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helloeverybunny2018-06-12 04:18 pm
notanybunny) wrote in helloeverybunny2018-06-12 04:18 pm
Entry tags:
FIC • Ships Ahoy! Part 1 (Sphere/Vitaen)
ALIGOTÉ/MARIA
SD 773/774, while adventuring all over Elicoor II
“Hey, get your filthy hands off my girl.”
Maria gave Aligoté a look. I can handle this.
But he’d been in a bad mood all day (it simply had not been a good day) and watching some random good-looking muscular man hit on Maria like he was Apris’ gift to women was not how he wanted to spend his evening.
“Your girl?” the stranger asked incredulously, then burst out laughing. The loud, booming type that shut up the rest of the bar. “The kid talks big!”
Okay, that was it. Only Maria was allowed to call him a kid---
There was suddenly a crash; the beefy man had gone flying across the room, landing behind the counter. Aligoté stared slack-jawed at the inglorious heap of tangled limbs and broken bottles, then turned his head back towards Maria, who was now on her feet, and from the looks of it, had kicked the dude like he weighed nothing.
“O-Oi! We dun’ have the cash to pay for all of that!”
“What are you talking about? You were ready to deck him!” she retorted.
“I ain’t plannin’ to! I was very cool. The whole time.” As if he could fool anyone, least of all her.
They stared each other, almost like they were squaring off, but it was more than that. They were actually watching, waiting; the guy’s cronies had started to gather around them, and the bartender looked like he was about to launch a bottle or two at their heads. No doubt about it now -- they were going to have to fight their way out.
They whirled around to face their attackers, shifting into their own battle stances, but with their backs still pressed against each other’s. This had become so natural for them now.
“For the record, this is your fault,” Maria announced matter-of-factly.
He huffed indignantly. “It’s always my fault.”
“Love you, too, partner.”
---
PARIS/NAUSY
7QJ76 (SD 798), Quentão
Nausy rapped three times on the door, then peeked into Paris’ study. She wasn’t really a morning person, but one of her nightmares had jolted her awake and forced her out of bed before schedule. She took a long bath to calm herself down, then a walk through Quentão’s many spacious, splendid corridors... and found herself standing outside his work quarters.
What are you doing? she asked herself, her tone chiding. Shiraz had made it very clear that there was nothing going on between her and Paris, at least not in the romantic sense the redhead had always assumed -- but was Nausy really ready for this?
“Morning,” Paris greeted absent-mindedly as he sorted through the bundle of letters Postino delivered that morning, and his voice snapped her out of her little argument with her inner demons.
Before Nausy could stop herself, she said, “Hey, gorgeous,” in response, and that made her wince. Not the best conversation starter given the circumstances. So she hurriedly added, “How’s it going? Basking in your admirers’ adoration? That’s going to take hours by the looks of that pile.”
He laughed at that. “Actually,” he began, turning around to look at her and holding up the letter he’d been reading, “this one’s yours.” There was a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he pretended to read, “Dearest Cajuzinho, I wish I could stop thinking about you, but your face haunts my dreams, and every waking moment. You are cool and amazing and so strong! Your beautiful neighbor next door, Nausicaa.”
The redhead’s expression went from confused to jealous to appalled and finally to one of mock indignation. It took her a while to come back with a witty retort, and it was far from her best; he had hit a little too close to the truth, not that she would admit it. “You wish! As if I’d sign my letters like that. Just ‘beautiful next door neighbor’? What injustice!” (She didn’t even say anything about not meaning the first part.)
Paris set the letters aside, then leaned against the table idly. “Oh? How would you have signed it?”
They were at it again -- the playful banter, the flirtatious exchange of words -- and Nausy felt an ache in her chest. Gods, how could someone be so near, and yet so far? She wanted him, wanted him so badly, both in the deep emotional manner she’d witnessed in the best of relationships (her parents, his parents), as well as something more physical, even primal...
But she steeled her resolve. Nothing that you would both regret, Shiraz had made her promise.
“I wouldn’t have had to,” she lied, through a well-rehearsed diplomatic smile and gritted teeth, and the pain threatened to swallow her whole. “I wouldn’t have written to you in the first place.”
