15min fic #37
Sep. 15th, 2004 02:13 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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yrae
Title~ Actions Speak Louder
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ All mine, still.
Notes~ 15 minute fic, word 37. Mmm, angsty.
~ ~ ~
It was not a sandstorm in the true sense of the word. It bore more of a resemblance to a simple duster—if it were water that filled the air rather than sand, a Kazinian would name it ‘showers’—but Yamin was nevertheless thankful for the shutters that barred her window, rattling against the stiff wind that blew against them. There was little chance of the duster getting any stronger.
She drew her covers back and slid into bed, knowing sleep wouldn’t arrive for a while to come yet. All that was left now was to think, a process she had been trying to keep herself from doing for most of the day.
The morning had begun ordinarily enough, with the standard dozen or so men and women dribbling in to sip the sweet liquid that would remove the standard morning headache. The prince was among them, a scene that never failed to amuse the healer. For all his talk about how much alcohol was needed to get him drunk, he seemed to visit the healing house for the honey mixture on a more regular basis than most.
As with every other hungover Raykinian, he had downed the small cup of sweet, creamy syrup, then sat quietly on the edge of one of the stone blocks, cringing occasionally as he waited out the ten minutes it would take for the medicine to take effect.
But today had been different somehow. In contrast to every other morning, the prince’s mood had seemed to progressively worsen as his hangover improved, to the point where he was shooting daggers at the floor. Yamin had laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, silently encouraging him to shed light on his problems.
Instead, Nolryn had turned his glare on the healer, not saying a word. Something else had been in that glare, more than just anger at something that had happened the previous night. Anger was present, that was certain, but there was something else… Sorrow. Hurt.
Betrayal.
In a situation where Yamin would ordinarily have tried to comfort him further, she had drawn her hand awkwardly away, averting her worried gaze from the piercing brown one of the Raykinian heir. Having lived for seven years with a girl who never spoke, Yamin could read Nolryn’s expression as easily as if he had told her with words.
Whatever it was that had put that look in the prince’s eyes, he blamed her.
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ All mine, still.
Notes~ 15 minute fic, word 37. Mmm, angsty.
It was not a sandstorm in the true sense of the word. It bore more of a resemblance to a simple duster—if it were water that filled the air rather than sand, a Kazinian would name it ‘showers’—but Yamin was nevertheless thankful for the shutters that barred her window, rattling against the stiff wind that blew against them. There was little chance of the duster getting any stronger.
She drew her covers back and slid into bed, knowing sleep wouldn’t arrive for a while to come yet. All that was left now was to think, a process she had been trying to keep herself from doing for most of the day.
The morning had begun ordinarily enough, with the standard dozen or so men and women dribbling in to sip the sweet liquid that would remove the standard morning headache. The prince was among them, a scene that never failed to amuse the healer. For all his talk about how much alcohol was needed to get him drunk, he seemed to visit the healing house for the honey mixture on a more regular basis than most.
As with every other hungover Raykinian, he had downed the small cup of sweet, creamy syrup, then sat quietly on the edge of one of the stone blocks, cringing occasionally as he waited out the ten minutes it would take for the medicine to take effect.
But today had been different somehow. In contrast to every other morning, the prince’s mood had seemed to progressively worsen as his hangover improved, to the point where he was shooting daggers at the floor. Yamin had laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, silently encouraging him to shed light on his problems.
Instead, Nolryn had turned his glare on the healer, not saying a word. Something else had been in that glare, more than just anger at something that had happened the previous night. Anger was present, that was certain, but there was something else… Sorrow. Hurt.
Betrayal.
In a situation where Yamin would ordinarily have tried to comfort him further, she had drawn her hand awkwardly away, averting her worried gaze from the piercing brown one of the Raykinian heir. Having lived for seven years with a girl who never spoke, Yamin could read Nolryn’s expression as easily as if he had told her with words.
Whatever it was that had put that look in the prince’s eyes, he blamed her.