pistachio with hot fudge and fresh peaches
Story: Timeless { backstory | index }
Title: Snipes
Rating: PG
Challenge: Pistachio #11: an argument
Toppings/Extras: hot fudge, fresh peaches
Wordcount: 910
Summary: Adele Merritt decides that there is never a time too inappropriate to make jibes at an ex-lover.
Notes: The word ‘argument’ does not justify what life on board the Kraken was like during the period of time Adele and Isaac were ‘broken up’. Also, the weird and wonderful world of Adele’s head. Where does this stuff come from? Peaches: Romantically, a Moon-Neptune aspect before a void-of-course Moon advises against starting anything new. Neptune plays the role of grand deceiver in this moonlight.
Jacob Graham stood at the stern of the Kraken, hands wrapped around the banister, head tilted slightly to one side as he watched a pirate vessel called Henrietta slip beneath the steel-coloured waves. There was a faint creak from its metal sides but nothing more; the pirate captain drooped in disappointment. He had been promised explosions.
“Well, that was anticlimactic,” he muttered.
To one side of him stood Isaac Prowse-and to his side was Adele Merritt.
A smirk tweaking at her lips, she turned her sharp-boned face towards Isaac slightly and spoke in a soft, low drawl-
“You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Prowse?”
Isaac stared while Jacob quite calmly placed his hand in front of his mouth.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m only saying…”
There were a lot of things he could have-and possibly should have-said to that in terms of professionalism and common courtesy. And maturity. That’s right, he probably should have told her to grow up and stop acting like an irritating, jealous, snide adolescent just because she got, quite frankly, dumped. However, his pride couldn’t let a below-the-belt jibe like that slide by and she knew it…
“Funny,” he responded, “it didn’t really seem like it at the time.”
“Fake,” Adele said in a voice so airy it was practically a yawn. “Every time.”
“So it was so bad you decided to come sneaking into my room every single night. That makes perfect sense.”
“What can I say? It was entertaining.”
“Miss Merritt, you are, if I may say so, no spring chicken,” he replied. She could see the diehard chivalry that resided in his era-conditioned mind struggling and quailing but it collided with his immense frustration with her. He was sick of being polite.
Adele’s mouth dropped open a moment. When it snapped shut again, it was in a grim line, the dark lipstick taut.
“You are not in a good position to make comments about age, Prowse,” she said, turning to face him. He was facing her too, bearing down on her, their equal glares clashing with fiery sparks that only they could see. Or maybe it was just her…
“And you’re in no position to be talking like this, given your utter professionalism… but wait,” they were somehow closer together without even realising it, “never mind. Your attempts at being professional went out of the window the second you cornered me in the pantry!”
“Speaking of positions,” Adele snarled, “isn’t it funny how big, mean Mr Prowse was always the one on bottom-?”
At this point, Jacob Graham gave a cry as though he had been stabbed ruthlessly. The sparring ex-lovers spun to face him, having completely forgotten about his presence. His hands had moved position to cover his bejewelled ears.
“There are some things no man needs to hear!” he wailed in pure anguish.
Adele realised only then that her heart had been pounding for the whole of the session; that strange flips and flops were fighting for dominance in her abdomen and that her skin was awash with tides of twinkling prickles of heat. She turned away from Isaac Prowse the same moment he turned away from her, feeling as she did so the tug of her heart towards him.
Since their excruciatingly public split, Prowse had been nothing more than horribly polite to her, in a faintly standoffish sort of way. He was probably trying to make it easy on her-in truth, however, his coldness hurt more than any amount of dazzling, heated arguments ever could. As lovers they had been sensual, passionate. It couldn’t die. She wouldn’t let it.
Unable to resist, her gaze stole across the deck and she felt an instant stab in her chest when her eyes met those of Isaac. Somehow, when her mind sent out the signals to quickly look away, her eyes refused and stubbornly remained there, stuck as though time did not exist, jammed and motionless.
The look Isaac shot her was deadly. He didn’t look hateful, more… revolted. Her wretched behaviour had sunk her to a new low in his eyes.
Somehow, that only strengthened Adele’s compulsion to snipe and rage and sneer at him. A disgusted look was better than no look at all. Adele’s suede-blue eyes followed her ex-lover’s figure through the half-light of dusk as he walked away and down the steps to the main deck. Over him hung the horizon, a glimmering and iridescent curve, and Adele realised she hadn’t felt seasick in a while.
I love you, she thought. See you soon.
This was too much.
“Oh, God, what’s wrong with me?”
Jacob Graham shrugged and she turned to face him, wondering why he kept popping into existence around her. She only had eyes for Isaac now, like she always had.
“Darlin’,” he said, “there are no words.”
He’d always given her the impression of an inarticulate livewire, but right then the simple perspicuity of his words made her want to cry. He didn’t understand-not even close-but goddamn it, she was in real trouble if the only person who seemed to even have the smallest clue about what was going on in her mind was a man whose main concern in life seemed to be alcohol and petty theft.
She’d always known that she was not, as such, a people person. But this? This was an entirely new level of failure when concerning relationships.
