(no subject)
Author: wolfraven80
Title: Moments
Fandom: Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Character: Eirika (Seth/Eirika)
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Seth/Eirika Modern-Day AU (Takes place after events of Seven but works just fine as a stand-alone)
Link to Table
Also on ffnet here
Day Twenty-Two: Clothes
I can hardly believe it’s already Thursday night. Tomorrow morning I’ll be leaving for France. With the time difference, it’ll already be evening there when I arrive.
My suitcase lies open on the bed. Seth is also stretched out on the bed, watching me as I go back and forth between my walk-in closet and the suitcase. He’s so quiet, and the look on his face is so serious, that I know he’s nervous about my trip, even though he won’t admit it. Logically I know- we both know- that there’s nothing to worry about, that I don’t need protection at every instant, but after everything that’s happened and everything that’s been happening, logic isn’t as reassuring as it once was. But it’s nice to know that Seth worries too, that I’m not the only one affected by what happened last year and by the knowledge of what may be going on now.
"I’ll call as soon as I get there," I tell him as I fold a pair of slacks and place them in my suitcase. He only nods. "I’ll have to take a train out of Paris to L’Arachel’s."
L’Arachel may run a business of her own, but she’s the sole heir to Rausten Co. A meeting with her is the perfect subterfuge. It’s only normal that I meet with my wedding planner after all; there’s no reason to believe what we’ll really be discussing is the company’s ties with Carcino Ltd.
"And I had to reschedule the meeting with the lawyers to the twenty-sixth." A grunt this time. Neither of us is looking forward to that meeting. The prenup.
I can feel Seth’s eyes on me as I walk into the closet again to pick out a few blouses. "I’ll have to see some other people while I’m there, just to make sure it looks like a regular trip." He already knows all this, but I feel the need to fill the silence. Why won’t he just say something? Would it be so hard to admit that he’s worried, that he’s fretting about my trip? "I’ll be back in a week," I continue, emerging with my chosen blouses. "And then we’ll celebrate your birthday."
"Nothing too extravagant, I trust."
I stop and look up. "Oh. Should I cancel the fireworks then?" I wink. He smiles.
After a few more minutes my suitcase is packed and I set it down in the corner. "Are you done now?" Seth asks.
"I just need to get a few more things."
"You are only going for a week?" he asks, incredulity plain on his features.
I sniff. "Clothes are not optional."
It takes me another ten minutes to gather the other things I'll need. After that’s done I’m finished. "All right," I tell him. "I’m all yours now."
He springs off the bed and crosses the room to kiss me. He surprises me when he scoops me up and carries me to the bed, pausing to turn down the covers with one hand, before setting me down. He kisses me- and nothing else- until we’re both breathless. The way he’d been watching me, I’d expected ardour and urgency, not this delightful languor and gallantry.
He kisses me as if we have all the time world, as if we don’t need to rise before the crack of dawn, as if we would never be parted. He begins unbuttoning my blouse with practiced ease and I wonder if he can feel my heart racing beneath his hands. His fingers move to rake through my hair, trail down my cheek, my throat. And then, more intimate caresses.
I’ve changed my mind. Who needs clothes?
Also on ffnet here
Day Twenty-One: France
It’s been years since I’ve been in France. I studied the language for a while in my teens and dad took us on vacation sometimes in the summer. I only wish I could come here with Seth, though I’m not sure he’d appreciate it in quite the same way; he’d probably be more interested in touring World War I sites than enjoying the romance of Paris.
It really shouldn’t take long to get from the airport to the train station, but somehow we’ve managed to get stuck in traffic. You’d think I was back home in New York.
"It looks like the road is blocked, Madame," my driver announces finally.
"Never mind. I’ll walk the rest of the way. It’s not that far."
I have to assure him that I’ll be fine and finally he helps me get my things out of the trunk and I begin making my way through the city streets, wheeling my suitcase behind me, my carry-on bags, hooked around the handle. It's difficult to resist the urge to stop and admire the gorgeous old buildings.
Though the driver game me directions, it’s not long before I get turned around and need to ask someone. I hail a gentleman who looks like he knows where he’s headed. "Pardon, monsieur. Pourriez-vous me dire comment me rendre à la guerre?"
He stops and glowers at me before turning on his heel and mumbling something about American tourists. I’m puzzled. I used the second person plural in order to be polite, so I can’t imagine why he’d be offended...
"Madame," I begin trying again, "saviez-vous où est la guerre?"
She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind and hurriedly crosses the street.
