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helloeverybunny2018-07-05 03:27 pm
notanybunny) wrote in helloeverybunny2018-07-05 03:27 pm
FIC • Stolen (Sphere/Vitaen)
Setting: Aquavitae | 7QJ76, weeks after Shiraz' talk with Nausy
Characters: Nausy and Paris
Summary: A Navan Confederation diplomatic mission goes wrong.I AM PURPOSELY BEING VAGUE OKAY
Nausy had known — no, felt — that the invitation was a trap, hence why she’d insisted on going with Paris. She didn’t exactly have a role in Aquavitae’s affairs despite having been brought in by the planet herself, almost a year ago now, but her instincts had screamed in warning when he’d received the letter from the Navan. And she wouldn’t shut up until he relented to take her along, leaving behind a disgruntled Shiraz to babysit Marc.
While she wasn’t as skilled in combat as her parents or siblings, she made up for it by having a particularly strong sense of intuition, although it often led to leaving the impression that she was impulsive and reckless. Vita seemed to have recognized that talent, however, and Paris as well.
Those instincts served them well again today, but the danger was far from over.
She inhaled sharply and gritted her teeth as her wounded right shoulder throbbed in pain; one of the Navans had scored a hit, successfully driving a dagger into the area just above her shoulder blade. She almost didn’t feel it as they fled, but now that they were relatively safe aboard a compartment of a freight train… the pain was back with a vengeance.
Pain that wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place.
“I’m not healing,” she murmured in realization. Or, at least, she wasn’t healing fast enough.
Paris, who’d been looking out to try to determine where the train was headed, turned quickly to her when she’d winced. His eyes widened. “You’re hurt,” he said worriedly, moving over to inspect her injury, and when she’d tried to shoo him off, claiming that it was just a scratch and she was fine, he gave her an admonishing stare.
She relented with a soft sigh and let him tend to her, loosening her top and pulling it down enough to expose the wound. She was aware that it also displayed the runes on her back — they trailed from the back of her neck, through her spine, almost as if they have to be invoked in a specific order — but she figured that if he’d bothered to really look at her, he would’ve already noticed.
“We need get off soon,” he said quietly as he finished, breaking the silence that had started to become a little too awkward. “They probably saw us board this train. We need to lose them, and maybe hide out for a while.” He made no mention of her physical state, knowing she wouldn’t like it being pointed out.
Then he stepped up in front of her and held out his hand, grinning. “What do you think about Galliano?”
——
When Paris had said they were going into hiding, Nausy expected something similar to her experience after the fall of Airyglyph: taking refuge in cold, dark caverns, foraging for scraps, living off the land. The last thing she expected was to end up in a lovely seaside town that was packed with people.
“Hiding in plain sight,” he’d told her, smirking. While he was the Cajuzinho, he normally didn’t travel as such, so he wasn’t as easily recognized. And, for good measure, they’d changed outfits several stops back, not only to be less conspicuous but also to blend with the town’s warmer atmosphere.
They arrived at a cozy little bed and breakfast, and were greeted with hugs by a rather enthusiastic old woman. Nausy bit her lip to stop herself from crying out in pain, knowing that the other lady only meant well. “Young love, how wonderful!” she exclaimed in delight. “Just married?”
Nausy’s eyes flew wide at the question. Married? So Galliano’s—
Paris laughed, putting an arm around Nausy’s waist and drawing her closer. He was standing on her left, so he didn’t have to worry about accidentally hitting her injured shoulder. “Yes, actually. And it’s, ah, kind of a secret?”
“You eloped? Oh, how romantic!”
——
Nausy stared out the window of their room, taking in the view. The sky was a lovely blue with pretty little white wisps, and the sea crystalline, stretching as far out as her eyes could see. It was simply breathtaking.
There was a knock on the door, and she turned around just in time to see Paris come in. He was carrying towels, clothes, some vials and bandages, which he’d put down on the bed closest to the room’s entrance… which was technically the only bed in the room. Because they were supposed to be newlyweds in town for their honeymoon.
“You don’t have to knock, husband,” she found herself saying, grinning. It was almost always too easy to fall into the rhythm of their playful banter. “The door’s always open for you.”
He straightened and tucked his hands into his pockets, his smile just as roguish. “And your heart as well?”
