(no subject)
Pineapple #30. 'Til Death Do Us Part
with Hot Fudge, Butterscotch, and Sprinkles
Story : knights & necromancers
Rating : G
Timeframe : 11-something (I've never really committed to how old Berwyk is)
Word Count : 258 (I was going for pocky, but oh well)
Just a cheap little moment to nab us another butterscotch for the challenge, but this prompt said Berwyk and Mabel to me, for reasons those of you familiar with "the thing in the attic" will understand.
Berwyk was shoving beakers from side to side along the counter, rehearsing words in his head. At the third time he opened his mouth to speak and shut it without a sound, Mabel fixed him a look over the bubbling bowl of green in front of her.
He sniffed and made a show of concentrating on the mixing of three of the potions he‘d been juggling. “You know,” he said, his voice cracking as he tried to force it to stay light. “We’ve been at this awhile now. And I’ve been thinking.” She cocked her head, as if a new angle would pry some further meaning out of him, and under that blue-eyed stare, Berwyk hastily shoved the beakers aside with shaking hands. “Well…if I’m going to live forever, I don’t want to do it without you.” It all came out in a rush, not like it had sounded in his head at all, and suddenly he was feeling sort of light and tingly.
Mabel hadn’t gotten it. She was still staring. Gods, she was beautiful, even if she did have all the social savvy that...well, that he did. “So, what?” she said slowly, and he could feel all the blood rushing back to his head. “You’re offering to share the spoils of your research?”
“Don’t be daft, woman! You know that’s always been the plan.” His shaking hands were now searching the depths of his pockets, and her jaw fell as he came up with a ring. “No, I’m trying to ask you to marry me.”
with Hot Fudge, Butterscotch, and Sprinkles
Story : knights & necromancers
Rating : G
Timeframe : 11-something (I've never really committed to how old Berwyk is)
Word Count : 258 (I was going for pocky, but oh well)
Just a cheap little moment to nab us another butterscotch for the challenge, but this prompt said Berwyk and Mabel to me, for reasons those of you familiar with "the thing in the attic" will understand.
Berwyk was shoving beakers from side to side along the counter, rehearsing words in his head. At the third time he opened his mouth to speak and shut it without a sound, Mabel fixed him a look over the bubbling bowl of green in front of her.
He sniffed and made a show of concentrating on the mixing of three of the potions he‘d been juggling. “You know,” he said, his voice cracking as he tried to force it to stay light. “We’ve been at this awhile now. And I’ve been thinking.” She cocked her head, as if a new angle would pry some further meaning out of him, and under that blue-eyed stare, Berwyk hastily shoved the beakers aside with shaking hands. “Well…if I’m going to live forever, I don’t want to do it without you.” It all came out in a rush, not like it had sounded in his head at all, and suddenly he was feeling sort of light and tingly.
Mabel hadn’t gotten it. She was still staring. Gods, she was beautiful, even if she did have all the social savvy that...well, that he did. “So, what?” she said slowly, and he could feel all the blood rushing back to his head. “You’re offering to share the spoils of your research?”
“Don’t be daft, woman! You know that’s always been the plan.” His shaking hands were now searching the depths of his pockets, and her jaw fell as he came up with a ring. “No, I’m trying to ask you to marry me.”