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yrae2006-01-11 03:17 am
annarti.livejournal.com) wrote in yrae2006-01-11 03:17 am
Entry tags:
kawa~ inspiration #115
Title~ Apology
Authors~ Annarti and Sallie
Disclaimers~ Lynnlita and Llayad are 'narti's, War is Sallie's
Notes~ kawa~ #115. Another joint fic, cos damn they're fun, even if we're on opposite sides of the world to do them now ^^;
~ ~ ~
Lynnlita rested back on the wooden bench and fanned herself delicately. She closed her eyes and sighed, listening to the breeze as it hushed through the acacias, bringing little relief. The air even sounded warm as it blew in from the endless eastern desert. It wasn't so hot that the birds had ceased their singing, and Lynnlita focussed her hearing on their delicate tunes instead of the warm breeze.
The sweet sounds of the breeze were interrupted suddenly by the heavy crunch of gravel. The obtrusive sound almost seemed to come from nowhere, but that really couldn’t be true.
War sauntered casually through the garden, his purple hair standing out a mile even if his clothes and attitude didn’t. His thumbs were caught in the belt loops of his jeans, and he almost strutted effortlessly on his long legs, aiming towards Lynnlita. “Ah, the fair princess,” The Force smiled charmingly, effortlessly working with the strange Llayan tongue. “Lynnlita certainly is an exceptionally beautiful flower to find in this garden.”
You know what your problem is? War asked himself in a confidential tone in his mind. Your problem is that you can’t just leave anything alone. He knew that much was true, but he blamed it on the ever changing art of women. They just kept luring you in – no, actually, he was perfectly in control. Scrap that. The problem with the ever changing art of women was that you had to keep checking up and making sure they’d reacted in the way you’d expected them too.
Okay, maybe there was a little bit of a lure too. But frankly, the princess was so well endowed she probably had her own gravitational pull, which would account for that lure.
Lynnlita stiffened. She knew that voice. She knew it all too well. She'd been wondering for months how she'd react if she ever saw him again, and now that he was here, swaggering with far too much confidence towards, her, she still didn't know how to react.
She straightened abruptly and turned something that might have been a glare on the intrusive Force, if not for the fact that she wasn't entirely sure if she wanted to glare at him.
"What in... when... but..." She shook her head in frustration at her complete lack of eloquency, then gave up on words entirely and just sat there, shaking her head. This was most certainly not how she'd pictured in her head the first man to make her speechless.
War slowly raised a dark eyebrow, rubbing his chin. Already things weren’t exactly going as expected. He had been sure that he’d be slapped within the first ten seconds of sauntering in... but then again, girls loved a bad boy and posh girls loved a bit of rough trade; and War could be as bad or as rough as anyone else.
War’s boot caught the edge of the wide bench Lynnlita was sitting on, and he bent his leg, resting most of his weight there. “The princess seems quite perturbed," War commented, casually.
Lynnlita shook her head irritably. She wasn't melting at that husky voice, she wasn't. "War has certainly lived up to his name," she said finally. Amyrallyn had told her to slap him the instant she was within range. Her mother had told her to remain calm; she was a princess, after all. Her brother had told her to call for him so he could protect his dear baby sister.
Somehow though, she couldn't quite bring herself to do either of those things.
War kept his eyes politely on the princess’ face, but for all intents and purposes he was watching her very closely. Judging her expressions, watching her body language – and in the end he had concluded that Lynnlita herself didn’t know what to think about their whole prior meeting and the way it ended.
War managed not to smirk at that, smoothly continuing with his charm at full power. “War regrets that he is only a personification, and therefore must be somewhat like that he lives for.”
"Apparently so..."
...Oh let the gods live with it.
She stood up abruptly and slapped the Force sharply across his face, forcing her expression to turn to the venomous one she often wore when faced with men who were just that little bit too sure of themselves.
Now that was what War had been expecting, and some small part of him got a sense of comfort out of that. After so many years of – maybe minor - mistreatment of women’s feelings, and being friends with Pestilence, War had learnt to take his lumps when he deserved them.
Of course, he considered himself lucky that after that many years of slapping most of the nerve endings in his face were long dead. Lynnlita certainly wielded an aggressive bitch-slap.
War casually shrugged his foot back onto the floor, standing at his full height before he rubbed his chin with his hand, as if that might bring back the feeling in his cheek. He ran his tongue over his lips before he pulled them back into the charming smile again. “Your slender beauty certainly belies your strength, princess.”
Lynnlita narrowed her eyes at the Force. "War cannot work his charms on Lynnlita this time," she warned him, relieved that her voice sounded far more assertive than her thoughts. "She knows exactly what is on his mind now, and she most certainly won't fall prey a second time."
