kawa~ inspiration #100
Oct. 27th, 2005 02:40 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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yrae
Title~ Damper
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ All of 'em are mine~
Notes~ kawa~ inspiration #100. Takes place at the same time as that one.
~ ~ ~
Kurae yawned widely and hunched his furs over his shoulders in a desperate effort to warm himself. He had the fire warming him from the front, but the stiff Kazinian breeze still shot icy daggers down his spine. He shivered, feeling a wave of goosebumps wash down his arms and legs, then reluctantly let one arm escape the relative warmth of his fur-lined cloak to poke at the breakfast cooking under the red-hot coals. It still needed a while yet.
His eyes scanned the campsite, wondering whether he should bother waking anyone yet. Ulkar would probably be up soon anyway; his country upbringing meant he was already used to rising early.
Sure enough, moments after the thought had passed his mind, the swordsman’s boots emerged from his tent before the country bumpkin himself crawled out, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with his right hand and clipping his scabbard to his belt with the other.
“How long for bre-fah?” he croaked, the last word dissolving into a yawn.
“When everyone else is up,” Kurae answered, poking again at the coals.
Ulkar stretched and took in a deep breath. “Mmm, damper. Smells good.”
The chef didn’t even grunt in reply, but Ulkar seemed undeterred. The Own was used to Kurae’s gruff handling of compliments on his cooking by now.
“There’s a hot spring over that way,” he said instead.
Ulkar grinned and wandered in the direction Kurae had indicated with a terse nod of his head. “Great, call me when we’re eating.”
Slowly, as wakefulness overtook them and left no option but to get up and start moving, the members of the King’s Own began dragging themselves out of their respective tents. The better part of an hour passed without any of the men returning from the hot springs. Kurae frowned into the trees, wondering what in Lin’s name was taking them so long. The swordsman-come-chef wasn’t worrisome by habit, but his brow remained creased as he poked thoughtfully at the coals again.
Surely Ulkar at least should be back by now, but no, the campsite was empty save Kurae and two remaining sleeping bodies—Nimay and Yoryl, the newly recruited blade archer.
Both were probably awake by now, but were trying to suck any remaining heat from their furs before resigning themselves to the land of the living. Yoryl wouldn’t move until absolutely necessary, but Nimay usually woke herself up, albeit considerably later than just about everyone else.
Sure enough, rustling came from the swordswoman’s direction, and Nimay emerged from her tent, hunching her furs over her shoulders. She frowned and scanned the near-empty campsite, casting a querying glance at Kurae.
The swordsman shrugged. “Something’s happening off that way,” he told her, jerking his head towards the hot springs and shifting the coals from the damper. “Breakfast’s ready if you want to go tear them away.”
Nimay nodded and disappeared obligingly into the trees. Kurae stood and began the process of digging up the damper.
“Yoryl, we’re eating.”
The blade archer groaned dramatically, obviously more for show than anything, as if maybe Kurae could grant him an extra minute in bed.
“Come on, move your arse and get the jam and butter. It’s damper.”
Yoryl’s muffled objection floated from the tent.
“Because the other guys have all nicked off,” Kurae explained dryly, fishing the damper from its hole and dropping it on a towel next to the fire pit. He dusted his hands off and scanned the area for his knife, spotting its handle poking from his horse’s saddlebag. “I need a dagger, too.”
The blade archer gave another theatrical groan before finally dragging himself from his tent and trudging over to the fire, hugging his furs around him and tossing a dagger to Kurae’s waiting hand, only for the swordsman to toss it right back.
“Thought that might get you moving,” Kurae grinned.
Yoryl poked his tongue out and sheathed his unneeded dagger. In a sudden moment of realisation, his eyes widened and he cupped one hand over his mouth, pointing vehemently at the chef. “You just grinned!” he spluttered, taking a step back from the sight rarer than a sober tenant at the ‘Thrai. “I swear you did!”
Kurae rolled his eyes and replaced his habitual stony expression. “Don’t forget your place, Newbie. Just get the jam and butter. It’s in Charcoal’s saddlebag.”
“Yessir,” Yoryl said, saluting the veteran Own rider and shuffling towards the horses.
Kurae watched the new recruit as he rifled through his saddlebags. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, least of all himself, but he couldn’t help but wonder what lay underneath the heavy fur cloak, couldn’t help imagining the smooth skin and delicate curves that so set him apart from the other men in the Own.
