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Pumpkin Pie #2. Witchcraft and Soy #12. 風の便り with Malt
Story : knights & necromancers
Rating : PG
Timeframe : 1269
Word Count : 884
Malt Prompt : Summer '11 : #128: Would you like to lecture me on the wickedness of my ways? - Firefly (Inara)
My Treat (Falootin) : 風の便り kaze no tayori / message carried on the wind (rumor) - Fortunately, Lyssa doesn't give a damn about her bad reputation
I think Mel has only made a handful of appearances. But I have a plotty use for him now, waaaay down the road! Anyway, he and Lyssa work together on and off in her mercenary days, and this is their first meeting, because something in me just refused to make this a necromancy prompt. 2 for 2 so far on pumpkin pie! Woo!
Lyssa tried not to pay any notice when the hairy mountain of a man, garbed in the familiar assortment of mismatched plate and leather, settled on the stool beside hers. She’d heard he was big, but words couldn’t suffice the size of this fellow, and it seemed no one had thought to tell her he wasn’t familiar with the concept of grooming. That might have been a helpful tip for spotting him. She set her attention on gulping down the last of her beer and hoped another not quite so large fellow, who had heard of a comb and of soap, would be headed her way shortly. When the man turned to look her over instead of hailing for a drink, it didn’t seem likely.
“Well,” he said, with a mouth all but lost behind a thick mass of beard. “If it isn’t the infamous Lyssa Burnoire.”
Lyssa set down her empty mug and gave him a smirk. “Well, if isn’t my newest liability, I’m sorry, partner.”
He laughed at that and extended a hand half the size of her head. “Mel.”
“Mel,” she repeated, gingerly shaking the offered hand.
He leaned one thick elbow on the bar and cocked his head at her. “I suppose this is the part where I ask you what some prissy noble girl is doing among dregs like us and how you expect to hold your own among real fighters.”
“Sounds about right,” she said, eyeing her mug and contemplating calling for another.
“And then comes the part where you inform me you could kick my ass.”
Lyssa wondered if a battering ram would be enough to take him down. “I could,” she said anyway.
“So I’ve heard,” said Mel, and something in his tone told her he actually meant it. “You’re a terror on and off the battlefield. So let’s skip it and cut to the part where I get you a beer instead.”
“Now you’re talking!” Mel gave Otto a wave, tossed some coins on the bar, and in a moment there was a pair of frothy mugs in front of them. “Like you better than the last one already,” she said, scooping hers up.
“That’s not all I’ve heard.”
Lyssa laid her mug back on the bar and swiped a hand across her mouth. “Oh?”
“They say you’re hard headed.”
“Mmm.” No need to worry, she retrieved her drink.
“Insubordinate.”
“Yeah.”
“Prone to outbursts,” she shrugged and sipped her beer, “violence,” nodded, “random destruction.”
“What of it?”
“That you’re a drunk.”
Lyssa laughed. “Who doesn’t like a beer now and then? Or two.”
“That you can’t keep your legs shut.”
She put her drink down again, afraid it would soon be coming out of her nose. “Well, of course you’ve heard that,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I go to great pains to spread that rumor myself.” He was staring, dead serious as far as she could tell, though it was hard to judge what was going on under all that fur. “Don’t think it means you’re getting anywhere with me. Not into behemoths or whatever it is you are.”
There was a twitch in his beard that she took for a smile, but then he lowered his voice to solemnly add, “I also hear the Knighthood threw you out for getting your ass handed to you at Kalas nine years ago and that’s why you’re really here.”
“Hmph. Nosy bastard, aren’t you?”
“It’s not like it’s hard to find dirt on you.” Mel finally raised his drink to his lips. The hefty tankard looked like a child’s teacup in his hand.
“I watch your back, you watch mine. I can fight; that’s what matters. And, well, hell I bet you don’t even need a weapon, you just step on things or something.”
“I like to know upfront just how many things I’m going to need to step on. Seems like a lot with you.”
“I can hold my own.” She took a drink and tried not to think too hard about him actually stepping on anyone. “So, have you heard I’m a witch?”
“You’re what?”
“Put down your drink.”
Mel set it on the counter and looked expectantly from the beer to Lyssa and back. He nearly jumped when a burst of flame leapt out of the glass.
“See?” said Lyssa, grinning at him over the rim of her own drink as the fire subsided just as quickly as it had come. “That’s why they threw me out of the army.”
“Nice trick. Where are the matches?”
“No matches,” she said, passing her cup from hand to hand to wiggle her fingers at him as evidence, “just magic.”
“Of course,” he said. “So this is why they’re putting us together, my size and your speed.”
Lyssa snorted. “Or maybe just that no one else will tolerate either one of us.” She gave her empty mug frown and set it down to fish in her pockets and wave Otto over for a refill.
“You’re having another?” said Mel.
Lyssa shrugged and slapped her coins on the counter. “I am a drunk, after all. Buy you another one too, since yours is pretty much useless now.”
Mel sniffed at his drink, shrugged, and downed it in one gulp. “I don’t suppose I’ll be objecting to that.”