---
NERO/MERLOT
SD 791, Aquios
Night had fallen upon Aquios, but the chamber that had been set aside for the exclusive use of Rozaria and her special students was still awash with light. The queen had left the premises hours ago, but her pupils had not.
Nero stood in front of one of the walls, scowling. He’d had a growth spurt in the recent months, and at fourteen he was tall, although on the gangly side, all limbs and with a slouch as if he was trying to fight his physical development. He was terribly smart, too, evidenced by the perfect line of runes he’d written on the wall. But his status as a prodigy among runologists was really not due to his bookish knowledge on the runes; it was because he was able to call on any of the elements with little to almost no effort. Most runologists only mastered an element in their lifetime, or two for some of the really gifted ones. But all six?
His problem was control. For some inexplicable reason, any rune he’d invoke would generate a force that often... well, in his own words, had a life of its own. A Fire Bolt that would twist and turn on itself before launching forward as intended. Ice Needles that would swell to the size of stalagmites, one on top of the other. An Earth Glaive that would split the ground open and eject rocks like lethal confetti.
He’d started his invocation of the runes on the wall, beginning with the leftmost one, but he’d immediately stopped, barely having gone through a third of the symbol. He could feel the rune fighting him — fighting to be so much more, and after a day of lessons and practice, he felt he no longer had the willpower to resist.
From the corner of his eye he saw Merlot step up beside him, and he sighed.
She looked at him worriedly. “What’s wrong? Those runes are perfect.” Almost the exact opposite to him, she was very good with control, but not at the technical aspects of runology, particularly in sketching the symbols. Still, it never seemed to matter, as she could somehow make even the most incomplete runes work, almost as if she could influence them to do her bidding instead of what they’d really been intended.
“How do you do it?” he asked instead, frustration clearly evident in his voice. “Somehow... they’re always stronger. I can’t control them.”
Merlot frowned thoughtfully at the question. Then she pulled out a piece of chalk from her pocket, crouching to draw a relatively simple symbol on the floor, intended to summon a ball of light out of one’s palm. Standing back up, she took his hand and guided it over the rune, palm up. “Invoke it.”
“What?”
She rolled her eyes; her best friend could be a doofus some days. “It’s... hard to explain my answer to your question. So let me show you instead, but you’ll have to help me.” She looked at him straight in the eyes, then held up her palm over his, although leaving a fistful of space between them.
A strange spell of silence fell over the chamber, but not because he’d closed his eyes to concentrate on the invocation. He didn’t, never had to. But he’d stared back at her, and found himself lost in her eyes. There was so much fire in there, but it was perfectly controlled; also, he’d realized that she really had lovely eyes, and he was thinking of her as cute in a way that wasn’t quite natural for two very close friends.
He could feel a blush creep up to his face, so he invoked the rune to distract himself. And, quite predictably, the light that emerged from his palm wasn’t a ball, but a blinding burst of energy that had him turning his head away quickly.
But moments later the light faded a little, and when he looked back, he could see her eyebrows furrowed together in tight concentration. “You need to know what you want to happen before you even invoke it,” she said. “It’s not just something you turn on. Maybe, eventually, it’ll become natural. But you have to will it.”
Light had come out of her hand, too. He blinked in confusion. “What are you doing?”
She smiled — no, smirked — and if it had been any other person, it would’ve infuriated him. But on her, it was endearing. “I saw it bursting out of you. So as I was invoking the rune, I willed it to be something like a dome, to keep your light in.”
He stared at the ball of light in between their palms in amazement. He could still see the flickering flame that was inside it, which was his doing, but there was a protective layer around it, which was her doing.
Then he called it off, and so did she. She looked a little exhausted, though, and when she seemed to stagger a bit, he was quick to catch her by the arm, holding her up. “Hey, are you alright?”
She nodded. “It’s nothing. Just a little tired.”
“Thanks for helping me, anyway,” he said quietly. He wanted to tell her that she shouldn’t keep doing this, that his incompetence might wear her out in the long run, but a selfish part of him enjoyed her attention and all the time she spent with him. So he slipped his arm around her instead. “I guess that means dinner’s on me tonight.”
Merlot’s expression brightened. “Can we try one of those new stalls by the gates?”