I keep walking for another minute or so before I get up the nerve to try for a third time. "Excusez-moi, monsieur," I say, hailing a middle-aged man in a handsome suit, "pourriez-vous me dire comment me rendre à la guerre."
He raises an eyebrow and stares at me. "La guerre? Mademoiselle, you speak English?"
"Yes. Yes I do. I’m trying to find the train station, but no one seems to be able to help me."
At this he laughs and quickly tries to cover by coughing. "I am sorry," he says. "I understand now. You are looking for ‘la gare’."
I feel as if all the blood in my body is running into my cheeks. If ‘gare’ is ‘train station’ then ‘guerre’ must be... "Yes, thank you," I squeak as I realize I’ve been walking around Paris asking people if they know where I can find the war.
As I note his directions and then begin making my way towards the station, I decide that Ephraim must never, ever hear of this.
Also on ffnet here
Day Twenty: Apart
From Paris I took one of the high speed trains to the town where L’Arachel’s family estate is nestled in a patch of woods planted by her forebears to keep the chateau private. As it so happened, L’Arachel was delayed in Amsterdam and won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon. In any case, by the time I got settled in, it was eleven and even though my body believed it to be six p.m., I was ready for a nap at the very least. I called Seth’s cell and got his voicemail. I had meant to call back later but after that, my nap turned into an entire night’s sleep.
And now, ever since this morning, I’ve been restless. I’ve spent these idle hours just waiting to call him, to hear his voice. I feel like an addict waiting for a hit, waiting for that high, that euphoria I feel when I'm with him.
He gets up early, but there’s not much point in calling when he’s off jogging or in the shower or at the grocery store, or whatever he plans to do this Saturday. So waiting until lunchtime seems safest... which for me, five hours ahead, means evening. L’Arachel still isn’t back, and it’s puzzling, but as the digital display on my cell’s clock reforms itself into 5:00, I press the speed dial and wait, barely breathing, for Seth to pick up. Oh please, please answer this time!
"Eirika?"
"Seth!"
"I’m sorry I missed your call- I was in the shower."
"I wanted to call back but I fell asleep."
"You needed your rest," he says and the warmth in his voice makes my chest clench. I want to reach out across the ocean and hold him close to me. Instead, I just listen to the sound of his breathing over the phoneline.
"I miss you," I say finally.
"I miss you too. How was your day?"
"Dull," I reply, sitting down on the bed and propping up a pillow behind me. "L’Arachel’s not back yet so I don’t have any news."
"I see."
"What about you? Did they take your stitches out?"
"Yes, yesterday. I’m as good as new."
"Good. I’m glad. So what are you doing today?"
"I thought I’d finish packing my books."
I groan. "I’d almost forgotten." We still haven’t brought over the rest of his things. There’s still time, though- two weeks before the lease runs out. Our plans were really thrown by Seth’s accident and I’ve been distracted by the problems with Carcino. "What about the carpenters?"
"They’ll be in tomorrow to finish the book cases." He’ll have custom-made shelving around his office. It’ll be very handsome even if he does have a desk that came out of a cardboard box. "Oh and we received three more RSVPs."
"From who?"
Seth clears his throat. "I haven’t opened them." I have to stifle a laugh. I can just see him raking his fingers through his hair as he says it. Poor dear.
"Don’t tell me my head of security is afraid to open his own mail."
"I’d rather not know."
"Forewarned is forearmed," I quip.
He sniffs. "Ignorance is bliss, darling."
"Mmm. I’m almost certain the bliss is supposed to come after the wedding."
A rolling sort of groan pours out of his chest and even over the phone it makes me ache for him. Leaning back against the headboard of the queen-sized bed in which I’ll be sleeping alone tonight, I sigh. "Next time I travel I need to come up with an excuse to bring my head of security along."
"I’d approve of such a plan."
I chuckle. "I thought you would." I clutch the phone instead of his hand and close my eyes to imagine him. "Seth, what are you wearing?"
"What am I... wearing?"
"Yes. You’re not naked, are you?" Though that makes a rather pleasant image as well.
"No! I- Jeans. And a shirt."
"What shirt?"
"A white T-shirt."
I smile. Yes I can see him perfectly now. "It’s sunny here."
"It’s raining here. Eirika, are you all right?"
I nod and then realize he can’t see me. "I’m fine. It’s just strange to be so far away." It’s the first time I’ve been so far since we’ve been together. "I love you," I whisper into the phone.
"I love you too." My heart swells and it’s amazing how such simple words can bridge such distance.