As if to answer him—or perhaps taunt him—the furs dropped back around Yoryl’s shoulders, revealing slender, unmarked arms. They were most definitely not the arms of one who rode with the King’s Own, and yet here he was. There were no muscles under that scarless skin, but he had no troubles in beating anyone but Kaen, the other blade archer, with a pair of fighting daggers in his hands. He was so lightning-quick that the flashing of blades that constituted a battle was over almost as soon as it had begun.
Such smooth skin…
“What are you looking at?”
Kurae started out of his thoughts. Yoryl had paused mid-step, jam in one hand and butter in the other, and a confused but coy expression on his face.
The swordsman shrugged and busied himself with brushing the dirt and ash from the crust of the damper. “Wondering how in Lin’s name you got in with toothpicks for arms.”
Yoryl glanced down at the aforementioned toothpicks, then giggled. He flicked the butter in the air and nailed a dagger into the damper loaf with his momentarily freed hand. “There’s half the reason.”
Kurae shook his head and removed the dagger from his damper. “Show off.”
The blade archer slapped one hand on his hip and punched a fist in the air. “You know it. Lin’s blood that’s cold.”
“Welcome to Kazin,” Kurae replied, forcing his voice to remain blank and emotionless as he stared very deliberately at the damper.
“I really wish people would stop saying that.” He tossed the jam over to Kurae and sat himself on a log as close to the fire as he could possibly get. “I feel like a sheep. How can you sit there with bare arms?”
Kurae shrugged again. “Eight years, twelve missions… You get used to it.”
Yoryl groaned and buried himself further into his cloak. He shivered violently as he stared hard into the fire, as though he was trying to absorb its heat through his eyes, or maybe sink himself into the weak flickers of the flames.
Suddenly Kurae noticed that the blade archer’s eyes were no longer on the fire, but instead fixed quizzically on Kurae’s own.
“Damper!”
Kurae jumped at the exclamation that burst from the trees just moments before the rest of the Own came thundering into the clearing.
The swordsman casually broke of a piece of damper and smeared it with butter, his usual, stony expression sliding easily back onto his face.
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ All of 'em are mine~
Notes~ kawa~ inspiration #100. Takes place at the same time as that one.
Kurae yawned widely and hunched his furs over his shoulders in a desperate effort to warm himself. He had the fire warming him from the front, but the stiff Kazinian breeze still shot icy daggers down his spine. He shivered, feeling a wave of goosebumps wash down his arms and legs, then reluctantly let one arm escape the relative warmth of his fur-lined cloak to poke at the breakfast cooking under the red-hot coals. It still needed a while yet.
His eyes scanned the campsite, wondering whether he should bother waking anyone yet. Ulkar would probably be up soon anyway; his country upbringing meant he was already used to rising early.
Sure enough, moments after the thought had passed his mind, the swordsman’s boots emerged from his tent before the country bumpkin himself crawled out, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with his right hand and clipping his scabbard to his belt with the other.
“How long for bre-fah?” he croaked, the last word dissolving into a yawn.
“When everyone else is up,” Kurae answered, poking again at the coals.
Ulkar stretched and took in a deep breath. “Mmm, damper. Smells good.”
The chef didn’t even grunt in reply, but Ulkar seemed undeterred. The Own was used to Kurae’s gruff handling of compliments on his cooking by now.
“There’s a hot spring over that way,” he said instead.
Ulkar grinned and wandered in the direction Kurae had indicated with a terse nod of his head. “Great, call me when we’re eating.”
Slowly, as wakefulness overtook them and left no option but to get up and start moving, the members of the King’s Own began dragging themselves out of their respective tents. The better part of an hour passed without any of the men returning from the hot springs. Kurae frowned into the trees, wondering what in Lin’s name was taking them so long. The swordsman-come-chef wasn’t worrisome by habit, but his brow remained creased as he poked thoughtfully at the coals again.
Surely Ulkar at least should be back by now, but no, the campsite was empty save Kurae and two remaining sleeping bodies—Nimay and Yoryl, the newly recruited blade archer.
Both were probably awake by now, but were trying to suck any remaining heat from their furs before resigning themselves to the land of the living. Yoryl wouldn’t move until absolutely necessary, but Nimay usually woke herself up, albeit considerably later than just about everyone else.