They stared at each other, the seconds feeling like a lifetime. That escalated quickly. Normally they would go a few rounds, teasing and baiting each other, until one of them — usually Paris — would take a hit, and things become awkward; then they would withdraw and pretend like nothing, absolutely nothing, was going on.
It was Nausy who looked away (again, as always), turning back to the window. She slowly let out a breath, and her feelings along with it. Or so she hoped. “Is that why you brought us here?”
He didn’t say anything to that, and she didn’t see him wince. Then he picked up the vials and bandages and walked over to stand behind her. “Let’s get that wound cleaned up properly.” Subject change, a classic tactic.
She looked over her shoulder to him. “It’s okay, I can do it—”
“Nausy.” His tone was firm, but his eyes were kind. He was almost always kind. “Please.”
And he was gentle. Kind, gentle, dutiful, loyal, patient, caring, adventurous, exasperatingly attractive, single… gods, what the hell was wrong with her?
She loved him. She’d only said it out loud once — and no less in front of Shiraz, his Bonded — and while she’d come up afterwards with so many reasons, so many excuses not to, who was she really kidding? She couldn’t deny the truth of the matter. And she was getting really tired of pretending that he didn’t mean as much to her as he truly did.
Don’t do anything that you cannot stay friends from, Shiraz had advised her.
But what was love, what was life, without risk, without stakes?
She looked over her shoulder again and was surprised to find that he’d already finished; she almost didn’t feel a thing as he cleaned up and dressed her wound. But he hadn’t moved away, his attention drawn to the strange, alien symbols tattooed on her skin.
“Paris?”
He touched the rune on the base of her neck, then, catching himself, pulled his hand away. “Sorry. Uh… it’s healing up nicely.” He looked like he had something else to say, but then he just shook his head, and took a step back. “You must be hungry. I’ll go find some food—”
She’d spun around and grabbed his hand. “Don’t go.”
His eyes widened in surprise — at the gesture, and at her expression. She was smiling, but it wasn’t her usual goofy, face-splitting grin; there was something almost vulnerable about it. And her eyes… he found himself holding his breath, for suddenly he felt like he could read in those eyes the very same things he couldn’t bring himself to say to her.
“Don’t go,” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. “Please.”
Then she tugged at his hand, trying to pull him gently towards her, and got up on her toes to kiss him.
You have stolen my heart; won’t you take the rest of me along with it?
Characters: Nausy and Paris
Summary: A Navan Confederation diplomatic mission goes wrong.
Nausy had known — no, felt — that the invitation was a trap, hence why she’d insisted on going with Paris. She didn’t exactly have a role in Aquavitae’s affairs despite having been brought in by the planet herself, almost a year ago now, but her instincts had screamed in warning when he’d received the letter from the Navan. And she wouldn’t shut up until he relented to take her along, leaving behind a disgruntled Shiraz to babysit Marc.
While she wasn’t as skilled in combat as her parents or siblings, she made up for it by having a particularly strong sense of intuition, although it often led to leaving the impression that she was impulsive and reckless. Vita seemed to have recognized that talent, however, and Paris as well.
Those instincts served them well again today, but the danger was far from over.
She inhaled sharply and gritted her teeth as her wounded right shoulder throbbed in pain; one of the Navans had scored a hit, successfully driving a dagger into the area just above her shoulder blade. She almost didn’t feel it as they fled, but now that they were relatively safe aboard a compartment of a freight train… the pain was back with a vengeance.
Pain that wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place.
“I’m not healing,” she murmured in realization. Or, at least, she wasn’t healing fast enough.
Paris, who’d been looking out to try to determine where the train was headed, turned quickly to her when she’d winced. His eyes widened. “You’re hurt,” he said worriedly, moving over to inspect her injury, and when she’d tried to shoo him off, claiming that it was just a scratch and she was fine, he gave her an admonishing stare.
She relented with a soft sigh and let him tend to her, loosening her top and pulling it down enough to expose the wound. She was aware that it also displayed the runes on her back — they trailed from the back of her neck, through her spine, almost as if they have to be invoked in a specific order — but she figured that if he’d bothered to really look at her, he would’ve already noticed.
“We need get off soon,” he said quietly as he finished, breaking the silence that had started to become a little too awkward. “They probably saw us board this train. We need to lose them, and maybe hide out for a while.” He made no mention of her physical state, knowing she wouldn’t like it being pointed out.