Title: Moments
Fandom: Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Character: Eirika (Seth/Eirika)
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Seth/Eirika Modern-Day AU (Takes place after events of Seven but works just fine as a stand-alone)
Link to Table
Also on ffnet here
Day Twenty-Two: Clothes
I can hardly believe it’s already Thursday night. Tomorrow morning I’ll be leaving for France. With the time difference, it’ll already be evening there when I arrive.
My suitcase lies open on the bed. Seth is also stretched out on the bed, watching me as I go back and forth between my walk-in closet and the suitcase. He’s so quiet, and the look on his face is so serious, that I know he’s nervous about my trip, even though he won’t admit it. Logically I know- we both know- that there’s nothing to worry about, that I don’t need protection at every instant, but after everything that’s happened and everything that’s been happening, logic isn’t as reassuring as it once was. But it’s nice to know that Seth worries too, that I’m not the only one affected by what happened last year and by the knowledge of what may be going on now.
"I’ll call as soon as I get there," I tell him as I fold a pair of slacks and place them in my suitcase. He only nods. "I’ll have to take a train out of Paris to L’Arachel’s."
L’Arachel may run a business of her own, but she’s the sole heir to Rausten Co. A meeting with her is the perfect subterfuge. It’s only normal that I meet with my wedding planner after all; there’s no reason to believe what we’ll really be discussing is the company’s ties with Carcino Ltd.
"And I had to reschedule the meeting with the lawyers to the twenty-sixth." A grunt this time. Neither of us is looking forward to that meeting. The prenup.
I can feel Seth’s eyes on me as I walk into the closet again to pick out a few blouses. "I’ll have to see some other people while I’m there, just to make sure it looks like a regular trip." He already knows all this, but I feel the need to fill the silence. Why won’t he just say something? Would it be so hard to admit that he’s worried, that he’s fretting about my trip? "I’ll be back in a week," I continue, emerging with my chosen blouses. "And then we’ll celebrate your birthday."
"Nothing too extravagant, I trust."
I stop and look up. "Oh. Should I cancel the fireworks then?" I wink. He smiles.
After a few more minutes my suitcase is packed and I set it down in the corner. "Are you done now?" Seth asks.
"I just need to get a few more things."
"You are only going for a week?" he asks, incredulity plain on his features.
I sniff. "Clothes are not optional."
It takes me another ten minutes to gather the other things I'll need. After that’s done I’m finished. "All right," I tell him. "I’m all yours now."
He springs off the bed and crosses the room to kiss me. He surprises me when he scoops me up and carries me to the bed, pausing to turn down the covers with one hand, before setting me down. He kisses me- and nothing else- until we’re both breathless. The way he’d been watching me, I’d expected ardour and urgency, not this delightful languor and gallantry.
He kisses me as if we have all the time world, as if we don’t need to rise before the crack of dawn, as if we would never be parted. He begins unbuttoning my blouse with practiced ease and I wonder if he can feel my heart racing beneath his hands. His fingers move to rake through my hair, trail down my cheek, my throat. And then, more intimate caresses.
I’ve changed my mind. Who needs clothes?
Also on ffnet here
Day Twenty-One: France
It’s been years since I’ve been in France. I studied the language for a while in my teens and dad took us on vacation sometimes in the summer. I only wish I could come here with Seth, though I’m not sure he’d appreciate it in quite the same way; he’d probably be more interested in touring World War I sites than enjoying the romance of Paris.
It really shouldn’t take long to get from the airport to the train station, but somehow we’ve managed to get stuck in traffic. You’d think I was back home in New York.
"It looks like the road is blocked, Madame," my driver announces finally.
"Never mind. I’ll walk the rest of the way. It’s not that far."
I have to assure him that I’ll be fine and finally he helps me get my things out of the trunk and I begin making my way through the city streets, wheeling my suitcase behind me, my carry-on bags, hooked around the handle. It's difficult to resist the urge to stop and admire the gorgeous old buildings.
Though the driver game me directions, it’s not long before I get turned around and need to ask someone. I hail a gentleman who looks like he knows where he’s headed. "Pardon, monsieur. Pourriez-vous me dire comment me rendre à la guerre?"
He stops and glowers at me before turning on his heel and mumbling something about American tourists. I’m puzzled. I used the second person plural in order to be polite, so I can’t imagine why he’d be offended...
"Madame," I begin trying again, "saviez-vous où est la guerre?"
She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind and hurriedly crosses the street.
