Two drabbles
Aug. 26th, 2007 10:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maderrSince they were fairly easy to write, and short. Both LG, requested by Kitty.
Treasure – Raiden Meets Kindan
"I want to sign on with a ship."
The voice was young but held a note of maturity it should not. Raiden slowly set down the diamonds he'd been admiring and quirked a brow at the tiny figure on the opposite side of his desk.
Oh, now that was interesting. The boy was a mermaid. All that white in a land of dusky skin and ocean-toned hair, he could be nothing else. Remarkable. He wondered if the boy knew. In all his years since waking, he had not encountered a taboo child of the sea.
The boy scowled at the lack of response. "I want to sign on to a ship. They said yours are the best. I have money. Sign me on."
"You look a little small to be signing on to a ship," Raiden said, mouth quirking. "How old are you? Where are your parents?"
The boy's eyes, the beautiful blue-gray of a cloudy sky, dimmed with shadows. He lifted his chin, as though daring Raiden to say anything more. "They're dead," he said flatly, and Raiden wondered what it had cost him to manage that uncaring tone. "I'm old enough. I can sail better than anyone out there; my parents taught me how."
"Yes," Raiden murmured. "I bet they did. The sea is a dangerous place for once such as you, boy."
Fear and anguish flickered in the boy's eyes, but after a moment it was conquered by that amazing stubborn anger. The boy burned hot for all he looked so cool. Raiden thought briefly, painfully, of Arashi. He killed the memories before they could overwhelm him again. "They won't get me," the boy said, voice only just barely above a whisper. "They got mom and dad, but they won't get me."
Raiden nodded slowly, hope beginning to fill him despite stern admonitions not to get carried away.
Still.
Here stood a very good candidate for what he would need someday, if the boy's quite perfect natural strengths could be properly improved upon and molded. A mermaid, yes. He was ideal.
Warning himself again not to get his hopes up, Raiden motioned the boy closer. "What have you to offer that I might agree to take you on? My ships don't need cabin boys, especially one as potentially dangerous as you, unless you can convince me the risk is worth it."
"700 paaru," the boy said quietly, and Raiden could tell the boy knew that wasn't enough to buy an official commission on a good ship.
He tilted his head, instincts screaming. Of course he'd take the boy on, regardless, but he could already tell the boy would refuse if he didn't feel himself to have earned it. "You're hiding something," he said, knowing he'd guessed right by the anger that flashed in those eyes.
"I'm not giving it to you," the boy spat out. "It's mine."
Raiden quirked a brow and tamped down on his amusement. "Let me see it; I'll not take it from you."
The boy glared at him for several minutes, and that he could hold still for so long was another mark in his favor. He wondered how quickly the boy would take over the running of his ships.
His thoughts scattered in all directions at the dagger the boy finally set on the edge of his desk. Beautiful. Highland silver. Sapphir. Stunning work, with the stamp of a Verde master craftsman.
It wasn't hard to place it; he always kept his ear to the wind about such things. Several weapons crafted as gifts…to the royal family of Kundou. Raiden nodded for the boy to take it back. "Where did you get that?" he asked softly.
"From a boy I met," the boy said. "He went home…but he'll be back. One day." His voice dropped, words barely audible. "We promised."
Raiden grunted. "700 paaru, then. I will put you on the Fuujin. If you can handle that ship, you can handle any ship. It leaves tomorrow morning." He scribbled out a note and handed the boy the scrap of parchment. "Take that to the Captain, he'll see you're taken care of."
The boy's eyes lit up, turning a breathtaking blue-gray that looked like moonlight on mist. "Yes, sir!" He didn't spare another moment, but turned and bolted from the room, and out the window Raiden could see him running toward the docks.
Laughing softly, sensing he had indeed made a very good choice, he went back to admiring his diamonds.
Burning Bright - Dym Realizes
He scowled at the way the other priests so quickly abandoned their prayers. Didn't they understand how important the prayers were? The simplest of them could soothe or strengthen any one of the visitors to the Cathedral. What might happen if a supplicant came needing help and these priests knew not what to say because they had been too busy gossiping?
Only knowing that his reprimands would acerbate the situation rather than repair it helped him hold his tongue. None were fond of the fact that he had been given gray robes; that he who had come from nowhere with nothing was so favored by his Eminence.
More than once he had pointed out that Eminence loved all of them equally, that they all were given those duties and responsibilities to which they were most suited…but obviously he had a long way to go before he was a good priest, because his words only ever angered rather than helped.
