subtle irony of that thought was not lost on him.
Decision made before he even realized he had considered something other than falling into bed, he followed his nose, literally, to the dining area. He skimmed his hand across the thick wooden tabletop’s surface and came to a halt just before entering the kitchen.
Besany wasn’t facing him, but from the subtle change in posture he knew she picked up on his presence.
So he stood silently. He felt uncomfortable, unsure, and suddenly tired, as if the past hours rushed to catch up with him in that moment. His knees threatened to buckle. The hard floor beckoned, appearing a good deal more comfortable than he remembered.
His eyes slipped closed. His heart picked up its pace.
Ordo felt rather than saw her move. He could feel her, the heat of her body close yet not quite touching him. Then soft hands gently pressed a small piece of sticky sweet cake past his lips.
It caught him off guard, but the effect was immediate. The sugar entered his system, and all the little positive associations his brain connected with uj-cake sent his sensors into calm placidity. He felt her hands on his arms, easing him back until he dropped into a chair.
His eyes popped open and he looked up at her.
She looked tired. He imagined that he looked the same.
A hundred things came to mind, but he couldn’t get the words past the small bit of cake he rolled languidly over his tongue.
Then, slowly, she stepped forward. Instinctively he leaned in, eyes sliding shut as his cheek pressed against the soft cloth over her midsection. Her hands wrapped gently around him, one entwined in his hair and gently massaging his scalp while the other stroked his cheek. Part of him struggled against something inwardly, but he dropped it. There was no fighting anything at the peak of exhaustion.
Instead he cautiously curled his arms around the back of her thighs, letting out a shuddering breath. He relaxed under her touch, turned to bury his face in the folds of her nightgown, and stopped thinking at all.
Pairing: Null Arc 11 - Ordo / Agent Besany Wennen
Fandom: Star Wars: Republic Commando
Rating: PG
Word Count: 750
Theme: #07 - Hug
Comm: 30_distractions
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, amateur effort not intended to infringe on the rights of any copyright holder. Characters belong to their respective owners.
Summary: Because everyone deals with grief differently.
EDITED: 11.02.2008 17:20
(Prompt Table)
Long days were, for lack of a better term, long. Ordo felt it in his bones when he finally passed over the threshold and paused as the door hissed shut behind him. He wondered if he had taken indoor heating for granted in the past, and quietly vowed to rectify that issue. After all, he had been standing out in a mid-winter snowstorm for the better part of the night and most of the early morning.
What had he been doing? Well, he wasn’t sure.
Ordo did not appreciate idleness. In fact, he loathed it to a degree. There was work to be done, of that he knew.
Yet yesterday he had run across a problem, an obstacle. An impasse-the desire to perform any task, the motivation normally accessible to tackle otherwise impossible challenges, was missing. Beyond reach. For all his hard-hitting intellect he found himself without the energy to so much as solve a simple slicing-related irregularity.
Melted snow dripped down his coat as he shrugged off the garment and hung it on the rack along the wall. With meticulous care he unraveled the strip of thick cloth around his neck, followed by the padded vest, and hooked them on either side of the coat. Then, kicking off his boots, he crept through the small sanctuary commissioned by Kal’buir.
He had tried to clean his weapons, but there was nothing to be gained after the fifth strip-down. The HoloNet broadcasted the same Imperial propaganda day-in day-out, and enough speculation on what wasn’t being said was enough to drive even the most disciplined Teräs Käsi specialist to insanity.
Idleness-he couldn’t sit still.
His mind spun so fast his thoughts blurred to ringing silence. What had worked in the past did not work for him now and while he had some inclination as to exactly what the route of the problem entailed, he could not be enthused to analyze his psyche in the middle of the night.
All sleep attempts were thwarted. So he did the sane thing. He went for a walk. Outside-where he would not wake anyone.
The soft scent of charred eggs and nerf steak brought his attention back to center and he stopped dead in the hall. His chrono read 04:51. No one in their right mind would be awake at the present moment.
The subtle irony of that thought was not lost on him.
Decision made before he even realized he had considered something other than falling into bed, he followed his nose, literally, to the dining area. He skimmed his hand across the thick wooden tabletop’s surface and came to a halt just before entering the kitchen.
Besany wasn’t facing him, but from the subtle change in posture he knew she picked up on his presence.
So he stood silently. He felt uncomfortable, unsure, and suddenly tired, as if the past hours rushed to catch up with him in that moment. His knees threatened to buckle. The hard floor beckoned, appearing a good deal more comfortable than he remembered.
His eyes slipped closed. His heart picked up its pace.
Ordo felt rather than saw her move. He could feel her, the heat of her body close yet not quite touching him. Then soft hands gently pressed a small piece of sticky sweet cake past his lips.
It caught him off guard, but the effect was immediate. The sugar entered his system, and all the little positive associations his brain connected with uj-cake sent his sensors into calm placidity. He felt her hands on his arms, easing him back until he dropped into a chair.
His eyes popped open and he looked up at her.
She looked tired. He imagined that he looked the same.
A hundred things came to mind, but he couldn’t get the words past the small bit of cake he rolled languidly over his tongue.
Then, slowly, she stepped forward. Instinctively he leaned in, eyes sliding shut as his cheek pressed against the soft cloth over her midsection. Her hands wrapped gently around him, one entwined in his hair and gently massaging his scalp while the other stroked his cheek. Part of him struggled against something inwardly, but he dropped it. There was no fighting anything at the peak of exhaustion.
Instead he cautiously curled his arms around the back of her thighs, letting out a shuddering breath. He relaxed under her touch, turned to bury his face in the folds of her nightgown, and stopped thinking at all.