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Title: breath and shadows
’Verse/characters: Wild Roses, Conall, Isael, Aodh
Prompt: 054 – "Air"
Word Count: 763
Rating: PG
Notes: some months after the as-yet unwritten events following the expansion of Summons; if a reminder's needed, Conall's a werewolf.
A pinch of familiar tobacco-smoke smell was his first clue, made him lift his head and scent the breeze in a form unsuited to it, trying to identify both smell and the charcoal-gold-sparked-faded-red colours it painted in his head.
Madeleine's blend, he realized eventually, circling through gold-scented drafts of women's perfumes and Hazel's cayenne-edged wake, but Madé's dead.
Madeleine's brother then, somewhere out of easy sight-- he caught Isael's eye across the room and lifted two fingers to the corner of his mouth, pulling a drag from a nonexistent cigarette.
Isael blinked, then tilted his head, flicked his fingers in a dandelion puff question. Nodded when Conall shook his head--nearby but not in sight--began circling his own way gradually to Conall's edge of the room, by the strongest-scented drafts.
"Eyes high," he rumbled, near subvocal, as Isael walked by, bumping shoulders in casual friendly greeting. "Tobacco smoke and a night sky, not storehouses."
"Heard," Isael replied in unconsciously casual French, and prowled out into the hallway.
*
He spotted a cracked-open sniper's window before he spotted anything amiss in the shadowy shapes of the rafters. Wondered, for a moment, why his cousin hadn't closed the window—then remembered that not everyone would be able to pick tobacco smoke out of the mixed scents of a celebration. And even Conall might have trouble, with so many people, or assume someone else.
He stared upwards for a while, trying, then finally gave in. "Up, please?" he asked the ceiling, just loud enough to carry to only mostly human ears, and wondered if the listener knew how much trust that sentence carried within it; he couldn't catch himself, if magic should happen to falter, intentionally or not.
A pause, then a fine-boned hand emerged from the shadows, fingers crooked like they were manipulating marionette's strings, and gravity gave way beneath his feet.
The spell stopped just below the level of the beam Aodh was perched on, and Isael hauled himself onto it, leaning back against one of the rafters and draping one leg over into empty space.
"Your eyes are doing the reflective thing again," he said conversationally after a few minutes of silence and smoke rings that made his cousin look more draconic than he should.
"I know," replied his companion, exhaling a smoke rectangle, then a series of small squares, "It's easier to see."
Trying a different tack, "where's the kid?"
"Fishing for piranha along the Amazon river," Aodh said instantly, smoke drifting out alongside the words, yellow eyes crinkled in amusement.
Isael looked at him, then calmly stuck out a booted foot towards his cousin.
Aodh blinked at it, then up at Isael. "You've actually got bells on?"
"Hazel insisted, after the last time she nearly went over the banister after turning a corner and finding me."
"Doesn't help, does it?" Aodh asked, grinning.
Isael grinned back. "Not in the least."
"Thought not." He exhaled a egg-shape, then, obviously thinking about it, blew a small dragon that winged its way over to dissipate in Isael's hair. "What brings you to my perch, o cousin?"
"Curiousity," he replied as he withdrew his foot, setting it back down on the beam, bells silent. "You came, but you're not on the dance floor, nor illustrating stories with that—" he gestured to the cigarette.
Aodh blinked at him thoughtfully, then proffered it, set between the tips of his fingers, free hand moving to one of his many pockets.
Isael blinked back, then reached over and accepted, settling the half-smoked cigarette down low between his knuckles and taking a long drag. Around a stream of his own smoke, coughing only slightly, "Have I offended in asking?"
" . . Non," his cousin smiled at his thigh and the translucent paper he was filling. "Or no more so than usual, 'ch you m'take as y'may." Rolling the cigarette down his thigh, then flicking it up to seal it shut with the tip of his tongue, "Some days it's nice to hear the family happy, without having to change things by being there."
Isael blew a stream of smoke as deliberately as he could toward Aodh. "There's more to't than that, cousin—"
The spark Aodh snapped to light his newly finished replacement burned much brighter for a moment, bright enough to distract the eye and leave darkness in its passing, save for the glowing coal as he took a drag. "Leave it, bard's son," he said, trailing smoke from his nose. "Consequences before your time, and I've no wish to share them."
" . . . as you will," Isael said, reluctant, and settled back against his rafter, trying unsuccessfully to match his cousin's smoke rings.
’Verse/characters: Wild Roses, Conall, Isael, Aodh
Prompt: 054 – "Air"
Word Count: 763
Rating: PG
Notes: some months after the as-yet unwritten events following the expansion of Summons; if a reminder's needed, Conall's a werewolf.
A pinch of familiar tobacco-smoke smell was his first clue, made him lift his head and scent the breeze in a form unsuited to it, trying to identify both smell and the charcoal-gold-sparked-faded-red colours it painted in his head.
Madeleine's blend, he realized eventually, circling through gold-scented drafts of women's perfumes and Hazel's cayenne-edged wake, but Madé's dead.