Sure enough, rustling came from the swordswoman’s direction, and Nimay emerged from her tent, hunching her furs over her shoulders. She frowned and scanned the near-empty campsite, casting a querying glance at Kurae.
The swordsman shrugged. “Something’s happening off that way,” he told her, jerking his head towards the hot springs and shifting the coals from the damper. “Breakfast’s ready if you want to go tear them away.”
Nimay nodded and disappeared obligingly into the trees. Kurae stood and began the process of digging up the damper.
“Yoryl, we’re eating.”
The blade archer groaned dramatically, obviously more for show than anything, as if maybe Kurae could grant him an extra minute in bed.
“Come on, move your arse and get the jam and butter. It’s damper.”
Yoryl’s muffled objection floated from the tent.
“Because the other guys have all nicked off,” Kurae explained dryly, fishing the damper from its hole and dropping it on a towel next to the fire pit. He dusted his hands off and scanned the area for his knife, spotting its handle poking from his horse’s saddlebag. “I need a dagger, too.”
The blade archer gave another theatrical groan before finally dragging himself from his tent and trudging over to the fire, hugging his furs around him and tossing a dagger to Kurae’s waiting hand, only for the swordsman to toss it right back.
“Thought that might get you moving,” Kurae grinned.
Yoryl poked his tongue out and sheathed his unneeded dagger. In a sudden moment of realisation, his eyes widened and he cupped one hand over his mouth, pointing vehemently at the chef. “You just grinned!” he spluttered, taking a step back from the sight rarer than a sober tenant at the ‘Thrai. “I swear you did!”
Kurae rolled his eyes and replaced his habitual stony expression. “Don’t forget your place, Newbie. Just get the jam and butter. It’s in Charcoal’s saddlebag.”
“Yessir,” Yoryl said, saluting the veteran Own rider and shuffling towards the horses.
Kurae watched the new recruit as he rifled through his saddlebags. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, least of all himself, but he couldn’t help but wonder what lay underneath the heavy fur cloak, couldn’t help imagining the smooth skin and delicate curves that so set him apart from the other men in the Own.
As if to answer him—or perhaps taunt him—the furs dropped back around Yoryl’s shoulders, revealing slender, unmarked arms. They were most definitely not the arms of one who rode with the King’s Own, and yet here he was. There were no muscles under that scarless skin, but he had no troubles in beating anyone but Kaen, the other blade archer, with a pair of fighting daggers in his hands. He was so lightning-quick that the flashing of blades that constituted a battle was over almost as soon as it had begun.
Such smooth skin…
“What are you looking at?”
Kurae started out of his thoughts. Yoryl had paused mid-step, jam in one hand and butter in the other, and a confused but coy expression on his face.
The swordsman shrugged and busied himself with brushing the dirt and ash from the crust of the damper. “Wondering how in Lin’s name you got in with toothpicks for arms.”
Yoryl glanced down at the aforementioned toothpicks, then giggled. He flicked the butter in the air and nailed a dagger into the damper loaf with his momentarily freed hand. “There’s half the reason.”
Kurae shook his head and removed the dagger from his damper. “Show off.”
The blade archer slapped one hand on his hip and punched a fist in the air. “You know it. Lin’s blood that’s cold.”
“Welcome to Kazin,” Kurae replied, forcing his voice to remain blank and emotionless as he stared very deliberately at the damper.
“I really wish people would stop saying that.” He tossed the jam over to Kurae and sat himself on a log as close to the fire as he could possibly get. “I feel like a sheep. How can you sit there with bare arms?”
Kurae shrugged again. “Eight years, twelve missions… You get used to it.”
Yoryl groaned and buried himself further into his cloak. He shivered violently as he stared hard into the fire, as though he was trying to absorb its heat through his eyes, or maybe sink himself into the weak flickers of the flames.
Suddenly Kurae noticed that the blade archer’s eyes were no longer on the fire, but instead fixed quizzically on Kurae’s own.
“Damper!”
Kurae jumped at the exclamation that burst from the trees just moments before the rest of the Own came thundering into the clearing.
The swordsman casually broke of a piece of damper and smeared it with butter, his usual, stony expression sliding easily back onto his face.
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Date: 2005-10-26 06:46 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2005-10-26 06:51 pm (UTC)DORK~ XDD
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Date: 2005-10-26 06:51 pm (UTC)Thank yoooou for writing them in an awkward moment ♥ =3
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Date: 2005-10-26 06:52 pm (UTC)