It probably wasn’t normal to enjoy it, even if it was just a little.
Title: Snipes
Rating: PG
Challenge: Pistachio #11: an argument
Toppings/Extras: hot fudge, fresh peaches
Wordcount: 910
Summary: Adele Merritt decides that there is never a time too inappropriate to make jibes at an ex-lover.
Notes: The word ‘argument’ does not justify what life on board the Kraken was like during the period of time Adele and Isaac were ‘broken up’. Also, the weird and wonderful world of Adele’s head. Where does this stuff come from? Peaches: Romantically, a Moon-Neptune aspect before a void-of-course Moon advises against starting anything new. Neptune plays the role of grand deceiver in this moonlight.
Jacob Graham stood at the stern of the Kraken, hands wrapped around the banister, head tilted slightly to one side as he watched a pirate vessel called Henrietta slip beneath the steel-coloured waves. There was a faint creak from its metal sides but nothing more; the pirate captain drooped in disappointment. He had been promised explosions.
“Well, that was anticlimactic,” he muttered.
To one side of him stood Isaac Prowse-and to his side was Adele Merritt.
A smirk tweaking at her lips, she turned her sharp-boned face towards Isaac slightly and spoke in a soft, low drawl-
“You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Prowse?”
Isaac stared while Jacob quite calmly placed his hand in front of his mouth.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m only saying…”
There were a lot of things he could have-and possibly should have-said to that in terms of professionalism and common courtesy. And maturity. That’s right, he probably should have told her to grow up and stop acting like an irritating, jealous, snide adolescent just because she got, quite frankly, dumped. However, his pride couldn’t let a below-the-belt jibe like that slide by and she knew it…
“Funny,” he responded, “it didn’t really seem like it at the time.”
“Fake,” Adele said in a voice so airy it was practically a yawn. “Every time.”
“So it was so bad you decided to come sneaking into my room every single night. That makes perfect sense.”
“What can I say? It was entertaining.”
“Miss Merritt, you are, if I may say so, no spring chicken,” he replied. She could see the diehard chivalry that resided in his era-conditioned mind struggling and quailing but it collided with his immense frustration with her. He was sick of being polite.
Adele’s mouth dropped open a moment. When it snapped shut again, it was in a grim line, the dark lipstick taut.
“You are not in a good position to make comments about age, Prowse,” she said, turning to face him. He was facing her too, bearing down on her, their equal glares clashing with fiery sparks that only they could see. Or maybe it was just her…
“And you’re in no position to be talking like this, given your utter professionalism… but wait,” they were somehow closer together without even realising it, “never mind. Your attempts at being professional went out of the window the second you cornered me in the pantry!”
“Speaking of positions,” Adele snarled, “isn’t it funny how big, mean Mr Prowse was always the one on bottom-?”
At this point, Jacob Graham gave a cry as though he had been stabbed ruthlessly. The sparring ex-lovers spun to face him, having completely forgotten about his presence. His hands had moved position to cover his bejewelled ears.
“There are some things no man needs to hear!” he wailed in pure anguish.
Adele realised only then that her heart had been pounding for the whole of the session; that strange flips and flops were fighting for dominance in her abdomen and that her skin was awash with tides of twinkling prickles of heat. She turned away from Isaac Prowse the same moment he turned away from her, feeling as she did so the tug of her heart towards him.
Since their excruciatingly public split, Prowse had been nothing more than horribly polite to her, in a faintly standoffish sort of way. He was probably trying to make it easy on her-in truth, however, his coldness hurt more than any amount of dazzling, heated arguments ever could. As lovers they had been sensual, passionate. It couldn’t die. She wouldn’t let it.
Unable to resist, her gaze stole across the deck and she felt an instant stab in her chest when her eyes met those of Isaac. Somehow, when her mind sent out the signals to quickly look away, her eyes refused and stubbornly remained there, stuck as though time did not exist, jammed and motionless.
The look Isaac shot her was deadly. He didn’t look hateful, more… revolted. Her wretched behaviour had sunk her to a new low in his eyes.
Somehow, that only strengthened Adele’s compulsion to snipe and rage and sneer at him. A disgusted look was better than no look at all. Adele’s suede-blue eyes followed her ex-lover’s figure through the half-light of dusk as he walked away and down the steps to the main deck. Over him hung the horizon, a glimmering and iridescent curve, and Adele realised she hadn’t felt seasick in a while.
I love you, she thought. See you soon.
This was too much.
“Oh, God, what’s wrong with me?”
Jacob Graham shrugged and she turned to face him, wondering why he kept popping into existence around her. She only had eyes for Isaac now, like she always had.
“Darlin’,” he said, “there are no words.”
He’d always given her the impression of an inarticulate livewire, but right then the simple perspicuity of his words made her want to cry. He didn’t understand-not even close-but goddamn it, she was in real trouble if the only person who seemed to even have the smallest clue about what was going on in her mind was a man whose main concern in life seemed to be alcohol and petty theft.
She’d always known that she was not, as such, a people person. But this? This was an entirely new level of failure when concerning relationships.
It probably wasn’t normal to enjoy it, even if it was just a little.