Damn, she really was cute. How could he say no to that? “Sure,” Nero replied, and he knew that if she’d ask for anything else, he would give her that, too.
SD 773/774, while adventuring all over Elicoor II
“Hey, get your filthy hands off my girl.”
Maria gave Aligoté a look. I can handle this.
But he’d been in a bad mood all day (it simply had not been a good day) and watching some random good-looking muscular man hit on Maria like he was Apris’ gift to women was not how he wanted to spend his evening.
“Your girl?” the stranger asked incredulously, then burst out laughing. The loud, booming type that shut up the rest of the bar. “The kid talks big!”
Okay, that was it. Only Maria was allowed to call him a kid---
There was suddenly a crash; the beefy man had gone flying across the room, landing behind the counter. Aligoté stared slack-jawed at the inglorious heap of tangled limbs and broken bottles, then turned his head back towards Maria, who was now on her feet, and from the looks of it, had kicked the dude like he weighed nothing.
“O-Oi! We dun’ have the cash to pay for all of that!”
“What are you talking about? You were ready to deck him!” she retorted.
“I ain’t plannin’ to! I was very cool. The whole time.” As if he could fool anyone, least of all her.
They stared each other, almost like they were squaring off, but it was more than that. They were actually watching, waiting; the guy’s cronies had started to gather around them, and the bartender looked like he was about to launch a bottle or two at their heads. No doubt about it now -- they were going to have to fight their way out.
They whirled around to face their attackers, shifting into their own battle stances, but with their backs still pressed against each other’s. This had become so natural for them now.
“For the record, this is your fault,” Maria announced matter-of-factly.
He huffed indignantly. “It’s always my fault.”
“Love you, too, partner.”
---
PARIS/NAUSY
7QJ76 (SD 798), Quentão
Nausy rapped three times on the door, then peeked into Paris’ study. She wasn’t really a morning person, but one of her nightmares had jolted her awake and forced her out of bed before schedule. She took a long bath to calm herself down, then a walk through Quentão’s many spacious, splendid corridors... and found herself standing outside his work quarters.
What are you doing? she asked herself, her tone chiding. Shiraz had made it very clear that there was nothing going on between her and Paris, at least not in the romantic sense the redhead had always assumed -- but was Nausy really ready for this?
“Morning,” Paris greeted absent-mindedly as he sorted through the bundle of letters Postino delivered that morning, and his voice snapped her out of her little argument with her inner demons.
Before Nausy could stop herself, she said, “Hey, gorgeous,” in response, and that made her wince. Not the best conversation starter given the circumstances. So she hurriedly added, “How’s it going? Basking in your admirers’ adoration? That’s going to take hours by the looks of that pile.”
He laughed at that. “Actually,” he began, turning around to look at her and holding up the letter he’d been reading, “this one’s yours.” There was a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he pretended to read, “Dearest Cajuzinho, I wish I could stop thinking about you, but your face haunts my dreams, and every waking moment. You are cool and amazing and so strong! Your beautiful neighbor next door, Nausicaa.”
The redhead’s expression went from confused to jealous to appalled and finally to one of mock indignation. It took her a while to come back with a witty retort, and it was far from her best; he had hit a little too close to the truth, not that she would admit it. “You wish! As if I’d sign my letters like that. Just ‘beautiful next door neighbor’? What injustice!” (She didn’t even say anything about not meaning the first part.)
Paris set the letters aside, then leaned against the table idly. “Oh? How would you have signed it?”
They were at it again -- the playful banter, the flirtatious exchange of words -- and Nausy felt an ache in her chest. Gods, how could someone be so near, and yet so far? She wanted him, wanted him so badly, both in the deep emotional manner she’d witnessed in the best of relationships (her parents, his parents), as well as something more physical, even primal...
But she steeled her resolve. Nothing that you would both regret, Shiraz had made her promise.
“I wouldn’t have had to,” she lied, through a well-rehearsed diplomatic smile and gritted teeth, and the pain threatened to swallow her whole. “I wouldn’t have written to you in the first place.”
---
NERO/MERLOT
SD 791, Aquios
Night had fallen upon Aquios, but the chamber that had been set aside for the exclusive use of Rozaria and her special students was still awash with light. The queen had left the premises hours ago, but her pupils had not.