Then he stepped up in front of her and held out his hand, grinning. “What do you think about Galliano?”
——
When Paris had said they were going into hiding, Nausy expected something similar to her experience after the fall of Airyglyph: taking refuge in cold, dark caverns, foraging for scraps, living off the land. The last thing she expected was to end up in a lovely seaside town that was packed with people.
“Hiding in plain sight,” he’d told her, smirking. While he was the Cajuzinho, he normally didn’t travel as such, so he wasn’t as easily recognized. And, for good measure, they’d changed outfits several stops back, not only to be less conspicuous but also to blend with the town’s warmer atmosphere.
They arrived at a cozy little bed and breakfast, and were greeted with hugs by a rather enthusiastic old woman. Nausy bit her lip to stop herself from crying out in pain, knowing that the other lady only meant well. “Young love, how wonderful!” she exclaimed in delight. “Just married?”
Nausy’s eyes flew wide at the question. Married? So Galliano’s—
Paris laughed, putting an arm around Nausy’s waist and drawing her closer. He was standing on her left, so he didn’t have to worry about accidentally hitting her injured shoulder. “Yes, actually. And it’s, ah, kind of a secret?”
“You eloped? Oh, how romantic!”
——
Nausy stared out the window of their room, taking in the view. The sky was a lovely blue with pretty little white wisps, and the sea crystalline, stretching as far out as her eyes could see. It was simply breathtaking.
There was a knock on the door, and she turned around just in time to see Paris come in. He was carrying towels, clothes, some vials and bandages, which he’d put down on the bed closest to the room’s entrance… which was technically the only bed in the room. Because they were supposed to be newlyweds in town for their honeymoon.
“You don’t have to knock, husband,” she found herself saying, grinning. It was almost always too easy to fall into the rhythm of their playful banter. “The door’s always open for you.”
He straightened and tucked his hands into his pockets, his smile just as roguish. “And your heart as well?”
They stared at each other, the seconds feeling like a lifetime. That escalated quickly. Normally they would go a few rounds, teasing and baiting each other, until one of them — usually Paris — would take a hit, and things become awkward; then they would withdraw and pretend like nothing, absolutely nothing, was going on.
It was Nausy who looked away (again, as always), turning back to the window. She slowly let out a breath, and her feelings along with it. Or so she hoped. “Is that why you brought us here?”
He didn’t say anything to that, and she didn’t see him wince. Then he picked up the vials and bandages and walked over to stand behind her. “Let’s get that wound cleaned up properly.” Subject change, a classic tactic.
She looked over her shoulder to him. “It’s okay, I can do it—”
“Nausy.” His tone was firm, but his eyes were kind. He was almost always kind. “Please.”
And he was gentle. Kind, gentle, dutiful, loyal, patient, caring, adventurous, exasperatingly attractive, single… gods, what the hell was wrong with her?
She loved him. She’d only said it out loud once — and no less in front of Shiraz, his Bonded — and while she’d come up afterwards with so many reasons, so many excuses not to, who was she really kidding? She couldn’t deny the truth of the matter. And she was getting really tired of pretending that he didn’t mean as much to her as he truly did.
Don’t do anything that you cannot stay friends from, Shiraz had advised her.
But what was love, what was life, without risk, without stakes?
She looked over her shoulder again and was surprised to find that he’d already finished; she almost didn’t feel a thing as he cleaned up and dressed her wound. But he hadn’t moved away, his attention drawn to the strange, alien symbols tattooed on her skin.
“Paris?”
He touched the rune on the base of her neck, then, catching himself, pulled his hand away. “Sorry. Uh… it’s healing up nicely.” He looked like he had something else to say, but then he just shook his head, and took a step back. “You must be hungry. I’ll go find some food—”
She’d spun around and grabbed his hand. “Don’t go.”
His eyes widened in surprise — at the gesture, and at her expression. She was smiling, but it wasn’t her usual goofy, face-splitting grin; there was something almost vulnerable about it. And her eyes… he found himself holding his breath, for suddenly he felt like he could read in those eyes the very same things he couldn’t bring himself to say to her.
“Don’t go,” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. “Please.”
Then she tugged at his hand, trying to pull him gently towards her, and got up on her toes to kiss him.
You have stolen my heart; won’t you take the rest of me along with it?