![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: Dead poets
’Verse/characters: Wild Roses; Jared and Logan
Prompt: 025 “Strangers”
Word Count: 174
Rating: PG for sibling rivalry and insults
Notes: Ruadhan’s elder children.
The dark haired man looked up from the pad of paper he’d been covering with neatly slanting script. “I do desire we may be better strangers.”
“Don’t quote dead poets at me, Jared.”
“He was a playwright, before he was a poet, Logan,” Jared leaned back in his chair. “Reading might do something to fill your empty hours, instead of picking fights you’ve not a prayer of winning.”
“There was a day you were not so mightily smug,” Logan said conversationally, looking up at the carved ivy along the edge of the ceiling.
“Was that the day I nearly beat your head in with the leg of the chair you broke? Or did you mean the day I was obliged to keep our respected aunt from shooting you? Or perhaps you meant the –“
Logan snarled down at the seated man. “I hate you, writer.”
“I’m none too fond of you, duelist,” Jared replied calmly, flipping a pen easily along his fingers. “But that doesn’t make us other than brothers, and you the younger.”
’Verse/characters: Wild Roses; Jared and Logan
Prompt: 025 “Strangers”
Word Count: 174
Rating: PG for sibling rivalry and insults
Notes: Ruadhan’s elder children.
The dark haired man looked up from the pad of paper he’d been covering with neatly slanting script. “I do desire we may be better strangers.”
“Don’t quote dead poets at me, Jared.”
“He was a playwright, before he was a poet, Logan,” Jared leaned back in his chair. “Reading might do something to fill your empty hours, instead of picking fights you’ve not a prayer of winning.”
“There was a day you were not so mightily smug,” Logan said conversationally, looking up at the carved ivy along the edge of the ceiling.
“Was that the day I nearly beat your head in with the leg of the chair you broke? Or did you mean the day I was obliged to keep our respected aunt from shooting you? Or perhaps you meant the –“
Logan snarled down at the seated man. “I hate you, writer.”
“I’m none too fond of you, duelist,” Jared replied calmly, flipping a pen easily along his fingers. “But that doesn’t make us other than brothers, and you the younger.”