Nero stood in front of one of the walls, scowling. He’d had a growth spurt in the recent months, and at fourteen he was tall, although on the gangly side, all limbs and with a slouch as if he was trying to fight his physical development. He was terribly smart, too, evidenced by the perfect line of runes he’d written on the wall. But his status as a prodigy among runologists was really not due to his bookish knowledge on the runes; it was because he was able to call on any of the elements with little to almost no effort. Most runologists only mastered an element in their lifetime, or two for some of the really gifted ones. But all six?
His problem was control. For some inexplicable reason, any rune he’d invoke would generate a force that often... well, in his own words, had a life of its own. A Fire Bolt that would twist and turn on itself before launching forward as intended. Ice Needles that would swell to the size of stalagmites, one on top of the other. An Earth Glaive that would split the ground open and eject rocks like lethal confetti.
He’d started his invocation of the runes on the wall, beginning with the leftmost one, but he’d immediately stopped, barely having gone through a third of the symbol. He could feel the rune fighting him — fighting to be so much more, and after a day of lessons and practice, he felt he no longer had the willpower to resist.
From the corner of his eye he saw Merlot step up beside him, and he sighed.
She looked at him worriedly. “What’s wrong? Those runes are perfect.” Almost the exact opposite to him, she was very good with control, but not at the technical aspects of runology, particularly in sketching the symbols. Still, it never seemed to matter, as she could somehow make even the most incomplete runes work, almost as if she could influence them to do her bidding instead of what they’d really been intended.
“How do you do it?” he asked instead, frustration clearly evident in his voice. “Somehow... they’re always stronger. I can’t control them.”
Merlot frowned thoughtfully at the question. Then she pulled out a piece of chalk from her pocket, crouching to draw a relatively simple symbol on the floor, intended to summon a ball of light out of one’s palm. Standing back up, she took his hand and guided it over the rune, palm up. “Invoke it.”
“What?”
She rolled her eyes; her best friend could be a doofus some days. “It’s... hard to explain my answer to your question. So let me show you instead, but you’ll have to help me.” She looked at him straight in the eyes, then held up her palm over his, although leaving a fistful of space between them.
A strange spell of silence fell over the chamber, but not because he’d closed his eyes to concentrate on the invocation. He didn’t, never had to. But he’d stared back at her, and found himself lost in her eyes. There was so much fire in there, but it was perfectly controlled; also, he’d realized that she really had lovely eyes, and he was thinking of her as cute in a way that wasn’t quite natural for two very close friends.
He could feel a blush creep up to his face, so he invoked the rune to distract himself. And, quite predictably, the light that emerged from his palm wasn’t a ball, but a blinding burst of energy that had him turning his head away quickly.
But moments later the light faded a little, and when he looked back, he could see her eyebrows furrowed together in tight concentration. “You need to know what you want to happen before you even invoke it,” she said. “It’s not just something you turn on. Maybe, eventually, it’ll become natural. But you have to will it.”
Light had come out of her hand, too. He blinked in confusion. “What are you doing?”
She smiled — no, smirked — and if it had been any other person, it would’ve infuriated him. But on her, it was endearing. “I saw it bursting out of you. So as I was invoking the rune, I willed it to be something like a dome, to keep your light in.”
He stared at the ball of light in between their palms in amazement. He could still see the flickering flame that was inside it, which was his doing, but there was a protective layer around it, which was her doing.
Then he called it off, and so did she. She looked a little exhausted, though, and when she seemed to stagger a bit, he was quick to catch her by the arm, holding her up. “Hey, are you alright?”
She nodded. “It’s nothing. Just a little tired.”
“Thanks for helping me, anyway,” he said quietly. He wanted to tell her that she shouldn’t keep doing this, that his incompetence might wear her out in the long run, but a selfish part of him enjoyed her attention and all the time she spent with him. So he slipped his arm around her instead. “I guess that means dinner’s on me tonight.”
Merlot’s expression brightened. “Can we try one of those new stalls by the gates?”
Damn, she really was cute. How could he say no to that? “Sure,” Nero replied, and he knew that if she’d ask for anything else, he would give her that, too.