He wanted to be a good priest, he did. More than anything he wanted to help people the way Eminence had always helped him.
So he ignored the gossiping all around him and focused on his prayers, reciting them quietly, over and over again. When he felt he had adequately studied those they had been assigned for the day, he turned to those he had read on his own.
He faltered over a summer blessing, not quite remembering the third stanza, and in that pause he caught a snatch of the priests' conversation.
His cheeks heated and he ducked his head to hide it, grateful for once that no one ever paid him any mind.
Really, he should be used to it. He wondered sometimes where they all found time to be priests, the way they went on and on about the things they did to the pretty lads and ladies in the city…or occasionally here in the temple, and Dym wanted badly to tell except he wasn't going to run off and tell Eminence everything like everyone said he did because he didn't.
It felt as though his cheeks were on fire, but try as he might he could no longer block out the lewd conversation. Why did they constantly discuss such things? It was… he shook his head, not understanding.
Perhaps the problem was him. He'd never felt any of the stuff they described over and over; had never felt any sort of interest for the people they pointed out.
He didn't understand what the priests saw. How could any of the people who came to the Cathedral, how could any person anywhere, compare to Eminence?
When the priests commented on pretty miss' eyes, all he could see were eyes which flickered like flames. They pointed out the hair of a handsome lad, and he could think only of hair which started out deep red-brown and ended in tips of rich gold and vivid orange. The priests observed how this person moved, or how handsome that person appeared, and he did not see it. Eminence seemed to define elegance and grace, he was as warm as a fire on a cold winter night, and his smiles made all of Dym's troubles go away.
Did the priests see none of that? What was wrong with them? Why would they choose to love silly people when they could love…
Dym's heart sped up as the wicked thought lodged in his head, making his chest tight with anxiety and fear and…and he should not be thinking such a thing. Where had such a thought come from?
Clearly he had been listening too long to crass conversation. That would teach him to neglect his prayers.
He scrambled to his feet and fled the chamber, bolting through the hallways to his little cell. Throwing himself on his bed, he furiously dug up his sketchbook, determined to drown out the idiotic thoughts in his head.
Eminence had raised him. He remembered nothing from when he was a little boy before the days when he would play in Eminence's garden, laughing and cheering whenever Eminence ate his golden apples and sang.
Those evenings were always his favorite, when Eminence would eat one of his apples and sing until the sun finally set. It happened less often now, making Dym treasure them all the more.
Because those evenings were his earliest memories. Eminence had told him once that his family had very likely died of a plague and Dym had somehow survived. Dym had never really wondered much about it – he was happy with the life he had now.
Except he should not be thinking the thoughts tormenting him about the Sacred Zhar Ptitka who had been kind enough to raise an orphan and give him a most holy position in his Cathedral.
One day he would be the highest ranking priest in Pozhar; that meant he was to be pious and hardworking, kind and wise, strong and dependable, responsible and noble. He had to be the very best priest in the world, and a good priest did not think such inappropriate things about the god he served.
Dym stopped drawing and finally looked at what he had sketched, and dropped the sketchpad with a groan of despair.
There seemed to be no help for it. Now that he'd thought it, he could not unthink it – he seemed to be in love with his Eminence.
Fire and ash, what was he supposed to do? What would Eminence say? Think?
Dym swallowed and told himself to calm down. He would just…ignore it for now, bury it, channel it into his studies, until he did figure out what to do. Mortals didn't fall in love with gods, so he would just work even harder at the next best thing – being the Priest of Ashes.
Treasure – Raiden Meets Kindan
"I want to sign on with a ship."
The voice was young but held a note of maturity it should not. Raiden slowly set down the diamonds he'd been admiring and quirked a brow at the tiny figure on the opposite side of his desk.
Oh, now that was interesting. The boy was a mermaid. All that white in a land of dusky skin and ocean-toned hair, he could be nothing else. Remarkable. He wondered if the boy knew. In all his years since waking, he had not encountered a taboo child of the sea.
The boy scowled at the lack of response. "I want to sign on to a ship. They said yours are the best. I have money. Sign me on."
"You look a little small to be signing on to a ship," Raiden said, mouth quirking. "How old are you? Where are your parents?"
The boy's eyes, the beautiful blue-gray of a cloudy sky, dimmed with shadows. He lifted his chin, as though daring Raiden to say anything more. "They're dead," he said flatly, and Raiden wondered what it had cost him to manage that uncaring tone. "I'm old enough. I can sail better than anyone out there; my parents taught me how."