“Lynnlita knew that War was coming to apologise for his brutish end behaviour during their last meeting?” War asked, allowing some curiosity into his tones. That wasn’t strictly a lie. War certainly wasn’t about to go back and not spank Lynnlita’s behind – in fact, given a second chance he might do worse – but a lady should always be allowed time to give a rebuttal to War’s general behaviour.
Sometimes he cursed himself for having that minor streak of gentleman inside him. Usually though, he only cursed it when someone compared him to Death.
"War knew exactly what he was doing at the conclusion of their last meeting," the Llayan said dangerously, brushing some stray curls from her eyes, "And one who has been around for as long as he has should know that an appology only shows its worth if it is prompt and sincere."
“War is entirely sincere,” the Force said with full-sounding honestly. He dropped his head lightly, almost in a subconscious movement of submission – almost, but not quite because he was quite aware he was doing it. “War is as he was created by the Great God, warts and all. Lynnlita is just so stunningly beautiful, War could not help but act upon his brutish lusts for a moment longer.”
Plus, War added to himself, if I hadn’t, my drinking buddy would have thought so much less of me. That can really put a damper on an evening.
The Personification pushed his longer purple hair back over his shoulder, turning himself slightly. “However, Lynnlita does not have to accept War’s apology – nor does she have any reason to. It would be best if she let War make his apology and then leave with as much pride as he can manage."
Lynnlita rested back on one heel, then gestured with one hand to effectively give him permission to appologise. She pursed her lips to show she wasn't about to be sucked in by War's charms, as much to herself as to the Force.
War bent himself at his waist, taking hold of Lynnlita’s hand before she could retract it. He brushed his lips over the back of the princess’ hand, locking his chocolate-brown eyes with hers. “War does most humbly offer his most sincere apologies at the feet of the fair princess before him,” War told her, in the lowest tone his husky voice could get to without becoming incomprehensible. “War does hope that one day perhaps it can be accepted.”
He straightened himself up, bowing his head politely and turning himself to leave the via the same way he had entered the gardens.
Lynnlita blinked as the crop of purple hair disappeared into the greenery, pulling her hand into a loose fist and holding it to her chest. She bit her bottom lip, not letting herself call him back. He was expecting that. There was too much confidence in his long stride for him not to be, but Lynnlita could resist. She'd resisted impossibly charming men before, far too cocky for their own good, why should this one be any different? Why in the Gods' names should this one be any different? She sat back down on the bench, resting her arms on the back and peering into the garden.
"Accepted," she murmured.
Authors~ Annarti and Sallie
Disclaimers~ Lynnlita and Llayad are 'narti's, War is Sallie's
Notes~ kawa~ #115. Another joint fic, cos damn they're fun, even if we're on opposite sides of the world to do them now ^^;
Lynnlita rested back on the wooden bench and fanned herself delicately. She closed her eyes and sighed, listening to the breeze as it hushed through the acacias, bringing little relief. The air even sounded warm as it blew in from the endless eastern desert. It wasn't so hot that the birds had ceased their singing, and Lynnlita focussed her hearing on their delicate tunes instead of the warm breeze.
The sweet sounds of the breeze were interrupted suddenly by the heavy crunch of gravel. The obtrusive sound almost seemed to come from nowhere, but that really couldn’t be true.
War sauntered casually through the garden, his purple hair standing out a mile even if his clothes and attitude didn’t. His thumbs were caught in the belt loops of his jeans, and he almost strutted effortlessly on his long legs, aiming towards Lynnlita. “Ah, the fair princess,” The Force smiled charmingly, effortlessly working with the strange Llayan tongue. “Lynnlita certainly is an exceptionally beautiful flower to find in this garden.”
You know what your problem is? War asked himself in a confidential tone in his mind. Your problem is that you can’t just leave anything alone. He knew that much was true, but he blamed it on the ever changing art of women. They just kept luring you in – no, actually, he was perfectly in control. Scrap that. The problem with the ever changing art of women was that you had to keep checking up and making sure they’d reacted in the way you’d expected them too.
Okay, maybe there was a little bit of a lure too. But frankly, the princess was so well endowed she probably had her own gravitational pull, which would account for that lure.
Lynnlita stiffened. She knew that voice. She knew it all too well. She'd been wondering for months how she'd react if she ever saw him again, and now that he was here, swaggering with far too much confidence towards, her, she still didn't know how to react.
She straightened abruptly and turned something that might have been a glare on the intrusive Force, if not for the fact that she wasn't entirely sure if she wanted to glare at him.
"What in... when... but..." She shook her head in frustration at her complete lack of eloquency, then gave up on words entirely and just sat there, shaking her head. This was most certainly not how she'd pictured in her head the first man to make her speechless.
