Wild Roses fic prompt 009 "Months"
Title: four weeks
’Verse/characters: Wild Roses; Hernén, Belladonna
Prompt: 009 "Months"
Word Count: 367
Rating: G
Notes: Follows "Beginnings"; also, includes bribery, of a very peculiar sort. billradish is evil.
It would have been a repeat of the first time they'd met, but this time she came alone, and he spotted her before she spoke.
"Bet's a bet?" he asked the thicket she was sprawled within, crazy-grin spreading briefly across his face before he pulled his lips back over his teeth.
"Nah," she replied, sliding out and shifting to stand on two feet, facing him, her hands in her pockets. "Wanted to see if everyone else assumed you were rabid, too."
He barked a laugh as wolfish as could be asked of human throat, and pulled a wrapped basket from the air.
Her nostrils flared as he began unwrapping it, feet involuntarily drifting a few paces closer. "What is that?" she demanded, breathing between each word.
"You asked," he said, extending something that looked like a demented cross of a mushroom and a stone towards her, steam wafting gently from it, "what I had, that you could possibly want."
She poked it with a stiff finger, recoiling slightly when it gave, releasing more steam and smell from it, and only belatedly realised how close she was. Stepping back out of arm's reach, "That doesn't tell me what it is."
"Bread," he replied, tearing it in half.
She nearly fell over as the smell washed over her like a ripe-grain-tinged wave. "Nngah."
"I've got two things," he said, more seriously, tearing off a smaller piece and extending it his full arm's reach to her.
He had longer arms than she'd thought, she noticed halfway through chewing. "Mmrnm?"
"I have an outpost of farmers who aren't afraid of wolves, two-legged or four, who grow the grain that produces this," he fed her another piece, "and bake it."
As she drew breath to speak, he continued, "Who also say they'd trade woven cloth, and bread, for the things a roaming wolfpack would have in plenty. Edible mushrooms, small game, feathers--things a pup could bring down, even if they're not the one trading."
" . . . I take it back," she said thoughtfully, reaching over and snagging the loaf.
"Oh?"
"Yeah, you're not rabid-crazy. You're sneaky-crazy."
He laughed, and she grinned at him, a friendly gesture, if one ignored the fangs.
’Verse/characters: Wild Roses; Hernén, Belladonna
Prompt: 009 "Months"
Word Count: 367
Rating: G
Notes: Follows "Beginnings"; also, includes bribery, of a very peculiar sort. billradish is evil.
It would have been a repeat of the first time they'd met, but this time she came alone, and he spotted her before she spoke.
"Bet's a bet?" he asked the thicket she was sprawled within, crazy-grin spreading briefly across his face before he pulled his lips back over his teeth.
"Nah," she replied, sliding out and shifting to stand on two feet, facing him, her hands in her pockets. "Wanted to see if everyone else assumed you were rabid, too."
He barked a laugh as wolfish as could be asked of human throat, and pulled a wrapped basket from the air.
Her nostrils flared as he began unwrapping it, feet involuntarily drifting a few paces closer. "What is that?" she demanded, breathing between each word.
"You asked," he said, extending something that looked like a demented cross of a mushroom and a stone towards her, steam wafting gently from it, "what I had, that you could possibly want."
She poked it with a stiff finger, recoiling slightly when it gave, releasing more steam and smell from it, and only belatedly realised how close she was. Stepping back out of arm's reach, "That doesn't tell me what it is."
"Bread," he replied, tearing it in half.
She nearly fell over as the smell washed over her like a ripe-grain-tinged wave. "Nngah."
"I've got two things," he said, more seriously, tearing off a smaller piece and extending it his full arm's reach to her.
He had longer arms than she'd thought, she noticed halfway through chewing. "Mmrnm?"
"I have an outpost of farmers who aren't afraid of wolves, two-legged or four, who grow the grain that produces this," he fed her another piece, "and bake it."
As she drew breath to speak, he continued, "Who also say they'd trade woven cloth, and bread, for the things a roaming wolfpack would have in plenty. Edible mushrooms, small game, feathers--things a pup could bring down, even if they're not the one trading."
" . . . I take it back," she said thoughtfully, reaching over and snagging the loaf.
"Oh?"
"Yeah, you're not rabid-crazy. You're sneaky-crazy."
He laughed, and she grinned at him, a friendly gesture, if one ignored the fangs.