"Yes," Raiden murmured. "I bet they did. The sea is a dangerous place for once such as you, boy."
Fear and anguish flickered in the boy's eyes, but after a moment it was conquered by that amazing stubborn anger. The boy burned hot for all he looked so cool. Raiden thought briefly, painfully, of Arashi. He killed the memories before they could overwhelm him again. "They won't get me," the boy said, voice only just barely above a whisper. "They got mom and dad, but they won't get me."
Raiden nodded slowly, hope beginning to fill him despite stern admonitions not to get carried away.
Still.
Here stood a very good candidate for what he would need someday, if the boy's quite perfect natural strengths could be properly improved upon and molded. A mermaid, yes. He was ideal.
Warning himself again not to get his hopes up, Raiden motioned the boy closer. "What have you to offer that I might agree to take you on? My ships don't need cabin boys, especially one as potentially dangerous as you, unless you can convince me the risk is worth it."
"700 paaru," the boy said quietly, and Raiden could tell the boy knew that wasn't enough to buy an official commission on a good ship.
He tilted his head, instincts screaming. Of course he'd take the boy on, regardless, but he could already tell the boy would refuse if he didn't feel himself to have earned it. "You're hiding something," he said, knowing he'd guessed right by the anger that flashed in those eyes.
"I'm not giving it to you," the boy spat out. "It's mine."
Raiden quirked a brow and tamped down on his amusement. "Let me see it; I'll not take it from you."
The boy glared at him for several minutes, and that he could hold still for so long was another mark in his favor. He wondered how quickly the boy would take over the running of his ships.
His thoughts scattered in all directions at the dagger the boy finally set on the edge of his desk. Beautiful. Highland silver. Sapphir. Stunning work, with the stamp of a Verde master craftsman.
It wasn't hard to place it; he always kept his ear to the wind about such things. Several weapons crafted as gifts…to the royal family of Kundou. Raiden nodded for the boy to take it back. "Where did you get that?" he asked softly.
"From a boy I met," the boy said. "He went home…but he'll be back. One day." His voice dropped, words barely audible. "We promised."
Raiden grunted. "700 paaru, then. I will put you on the Fuujin. If you can handle that ship, you can handle any ship. It leaves tomorrow morning." He scribbled out a note and handed the boy the scrap of parchment. "Take that to the Captain, he'll see you're taken care of."
The boy's eyes lit up, turning a breathtaking blue-gray that looked like moonlight on mist. "Yes, sir!" He didn't spare another moment, but turned and bolted from the room, and out the window Raiden could see him running toward the docks.
Laughing softly, sensing he had indeed made a very good choice, he went back to admiring his diamonds.
Burning Bright - Dym Realizes
He scowled at the way the other priests so quickly abandoned their prayers. Didn't they understand how important the prayers were? The simplest of them could soothe or strengthen any one of the visitors to the Cathedral. What might happen if a supplicant came needing help and these priests knew not what to say because they had been too busy gossiping?
Only knowing that his reprimands would acerbate the situation rather than repair it helped him hold his tongue. None were fond of the fact that he had been given gray robes; that he who had come from nowhere with nothing was so favored by his Eminence.
More than once he had pointed out that Eminence loved all of them equally, that they all were given those duties and responsibilities to which they were most suited…but obviously he had a long way to go before he was a good priest, because his words only ever angered rather than helped.
He wanted to be a good priest, he did. More than anything he wanted to help people the way Eminence had always helped him.
So he ignored the gossiping all around him and focused on his prayers, reciting them quietly, over and over again. When he felt he had adequately studied those they had been assigned for the day, he turned to those he had read on his own.
He faltered over a summer blessing, not quite remembering the third stanza, and in that pause he caught a snatch of the priests' conversation.
His cheeks heated and he ducked his head to hide it, grateful for once that no one ever paid him any mind.
Really, he should be used to it. He wondered sometimes where they all found time to be priests, the way they went on and on about the things they did to the pretty lads and ladies in the city…or occasionally here in the temple, and Dym wanted badly to tell except he wasn't going to run off and tell Eminence everything like everyone said he did because he didn't.
It felt as though his cheeks were on fire, but try as he might he could no longer block out the lewd conversation. Why did they constantly discuss such things? It was… he shook his head, not understanding.
Perhaps the problem was him. He'd never felt any of the stuff they described over and over; had never felt any sort of interest for the people they pointed out.