War slowly raised a dark eyebrow, rubbing his chin. Already things weren’t exactly going as expected. He had been sure that he’d be slapped within the first ten seconds of sauntering in... but then again, girls loved a bad boy and posh girls loved a bit of rough trade; and War could be as bad or as rough as anyone else.
War’s boot caught the edge of the wide bench Lynnlita was sitting on, and he bent his leg, resting most of his weight there. “The princess seems quite perturbed," War commented, casually.
Lynnlita shook her head irritably. She wasn't melting at that husky voice, she wasn't. "War has certainly lived up to his name," she said finally. Amyrallyn had told her to slap him the instant she was within range. Her mother had told her to remain calm; she was a princess, after all. Her brother had told her to call for him so he could protect his dear baby sister.
Somehow though, she couldn't quite bring herself to do either of those things.
War kept his eyes politely on the princess’ face, but for all intents and purposes he was watching her very closely. Judging her expressions, watching her body language – and in the end he had concluded that Lynnlita herself didn’t know what to think about their whole prior meeting and the way it ended.
War managed not to smirk at that, smoothly continuing with his charm at full power. “War regrets that he is only a personification, and therefore must be somewhat like that he lives for.”
"Apparently so..."
...Oh let the gods live with it.
She stood up abruptly and slapped the Force sharply across his face, forcing her expression to turn to the venomous one she often wore when faced with men who were just that little bit too sure of themselves.
Now that was what War had been expecting, and some small part of him got a sense of comfort out of that. After so many years of – maybe minor - mistreatment of women’s feelings, and being friends with Pestilence, War had learnt to take his lumps when he deserved them.
Of course, he considered himself lucky that after that many years of slapping most of the nerve endings in his face were long dead. Lynnlita certainly wielded an aggressive bitch-slap.
War casually shrugged his foot back onto the floor, standing at his full height before he rubbed his chin with his hand, as if that might bring back the feeling in his cheek. He ran his tongue over his lips before he pulled them back into the charming smile again. “Your slender beauty certainly belies your strength, princess.”
Lynnlita narrowed her eyes at the Force. "War cannot work his charms on Lynnlita this time," she warned him, relieved that her voice sounded far more assertive than her thoughts. "She knows exactly what is on his mind now, and she most certainly won't fall prey a second time."
“Lynnlita knew that War was coming to apologise for his brutish end behaviour during their last meeting?” War asked, allowing some curiosity into his tones. That wasn’t strictly a lie. War certainly wasn’t about to go back and not spank Lynnlita’s behind – in fact, given a second chance he might do worse – but a lady should always be allowed time to give a rebuttal to War’s general behaviour.
Sometimes he cursed himself for having that minor streak of gentleman inside him. Usually though, he only cursed it when someone compared him to Death.
"War knew exactly what he was doing at the conclusion of their last meeting," the Llayan said dangerously, brushing some stray curls from her eyes, "And one who has been around for as long as he has should know that an appology only shows its worth if it is prompt and sincere."
“War is entirely sincere,” the Force said with full-sounding honestly. He dropped his head lightly, almost in a subconscious movement of submission – almost, but not quite because he was quite aware he was doing it. “War is as he was created by the Great God, warts and all. Lynnlita is just so stunningly beautiful, War could not help but act upon his brutish lusts for a moment longer.”
Plus, War added to himself, if I hadn’t, my drinking buddy would have thought so much less of me. That can really put a damper on an evening.
The Personification pushed his longer purple hair back over his shoulder, turning himself slightly. “However, Lynnlita does not have to accept War’s apology – nor does she have any reason to. It would be best if she let War make his apology and then leave with as much pride as he can manage."
Lynnlita rested back on one heel, then gestured with one hand to effectively give him permission to appologise. She pursed her lips to show she wasn't about to be sucked in by War's charms, as much to herself as to the Force.
War bent himself at his waist, taking hold of Lynnlita’s hand before she could retract it. He brushed his lips over the back of the princess’ hand, locking his chocolate-brown eyes with hers. “War does most humbly offer his most sincere apologies at the feet of the fair princess before him,” War told her, in the lowest tone his husky voice could get to without becoming incomprehensible. “War does hope that one day perhaps it can be accepted.”
He straightened himself up, bowing his head politely and turning himself to leave the via the same way he had entered the gardens.
Lynnlita blinked as the crop of purple hair disappeared into the greenery, pulling her hand into a loose fist and holding it to her chest. She bit her bottom lip, not letting herself call him back. He was expecting that. There was too much confidence in his long stride for him not to be, but Lynnlita could resist. She'd resisted impossibly charming men before, far too cocky for their own good, why should this one be any different? Why in the Gods' names should this one be any different? She sat back down on the bench, resting her arms on the back and peering into the garden.
"Accepted," she murmured.