Summer fic challenge 2015, part 1.
Aug. 30th, 2015 02:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
merikuru posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
volieredeatoriYep. I'm doing that thar fic challenge again.
I swear, every time I want to write something short, it rebels against me.
In the lantern-light, bloodied scalemail shines a brilliant red.
It is something Aymeric doubts he will soon get used to, as he traces his fingers along the stained breastplate and thinks on how this came to be. The fulfillment of a long-held wish, of a never-fading desire for revenge - and yet in the end, that wish rang hollow and empty, that revenge unsatisfying, leaving nothing but its indelible mark as a reward. It brings him a strange sort of sorrow, one he fails to understand; it was not his battle, not his quest, and yet...
He supposes he may never understand it, but he despairs. They despair.
Suddenly he is no longer able to stand the sight of that tainted symbol of pride, and his fingers hold a raw desperation as he begins plucking at buckles and latches; his actions elicit first surprise, but then a quiet understanding, and hands at the moment more skilled join his in casting the bloodstained armour aside. Between the two of them, every last bit is quickly removed, and it is only when he stills that Aymeric realises he is panting, having been so fervent in his actions as to render himself breathless. How deplorable, he finds himself thinking - how unfitting, how unsuitable - why does he allow it to affect him so?
A hand cups his cheek, draws him closer, and he lets himself close his eyes and simply lean into the contact, the soothing warmth against him washing away some of the strange anguish. It is funny in its way, how easily just this one simple thing can put him in a clearer state of mind-- "Estinien...my apologies," he murmurs abruptly before he even knows he is going to speak, opening his eyes, looking upwards to meet a gaze that is concerned as expected. "I know not what came over me. Pray forgive me."
"You have nothing to apologise for." A simple statement, but so full of strength - the dragoon is not often one to waste words, and he does not deviate from that now. "Nor to ask forgiveness for. But I shall forgive you anyway, lest you become inconsolable."
Aymeric reddens with a brief surge of indignance, but he is glad for the flare of heat that erases still more of his melancholy. "Do you truly think I would?"
"Perhaps - perhaps not." Estinien shows teeth in a sharp grin, his thumb brushing gently over the patch of colour on Aymeric's cheek. "Or perhaps I simply want to infuriate you, because I have ever so much fun making up for it."
A sharp sigh escapes him, underscored with a hint of a laugh, and Aymeric closes his eyes again, leaning into the touch. "I ought not be surprised at anything you do, and yet..."
Estinien barks a laugh of his own, and then he is moving, sweeping Aymeric up into his arms with a strength his lean form would never suggest. "Then allow me to surprise you more."
"How can I refuse an offer like that?" Embarrassment turns Aymeric's smile sardonic; he finds he cannot meet Estinien's eyes. "No, you would not let me refuse..."
"How observant of you," Estinien responds drily, then silences him with a kiss.
Discarded armour, now forgotten, still gleams in the lantern-light, a chilling ruby red.
I swear, every time I want to write something short, it rebels against me.
In the lantern-light, bloodied scalemail shines a brilliant red.
It is something Aymeric doubts he will soon get used to, as he traces his fingers along the stained breastplate and thinks on how this came to be. The fulfillment of a long-held wish, of a never-fading desire for revenge - and yet in the end, that wish rang hollow and empty, that revenge unsatisfying, leaving nothing but its indelible mark as a reward. It brings him a strange sort of sorrow, one he fails to understand; it was not his battle, not his quest, and yet...
He supposes he may never understand it, but he despairs. They despair.
Suddenly he is no longer able to stand the sight of that tainted symbol of pride, and his fingers hold a raw desperation as he begins plucking at buckles and latches; his actions elicit first surprise, but then a quiet understanding, and hands at the moment more skilled join his in casting the bloodstained armour aside. Between the two of them, every last bit is quickly removed, and it is only when he stills that Aymeric realises he is panting, having been so fervent in his actions as to render himself breathless. How deplorable, he finds himself thinking - how unfitting, how unsuitable - why does he allow it to affect him so?
A hand cups his cheek, draws him closer, and he lets himself close his eyes and simply lean into the contact, the soothing warmth against him washing away some of the strange anguish. It is funny in its way, how easily just this one simple thing can put him in a clearer state of mind-- "Estinien...my apologies," he murmurs abruptly before he even knows he is going to speak, opening his eyes, looking upwards to meet a gaze that is concerned as expected. "I know not what came over me. Pray forgive me."
"You have nothing to apologise for." A simple statement, but so full of strength - the dragoon is not often one to waste words, and he does not deviate from that now. "Nor to ask forgiveness for. But I shall forgive you anyway, lest you become inconsolable."
Aymeric reddens with a brief surge of indignance, but he is glad for the flare of heat that erases still more of his melancholy. "Do you truly think I would?"
"Perhaps - perhaps not." Estinien shows teeth in a sharp grin, his thumb brushing gently over the patch of colour on Aymeric's cheek. "Or perhaps I simply want to infuriate you, because I have ever so much fun making up for it."
A sharp sigh escapes him, underscored with a hint of a laugh, and Aymeric closes his eyes again, leaning into the touch. "I ought not be surprised at anything you do, and yet..."
Estinien barks a laugh of his own, and then he is moving, sweeping Aymeric up into his arms with a strength his lean form would never suggest. "Then allow me to surprise you more."
"How can I refuse an offer like that?" Embarrassment turns Aymeric's smile sardonic; he finds he cannot meet Estinien's eyes. "No, you would not let me refuse..."
"How observant of you," Estinien responds drily, then silences him with a kiss.
Discarded armour, now forgotten, still gleams in the lantern-light, a chilling ruby red.