He didn't understand what the priests saw. How could any of the people who came to the Cathedral, how could any person anywhere, compare to Eminence?
When the priests commented on pretty miss' eyes, all he could see were eyes which flickered like flames. They pointed out the hair of a handsome lad, and he could think only of hair which started out deep red-brown and ended in tips of rich gold and vivid orange. The priests observed how this person moved, or how handsome that person appeared, and he did not see it. Eminence seemed to define elegance and grace, he was as warm as a fire on a cold winter night, and his smiles made all of Dym's troubles go away.
Did the priests see none of that? What was wrong with them? Why would they choose to love silly people when they could love…
Dym's heart sped up as the wicked thought lodged in his head, making his chest tight with anxiety and fear and…and he should not be thinking such a thing. Where had such a thought come from?
Clearly he had been listening too long to crass conversation. That would teach him to neglect his prayers.
He scrambled to his feet and fled the chamber, bolting through the hallways to his little cell. Throwing himself on his bed, he furiously dug up his sketchbook, determined to drown out the idiotic thoughts in his head.
Eminence had raised him. He remembered nothing from when he was a little boy before the days when he would play in Eminence's garden, laughing and cheering whenever Eminence ate his golden apples and sang.
Those evenings were always his favorite, when Eminence would eat one of his apples and sing until the sun finally set. It happened less often now, making Dym treasure them all the more.
Because those evenings were his earliest memories. Eminence had told him once that his family had very likely died of a plague and Dym had somehow survived. Dym had never really wondered much about it – he was happy with the life he had now.
Except he should not be thinking the thoughts tormenting him about the Sacred Zhar Ptitka who had been kind enough to raise an orphan and give him a most holy position in his Cathedral.
One day he would be the highest ranking priest in Pozhar; that meant he was to be pious and hardworking, kind and wise, strong and dependable, responsible and noble. He had to be the very best priest in the world, and a good priest did not think such inappropriate things about the god he served.
Dym stopped drawing and finally looked at what he had sketched, and dropped the sketchpad with a groan of despair.
There seemed to be no help for it. Now that he'd thought it, he could not unthink it – he seemed to be in love with his Eminence.
Fire and ash, what was he supposed to do? What would Eminence say? Think?
Dym swallowed and told himself to calm down. He would just…ignore it for now, bury it, channel it into his studies, until he did figure out what to do. Mortals didn't fall in love with gods, so he would just work even harder at the next best thing – being the Priest of Ashes.
no subject
Date: 2007-08-27 02:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-27 02:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-27 02:50 am (UTC)^________________^ Is it just me or is Raiden so awesomely awesome? [His thoughts scattered in all directions at the dagger the boy finally set on the edge of his desk. Beautiful. Highland silver. Sapphir. Stunning work, with the stamp of a Verde master craftsman. ] True obsession with pretties. XD He reminds me of a pretty pretty magpie.
And KINDAN! Little kid KINDAN! I love the way you made him so stubborn, shouldering so many burdens, but still so fascinating.
Blargh. I'm losing track of my thoughts.
no subject
Date: 2007-08-27 02:56 am (UTC)I'm not going to bother quoting, cause I can't choose between such awesome phrases.
By the way, I love love love the way you made this drabble really contrast with the other one. (Well, maybe just a little bit.) But there were so many heart-breaking sentences mixed in with those that just made me want to hit Dym on the head, repeatedly.
>.> I think the reason why I'm so emotional is because of these little things you write.
no subject
Date: 2007-08-27 02:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-27 02:59 am (UTC)Dym makes me want to cuddle him and say "silly boy, he would think that it's a good idea!"
And I love a look at a young Kindan. And Raiden, with his dragon's love of pretty sparklies and nice things.
no subject
Date: 2007-08-27 04:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-27 11:40 am (UTC)Out of curiosity's sake, are you any closer to completing that final chapter of Lost Gods? The suspense kills me... ^__^
no subject
Date: 2007-08-27 01:58 pm (UTC)And Dym!!! Oh, poor innocent Dym. I love the perfection of the burning want, which is so much better, often, than the getting, but still... the rejection on the horizon makes me ache for him. And then 1000 years before he finally gets what he wants. *sigh*
Beautiful.
no subject
Date: 2007-08-27 08:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-27 09:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-13 11:29 am (UTC)Last little thing : "The sea is a dangerous place for once such as you, boy" : "once"? English not my language, so... but seems strange.