15min fic #30
Sep. 6th, 2004 04:30 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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yrae
Title~ Sweet Surrender
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ This is mine. So there.
Notes~ 15 minute fic, word 30. I don't like this one. Remind me to never again do a 15min fic after 4am. It doesn't work. Ignore this one if you like, it's bad~
~ ~ ~
It had only been a brief engagement. It never took particularly long before Nimay’s sword tip lay flat under the prince’s chin, his hands empty and sword clattering to the ground.
Nolryn laid one hand over his heart before displaying the palm weakly to his opponent—the universal acceptance of defeat.
Nimay smirked at the pout directed down the length of her blade, raising an amused eyebrow when a tongue poked out from the pout. She rolled her eyes skyward before lowering the blade. ‘Mature, Nol, very mature.’
The prince shrugged and bent to pick up his thrai-shaped sword. “Always nice to have the last word, even in defeat.”
Nimay folded her arms and grinned wryly at her friend.
Nolryn frowned defensively. “Yes, even an immature last word.”
The swordswoman shifted her weight to her other foot, eyebrows raised in that particular way that would have gone perfectly with a sarcastic remark, were she physically able to make one. She knew how it infuriated people, Nolryn in particular.
The prince sighed in resignation, laying his hand over his heart once more. “I hate how you do that,” he said.
Nimay gave a grin that almost dripped with sugar. ‘I know!’
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ This is mine. So there.
Notes~ 15 minute fic, word 30. I don't like this one. Remind me to never again do a 15min fic after 4am. It doesn't work. Ignore this one if you like, it's bad~
It had only been a brief engagement. It never took particularly long before Nimay’s sword tip lay flat under the prince’s chin, his hands empty and sword clattering to the ground.
Nolryn laid one hand over his heart before displaying the palm weakly to his opponent—the universal acceptance of defeat.
Nimay smirked at the pout directed down the length of her blade, raising an amused eyebrow when a tongue poked out from the pout. She rolled her eyes skyward before lowering the blade. ‘Mature, Nol, very mature.’
The prince shrugged and bent to pick up his thrai-shaped sword. “Always nice to have the last word, even in defeat.”
Nimay folded her arms and grinned wryly at her friend.
Nolryn frowned defensively. “Yes, even an immature last word.”
The swordswoman shifted her weight to her other foot, eyebrows raised in that particular way that would have gone perfectly with a sarcastic remark, were she physically able to make one. She knew how it infuriated people, Nolryn in particular.
The prince sighed in resignation, laying his hand over his heart once more. “I hate how you do that,” he said.
Nimay gave a grin that almost dripped with sugar. ‘I know!’