I keep walking for another minute or so before I get up the nerve to try for a third time. "Excusez-moi, monsieur," I say, hailing a middle-aged man in a handsome suit, "pourriez-vous me dire comment me rendre à la guerre."
He raises an eyebrow and stares at me. "La guerre? Mademoiselle, you speak English?"
"Yes. Yes I do. I’m trying to find the train station, but no one seems to be able to help me."
At this he laughs and quickly tries to cover by coughing. "I am sorry," he says. "I understand now. You are looking for ‘la gare’."
I feel as if all the blood in my body is running into my cheeks. If ‘gare’ is ‘train station’ then ‘guerre’ must be... "Yes, thank you," I squeak as I realize I’ve been walking around Paris asking people if they know where I can find the war.
As I note his directions and then begin making my way towards the station, I decide that Ephraim must never, ever hear of this.
Also on ffnet here
Day Twenty: Apart
From Paris I took one of the high speed trains to the town where L’Arachel’s family estate is nestled in a patch of woods planted by her forebears to keep the chateau private. As it so happened, L’Arachel was delayed in Amsterdam and won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon. In any case, by the time I got settled in, it was eleven and even though my body believed it to be six p.m., I was ready for a nap at the very least. I called Seth’s cell and got his voicemail. I had meant to call back later but after that, my nap turned into an entire night’s sleep.
And now, ever since this morning, I’ve been restless. I’ve spent these idle hours just waiting to call him, to hear his voice. I feel like an addict waiting for a hit, waiting for that high, that euphoria I feel when I'm with him.
He gets up early, but there’s not much point in calling when he’s off jogging or in the shower or at the grocery store, or whatever he plans to do this Saturday. So waiting until lunchtime seems safest... which for me, five hours ahead, means evening. L’Arachel still isn’t back, and it’s puzzling, but as the digital display on my cell’s clock reforms itself into 5:00, I press the speed dial and wait, barely breathing, for Seth to pick up. Oh please, please answer this time!
"Eirika?"
"Seth!"
"I’m sorry I missed your call- I was in the shower."
"I wanted to call back but I fell asleep."
"You needed your rest," he says and the warmth in his voice makes my chest clench. I want to reach out across the ocean and hold him close to me. Instead, I just listen to the sound of his breathing over the phoneline.
"I miss you," I say finally.
"I miss you too. How was your day?"
"Dull," I reply, sitting down on the bed and propping up a pillow behind me. "L’Arachel’s not back yet so I don’t have any news."
"I see."
"What about you? Did they take your stitches out?"
"Yes, yesterday. I’m as good as new."
"Good. I’m glad. So what are you doing today?"
"I thought I’d finish packing my books."
I groan. "I’d almost forgotten." We still haven’t brought over the rest of his things. There’s still time, though- two weeks before the lease runs out. Our plans were really thrown by Seth’s accident and I’ve been distracted by the problems with Carcino. "What about the carpenters?"
"They’ll be in tomorrow to finish the book cases." He’ll have custom-made shelving around his office. It’ll be very handsome even if he does have a desk that came out of a cardboard box. "Oh and we received three more RSVPs."
"From who?"
Seth clears his throat. "I haven’t opened them." I have to stifle a laugh. I can just see him raking his fingers through his hair as he says it. Poor dear.
"Don’t tell me my head of security is afraid to open his own mail."
"I’d rather not know."
"Forewarned is forearmed," I quip.
He sniffs. "Ignorance is bliss, darling."
"Mmm. I’m almost certain the bliss is supposed to come after the wedding."
A rolling sort of groan pours out of his chest and even over the phone it makes me ache for him. Leaning back against the headboard of the queen-sized bed in which I’ll be sleeping alone tonight, I sigh. "Next time I travel I need to come up with an excuse to bring my head of security along."
"I’d approve of such a plan."
I chuckle. "I thought you would." I clutch the phone instead of his hand and close my eyes to imagine him. "Seth, what are you wearing?"
"What am I... wearing?"
"Yes. You’re not naked, are you?" Though that makes a rather pleasant image as well.
"No! I- Jeans. And a shirt."
"What shirt?"
"A white T-shirt."
I smile. Yes I can see him perfectly now. "It’s sunny here."
"It’s raining here. Eirika, are you all right?"
I nod and then realize he can’t see me. "I’m fine. It’s just strange to be so far away." It’s the first time I’ve been so far since we’ve been together. "I love you," I whisper into the phone.
"I love you too." My heart swells and it’s amazing how such simple words can bridge such distance.