![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: so fall the dominos
'Verse/characters: Wild Roses; Aodh, Hazel, Lin
Prompt: 089 "Work"
Word Count: 500
Notes: follows 'Earth'.
'He's done this before,' she thought, her hands still in her pockets, watching her cousin and her lover circle. Both obviously knew what they were doing, feet never touching spills of soil or the bright, oozing line spur-cut through a plant's stem.
Lin was only a little out of place, glancing at the arrested spells in detached, intellectual interest as he hiked up the slope a ways, always in eyesight of her, then returned, quiet, lightly placed footsteps making him look like a pacing cat.
The coils were still pulsing--she could only think that it must be in reaction to Aodh's heartbeat--when her father reappeared, looking a little stunned.
"The King has heard," he said formally, addressing Aodh, who nodded, then dipped one of his hands into a pocket.
The hand emerged with a tangle of red cord, decorated with gold and knotted around a small jade-coloured stone bottle, and she heard her father take a quick breath before he stilled, waiting for something she had no way of guessing.
Aodh, eyes on the spells around them, slipped the cord across, around and through his fingers one-handed, nails looping shapes into place.
"Bonjour," he told the air, half-lazily, "feel like an assassination investigation?"
"Tell me you're joking," a rusty female voice replied, irritated in a just-woken way. "--Who?"
"Attempt only," he reassured, "and t'was Hazel Sabaey."
" . . Well. Fuck. That'll be an ant's nest proper, won't it."
Lights flickered near him, and he took a half-step to the left as an elbow emerged from nothingness where his head had been, the voice attached to a tall, mahogany skinned woman with small raised scars on her lower back, disappearing as she finished pulling a burnt-saffron shirt over her head and shook out her hair. "Words," she commanded, pulling her own gold-adorned red cord from beneath her shirt to hang between her breasts, and he grinned sidelong up at her, letting go the cord tangle in his hand and returning it to his pocket.
"Deadfall," he pointed his now-free hand up the slope, "caught the spells rigging it as they began to run, but I can't be seen running this."
"No, you can't," she agreed, eying the tangles with an interested eye. "Decent mage involved, at least in the design level. Am I the first-called?"
"The King knows," he replied, and nodded to the others. "Her father, her lover, and she herself."
The woman snorted. "Tracking spells," half a question, and Aodh chuckled in reply.
"Take the strings, if y'will, Sahvi, or make your calls first and then do. The King's either going to wind himself tight as a spring from the waiting or someone's going to take a potshot while we're all distracted, and neither makes a pleasant day for you."
She grinned, sharp white teeth in her brown face, and inclined her head to Hazel, who was bristling with curiousity and didn't really care who knew about it.
"Congratulations on living, princess," the Hand said, "and welcome to the headache."
'Verse/characters: Wild Roses; Aodh, Hazel, Lin
Prompt: 089 "Work"
Word Count: 500
Notes: follows 'Earth'.
'He's done this before,' she thought, her hands still in her pockets, watching her cousin and her lover circle. Both obviously knew what they were doing, feet never touching spills of soil or the bright, oozing line spur-cut through a plant's stem.
Lin was only a little out of place, glancing at the arrested spells in detached, intellectual interest as he hiked up the slope a ways, always in eyesight of her, then returned, quiet, lightly placed footsteps making him look like a pacing cat.
The coils were still pulsing--she could only think that it must be in reaction to Aodh's heartbeat--when her father reappeared, looking a little stunned.
"The King has heard," he said formally, addressing Aodh, who nodded, then dipped one of his hands into a pocket.
The hand emerged with a tangle of red cord, decorated with gold and knotted around a small jade-coloured stone bottle, and she heard her father take a quick breath before he stilled, waiting for something she had no way of guessing.
Aodh, eyes on the spells around them, slipped the cord across, around and through his fingers one-handed, nails looping shapes into place.
"Bonjour," he told the air, half-lazily, "feel like an assassination investigation?"
"Tell me you're joking," a rusty female voice replied, irritated in a just-woken way. "--Who?"
"Attempt only," he reassured, "and t'was Hazel Sabaey."
" . . Well. Fuck. That'll be an ant's nest proper, won't it."
Lights flickered near him, and he took a half-step to the left as an elbow emerged from nothingness where his head had been, the voice attached to a tall, mahogany skinned woman with small raised scars on her lower back, disappearing as she finished pulling a burnt-saffron shirt over her head and shook out her hair. "Words," she commanded, pulling her own gold-adorned red cord from beneath her shirt to hang between her breasts, and he grinned sidelong up at her, letting go the cord tangle in his hand and returning it to his pocket.
"Deadfall," he pointed his now-free hand up the slope, "caught the spells rigging it as they began to run, but I can't be seen running this."
"No, you can't," she agreed, eying the tangles with an interested eye. "Decent mage involved, at least in the design level. Am I the first-called?"
"The King knows," he replied, and nodded to the others. "Her father, her lover, and she herself."
The woman snorted. "Tracking spells," half a question, and Aodh chuckled in reply.
"Take the strings, if y'will, Sahvi, or make your calls first and then do. The King's either going to wind himself tight as a spring from the waiting or someone's going to take a potshot while we're all distracted, and neither makes a pleasant day for you."
She grinned, sharp white teeth in her brown face, and inclined her head to Hazel, who was bristling with curiousity and didn't really care who knew about it.
"Congratulations on living, princess," the Hand said, "and welcome to the headache."
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-05-09 01:44 am (UTC)From:"Congratulations on living, princess," the Hand said, "and welcome to the headache."
. . .oh, god, yes. There is an overwhelming whelm of agreement from everyone who would know.
I like Sahvi. Which I mistyped as "Savhi" twice. :|