CANDY FOR ALL
Story : knights & necromancers
Rating : PG
Timeframe : 1269
Word Count : 884
Malt Prompt : Summer '11 : #128: Would you like to lecture me on the wickedness of my ways? - Firefly (Inara)
My Treat (Falootin) : 風の便り kaze no tayori / message carried on the wind (rumor) - Fortunately, Lyssa doesn't give a damn about her bad reputation
I think Mel has only made a handful of appearances. But I have a plotty use for him now, waaaay down the road! Anyway, he and Lyssa work together on and off in her mercenary days, and this is their first meeting, because something in me just refused to make this a necromancy prompt. 2 for 2 so far on pumpkin pie! Woo!
Lyssa tried not to pay any notice when the hairy mountain of a man, garbed in the familiar assortment of mismatched plate and leather, settled on the stool beside hers. She’d heard he was big, but words couldn’t suffice the size of this fellow, and it seemed no one had thought to tell her he wasn’t familiar with the concept of grooming. That might have been a helpful tip for spotting him. She set her attention on gulping down the last of her beer and hoped another not quite so large fellow, who had heard of a comb and of soap, would be headed her way shortly. When the man turned to look her over instead of hailing for a drink, it didn’t seem likely.
“Well,” he said, with a mouth all but lost behind a thick mass of beard. “If it isn’t the infamous Lyssa Burnoire.”
Lyssa set down her empty mug and gave him a smirk. “Well, if isn’t my newest liability, I’m sorry, partner.”
He laughed at that and extended a hand half the size of her head. “Mel.”
“Mel,” she repeated, gingerly shaking the offered hand.
He leaned one thick elbow on the bar and cocked his head at her. “I suppose this is the part where I ask you what some prissy noble girl is doing among dregs like us and how you expect to hold your own among real fighters.”
“Sounds about right,” she said, eyeing her mug and contemplating calling for another.
“And then comes the part where you inform me you could kick my ass.”
Lyssa wondered if a battering ram would be enough to take him down. “I could,” she said anyway.
“So I’ve heard,” said Mel, and something in his tone told her he actually meant it. “You’re a terror on and off the battlefield. So let’s skip it and cut to the part where I get you a beer instead.”
“Now you’re talking!” Mel gave Otto a wave, tossed some coins on the bar, and in a moment there was a pair of frothy mugs in front of them. “Like you better than the last one already,” she said, scooping hers up.
“That’s not all I’ve heard.”
Lyssa laid her mug back on the bar and swiped a hand across her mouth. “Oh?”
“They say you’re hard headed.”
“Mmm.” No need to worry, she retrieved her drink.
“Insubordinate.”
“Yeah.”
“Prone to outbursts,” she shrugged and sipped her beer, “violence,” nodded, “random destruction.”
“What of it?”
“That you’re a drunk.”
Lyssa laughed. “Who doesn’t like a beer now and then? Or two.”
“That you can’t keep your legs shut.”
She put her drink down again, afraid it would soon be coming out of her nose. “Well, of course you’ve heard that,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I go to great pains to spread that rumor myself.” He was staring, dead serious as far as she could tell, though it was hard to judge what was going on under all that fur. “Don’t think it means you’re getting anywhere with me. Not into behemoths or whatever it is you are.”
There was a twitch in his beard that she took for a smile, but then he lowered his voice to solemnly add, “I also hear the Knighthood threw you out for getting your ass handed to you at Kalas nine years ago and that’s why you’re really here.”
“Hmph. Nosy bastard, aren’t you?”
“It’s not like it’s hard to find dirt on you.” Mel finally raised his drink to his lips. The hefty tankard looked like a child’s teacup in his hand.
“I watch your back, you watch mine. I can fight; that’s what matters. And, well, hell I bet you don’t even need a weapon, you just step on things or something.”
“I like to know upfront just how many things I’m going to need to step on. Seems like a lot with you.”
“I can hold my own.” She took a drink and tried not to think too hard about him actually stepping on anyone. “So, have you heard I’m a witch?”
“You’re what?”
“Put down your drink.”
Mel set it on the counter and looked expectantly from the beer to Lyssa and back. He nearly jumped when a burst of flame leapt out of the glass.
“See?” said Lyssa, grinning at him over the rim of her own drink as the fire subsided just as quickly as it had come. “That’s why they threw me out of the army.”
“Nice trick. Where are the matches?”
“No matches,” she said, passing her cup from hand to hand to wiggle her fingers at him as evidence, “just magic.”
“Of course,” he said. “So this is why they’re putting us together, my size and your speed.”
Lyssa snorted. “Or maybe just that no one else will tolerate either one of us.” She gave her empty mug frown and set it down to fish in her pockets and wave Otto over for a refill.
“You’re having another?” said Mel.
Lyssa shrugged and slapped her coins on the counter. “I am a drunk, after all. Buy you another one too, since yours is pretty much useless now.”
Mel sniffed at his drink, shrugged, and downed it in one gulp. “I don’t suppose I’ll be objecting to that.”
CANDY FOR ALL