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Wild Roses fic prompt 051 "Water"
Title: we who remain
'Verse/characters: Wild Roses; Hazel, Lin
Prompt: 051 "Water"
Word Count: 582
Notes: several hours after 'work', but the same day.
Her scratches and bruises had been catalogued, one set of competent hands on her skin while two other sets from different facilities--one from the Sandoval complex that she'd recognized only by reputation--looked on, making their own notes and comparing them to the slope she'd tumbled down. Even the smudges of dirt and the remains of the twigs in her hair had been sketched, classified, committed to memory and record. It was a slightly surreal experience--she'd read records like hers was going to be now, public memory of murder--and attempted murder, more relevant now--investigations at the highest levels.
It was the Sandoval-sent who'd nodded to her at the end, said in clear-water tones that words matched physical evidence. And that her family was fortunate that she had more skill than luck--luck alone wouldn't have saved her hide today.
She'd forced herself to nod back, instead of baring her teeth at the coldness, because that hadn't been required. And certainly not from the representative from her grandfather-the-King's old not-quite-enemy.
Tired, and beginning to ache everywhere she now knew she'd been marked by the day, she'd taken her leave of the investigation, caught her lover by the hand, and went home.
"Who was she?" she asked when she got out of the water, stood on latticed tile to drip before applying a cloth to her gently aching skin.
"He," her lover replied after an nearly unnoticeable pause. "His name was Isel."
She nodded, glancing at him briefly, caught the tense edge to his pose on the chair he'd pulled into the room when she'd said it was time for a bath. Others would probably have missed it; he was an expert liar in that sense.
Her hands gripping the curved-over enameled golden edge of the deep bathtub for balance, she leaned, naked, and considered him.
The tenseness coiled tighter, slowly, under her eye, and he flinched, just barely, when she asked "How did Isel die?" in as even a tone as she could.
"His throat was cut," Lin replied, very softly, and didn't blink once as he continued. "The investigation found that it was likely someone entered his rooms from the window, after the servants had retired for the evening, and let several others in through the front door. Physical evidence suggested he knew, and fought, before he died. Several secrets the Stars--the faction he was allied with--held were revealed after his death."
"That's not why he died," she said, as softly, "is it."
"No." He took a breath, let it out--she could see one of the veins in his throat pounding, mute testimony to his inner agitation--before he went on. "I would have joined him, in the Stars; it would have stacked several decks against the Silvers, information, networks, more in the same vein. The Silvers decided to prove a point to me."
She didn't bare her teeth and snarl, instead moving to pick up a towel and wrap it around her waist, skin pebbling as she cooled from the bath. If she'd been anything other that she was, human upon human upon human, she likely would have.
"A great many of your relatives," she said, certain that it had been family that had done this thing, "make me regret coming on the scene too late to have done anything to them."
"I," her lover said, rising and holding out a red, gold and brown robe of slubby silk to her, "am just as glad you arrived when you did."
'Verse/characters: Wild Roses; Hazel, Lin
Prompt: 051 "Water"
Word Count: 582
Notes: several hours after 'work', but the same day.
Her scratches and bruises had been catalogued, one set of competent hands on her skin while two other sets from different facilities--one from the Sandoval complex that she'd recognized only by reputation--looked on, making their own notes and comparing them to the slope she'd tumbled down. Even the smudges of dirt and the remains of the twigs in her hair had been sketched, classified, committed to memory and record. It was a slightly surreal experience--she'd read records like hers was going to be now, public memory of murder--and attempted murder, more relevant now--investigations at the highest levels.
It was the Sandoval-sent who'd nodded to her at the end, said in clear-water tones that words matched physical evidence. And that her family was fortunate that she had more skill than luck--luck alone wouldn't have saved her hide today.
She'd forced herself to nod back, instead of baring her teeth at the coldness, because that hadn't been required. And certainly not from the representative from her grandfather-the-King's old not-quite-enemy.
Tired, and beginning to ache everywhere she now knew she'd been marked by the day, she'd taken her leave of the investigation, caught her lover by the hand, and went home.
"Who was she?" she asked when she got out of the water, stood on latticed tile to drip before applying a cloth to her gently aching skin.
"He," her lover replied after an nearly unnoticeable pause. "His name was Isel."
She nodded, glancing at him briefly, caught the tense edge to his pose on the chair he'd pulled into the room when she'd said it was time for a bath. Others would probably have missed it; he was an expert liar in that sense.
Her hands gripping the curved-over enameled golden edge of the deep bathtub for balance, she leaned, naked, and considered him.
The tenseness coiled tighter, slowly, under her eye, and he flinched, just barely, when she asked "How did Isel die?" in as even a tone as she could.
"His throat was cut," Lin replied, very softly, and didn't blink once as he continued. "The investigation found that it was likely someone entered his rooms from the window, after the servants had retired for the evening, and let several others in through the front door. Physical evidence suggested he knew, and fought, before he died. Several secrets the Stars--the faction he was allied with--held were revealed after his death."
"That's not why he died," she said, as softly, "is it."
"No." He took a breath, let it out--she could see one of the veins in his throat pounding, mute testimony to his inner agitation--before he went on. "I would have joined him, in the Stars; it would have stacked several decks against the Silvers, information, networks, more in the same vein. The Silvers decided to prove a point to me."
She didn't bare her teeth and snarl, instead moving to pick up a towel and wrap it around her waist, skin pebbling as she cooled from the bath. If she'd been anything other that she was, human upon human upon human, she likely would have.
"A great many of your relatives," she said, certain that it had been family that had done this thing, "make me regret coming on the scene too late to have done anything to them."
"I," her lover said, rising and holding out a red, gold and brown robe of slubby silk to her, "am just as glad you arrived when you did."