Madeleine's brother then, somewhere out of easy sight-- he caught Isael's eye across the room and lifted two fingers to the corner of his mouth, pulling a drag from a nonexistent cigarette.
Isael blinked, then tilted his head, flicked his fingers in a dandelion puff question. Nodded when Conall shook his head--nearby but not in sight--began circling his own way gradually to Conall's edge of the room, by the strongest-scented drafts.
"Eyes high," he rumbled, near subvocal, as Isael walked by, bumping shoulders in casual friendly greeting. "Tobacco smoke and a night sky, not storehouses."
"Heard," Isael replied in unconsciously casual French, and prowled out into the hallway.
*
He spotted a cracked-open sniper's window before he spotted anything amiss in the shadowy shapes of the rafters. Wondered, for a moment, why his cousin hadn't closed the window—then remembered that not everyone would be able to pick tobacco smoke out of the mixed scents of a celebration. And even Conall might have trouble, with so many people, or assume someone else.
He stared upwards for a while, trying, then finally gave in. "Up, please?" he asked the ceiling, just loud enough to carry to only mostly human ears, and wondered if the listener knew how much trust that sentence carried within it; he couldn't catch himself, if magic should happen to falter, intentionally or not.
A pause, then a fine-boned hand emerged from the shadows, fingers crooked like they were manipulating marionette's strings, and gravity gave way beneath his feet.
The spell stopped just below the level of the beam Aodh was perched on, and Isael hauled himself onto it, leaning back against one of the rafters and draping one leg over into empty space.
"Your eyes are doing the reflective thing again," he said conversationally after a few minutes of silence and smoke rings that made his cousin look more draconic than he should.
"I know," replied his companion, exhaling a smoke rectangle, then a series of small squares, "It's easier to see."
Trying a different tack, "where's the kid?"
"Fishing for piranha along the Amazon river," Aodh said instantly, smoke drifting out alongside the words, yellow eyes crinkled in amusement.
Isael looked at him, then calmly stuck out a booted foot towards his cousin.
Aodh blinked at it, then up at Isael. "You've actually got bells on?"
"Hazel insisted, after the last time she nearly went over the banister after turning a corner and finding me."
"Doesn't help, does it?" Aodh asked, grinning.
Isael grinned back. "Not in the least."
"Thought not." He exhaled a egg-shape, then, obviously thinking about it, blew a small dragon that winged its way over to dissipate in Isael's hair. "What brings you to my perch, o cousin?"
"Curiousity," he replied as he withdrew his foot, setting it back down on the beam, bells silent. "You came, but you're not on the dance floor, nor illustrating stories with that—" he gestured to the cigarette.
Aodh blinked at him thoughtfully, then proffered it, set between the tips of his fingers, free hand moving to one of his many pockets.
Isael blinked back, then reached over and accepted, settling the half-smoked cigarette down low between his knuckles and taking a long drag. Around a stream of his own smoke, coughing only slightly, "Have I offended in asking?"
" . . Non," his cousin smiled at his thigh and the translucent paper he was filling. "Or no more so than usual, 'ch you m'take as y'may." Rolling the cigarette down his thigh, then flicking it up to seal it shut with the tip of his tongue, "Some days it's nice to hear the family happy, without having to change things by being there."
Isael blew a stream of smoke as deliberately as he could toward Aodh. "There's more to't than that, cousin—"
The spark Aodh snapped to light his newly finished replacement burned much brighter for a moment, bright enough to distract the eye and leave darkness in its passing, save for the glowing coal as he took a drag. "Leave it, bard's son," he said, trailing smoke from his nose. "Consequences before your time, and I've no wish to share them."
" . . . as you will," Isael said, reluctant, and settled back against his rafter, trying unsuccessfully to match his cousin's smoke rings.
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no subject
Date: 2006-08-08 11:39 am (UTC)From:isael always goes looking, if he knows he's around, doesn't he?
i like how he picked up on him, and the nearly subvocal communication with conall.
"Fishing for piranha along the Amazon river," *dies*
...he might feel alien, but this has weight to it, a good weight, and a certain comfort, from even further from the outside.
granted, might be projecting--i don't have his reasons, but i always prefered watching the family to joining in, so my associations are probably slightly skewed.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-08 02:36 pm (UTC)From::) They work well together, the werewolf and the bard's son.
I have No Idea if there's any truth behind tha', though I totally wouldn't put it past anyone. :D
I tend to watch, too, instead of joining in; in this case, yeah, there's more at play.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-08 04:07 pm (UTC)From:And that he notices the potential-danger first...
How does Conall know to suggest 'up'? Just that he knows Aodh, or..?
no subject
Date: 2006-08-08 04:28 pm (UTC)From: (Anonymous)Conall's smelling outside air, not basement air.
. . that and he knows Aodh tends to perch. :)
no subject
Date: 2006-08-08 04:47 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2009-08-17 09:41 pm (UTC)From:This is a very nice piece, where it touches on trust and where it ends in particular.
no subject
Date: 2009-08-17 09:42 pm (UTC)From::) Thanks.
no subject
Date: 2009-08-17 09:48 pm (UTC)From: