3 more drabbles, 2 BSG and 1 Dragonriders of Pern
Remember that day I was bored a while back and asked for prompts? Heh. Barely, it was that long ago. Anyway, I got three more drabbles/ficlets finished. As with the others, they're all unbetaed.
majorsamfan requested:
F’nor sat in Canth’s shade, leaned back into the great beast’s brown chest, the leathery hide much softer than anyone not weyrbred would have ever expected. He’d been up since dawn two days ago - they both had - and he was beyond exhausted, but he couldn’t yet take the luxury of sleep. The Thread wouldn’t allow it; the Holders wouldn’t allow it.
Thread had begun to fall wrong all over Pern two mornings ago and F’lar had asked the younger man to be in half a dozen places at once. F’nor closed his eyes, a small, tired smile stretching his lips slightly. F’lar hadn’t literally asked that of him and Canth, but Lessa would have, if she’d been around. And so F’nor had done what he could, put out all the figurative - and one literal - fires that sprang up here, there, and everywhere, calming Holders, running supplies, fighting the thrice-damned Threads as needed.
Now all he wanted to do was sleep and he didn’t care where. An almost purring rumble at his back made F’nor grin - Canth agreed with him whole-heartedly.
He reached back to stroke his friend’s neck. “Once we get home, my friend… Once we get home, I’ll snag a pot of Manora’s special ointment for you. A rub down and at least twelve solid hours of sleep. How does that sound?”
Canth had to content himself with a great whuffle of air that stirred the dust at F’nor’s feet, since their position was such that the brown dragon couldn’t nuzzle the brown man’s hair.
weissman requested:
“Sharon…” Helo’s voice was low, just above a whisper as he gripped her shoulder and nodded toward the opening hatch. She glanced at his face before she turned, saw the mixture of emotions at war in him as his eyes locked on the woman who entered Admiral Adama’s quarters, graciously offered for this first meeting.
Sharon had seen Maya before, but only from a distance. She quashed a wave of dislike and tried to remember that this woman had known nothing of Hera’s origins and that, as soon as she had learned the truth, had sought to reunite Hera - she refused to think of her as Isis - with her biological parents.
A movement caught Sharon’s attention, drew her eyes down, away from the tentative smile on Maya’s face. Her breath caught in her chest at the sight of the little girl with Helo’s eyes, peeking at her from behind the other woman’s leg, one small hand holding tightly to her skirt. Helo’s fingers dug into her shoulder painfully, but Sharon didn’t care.
“Hello, Hera.”
The little girl - my God, she’s nearly three years old! - ducked behind Maya and a disembodied voice, light and a bit breathless, said, “I’m Isis.”
“She’s kind of stubborn, I’m afraid,” Maya said apologetically as she gently prodded the girl out of hiding.
Hera still half-hid behind Maya, her thumb in her mouth, but there was nothing of hostility in her, only curiosity. For the first time in what seemed like forever, Sharon felt a surge of hope. “Just like her father,” she acknowledged, a tentative smile of her own stretching her lips.
An anonymous poster requested:
“You should wear blue,” Sharon said, perched above on her rack and leafing through a magazine. “You look good in blue.”
Kara’s response was a ladylike snort. “You gonna get that red dress Tyrol liked so well?”
Helo lay in his rack, listening to Sharon and Kara talk about, of all things, shopping for dresses to wear to the big bash that was to follow the decommissioning ceremony. Their conversation reminded him of the day he had first laid eyes on Sharon Valerii.
That day, almost two years ago, Helo had worn nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips. He had just returned from the showers and was rummaging around in his locker for clean underwear and tanks when she had walked in, unannounced. Months later, immediately following a drunken confession in an anonymous bar in an anonymous town, Kara had laughingly told him that he should have dropped the towel, ‘cause if he had, their little rook would never have noticed the Chief.
***
“Um, hello?”
His back to the hatch, Helo turned his head enough to see the girl standing there, holding a duffle and looking uncertain in her blue uniform. Clean clothes in hand, he shut the locker door and turned to face her. Her dark eyes dropped to the towel around his waist and he grinned. “Can I help you, Lieutenant?” He leaned deliberately back against the lockers, crossed his arms over his chest and lifted one bare foot to rest against the metal, his knee tenting the white terry cloth. Her eyes widened a bit, as did his grin.
“I’ve been assigned rack 358-249U…” She bit her lower lip and Helo couldn’t help but notice that it was a pretty nice lower lip.
He nodded toward the beds across from his. “U for upper. I’m Karl Agathon.”
She dropped her bag and took two steps toward him, held out her hand. She smiled at him then and his heart skipped a beat. “I’m Sharon Valerii.”
He straightened and took her hand in his. “Call me Helo.”
***
“Yeah, it’s expensive, but it’ll be worth it to see the look on his face when I walk in.”
Helo closed his eyes. Kara had been right, he should’ve dropped the frakking towel.
As always, feedback is appreciated. :D
majorsamfan requested:
F’nor sat in Canth’s shade, leaned back into the great beast’s brown chest, the leathery hide much softer than anyone not weyrbred would have ever expected. He’d been up since dawn two days ago - they both had - and he was beyond exhausted, but he couldn’t yet take the luxury of sleep. The Thread wouldn’t allow it; the Holders wouldn’t allow it.
Thread had begun to fall wrong all over Pern two mornings ago and F’lar had asked the younger man to be in half a dozen places at once. F’nor closed his eyes, a small, tired smile stretching his lips slightly. F’lar hadn’t literally asked that of him and Canth, but Lessa would have, if she’d been around. And so F’nor had done what he could, put out all the figurative - and one literal - fires that sprang up here, there, and everywhere, calming Holders, running supplies, fighting the thrice-damned Threads as needed.
Now all he wanted to do was sleep and he didn’t care where. An almost purring rumble at his back made F’nor grin - Canth agreed with him whole-heartedly.
He reached back to stroke his friend’s neck. “Once we get home, my friend… Once we get home, I’ll snag a pot of Manora’s special ointment for you. A rub down and at least twelve solid hours of sleep. How does that sound?”
Canth had to content himself with a great whuffle of air that stirred the dust at F’nor’s feet, since their position was such that the brown dragon couldn’t nuzzle the brown man’s hair.
weissman requested:
“Sharon…” Helo’s voice was low, just above a whisper as he gripped her shoulder and nodded toward the opening hatch. She glanced at his face before she turned, saw the mixture of emotions at war in him as his eyes locked on the woman who entered Admiral Adama’s quarters, graciously offered for this first meeting.
Sharon had seen Maya before, but only from a distance. She quashed a wave of dislike and tried to remember that this woman had known nothing of Hera’s origins and that, as soon as she had learned the truth, had sought to reunite Hera - she refused to think of her as Isis - with her biological parents.
A movement caught Sharon’s attention, drew her eyes down, away from the tentative smile on Maya’s face. Her breath caught in her chest at the sight of the little girl with Helo’s eyes, peeking at her from behind the other woman’s leg, one small hand holding tightly to her skirt. Helo’s fingers dug into her shoulder painfully, but Sharon didn’t care.
“Hello, Hera.”
The little girl - my God, she’s nearly three years old! - ducked behind Maya and a disembodied voice, light and a bit breathless, said, “I’m Isis.”
“She’s kind of stubborn, I’m afraid,” Maya said apologetically as she gently prodded the girl out of hiding.
Hera still half-hid behind Maya, her thumb in her mouth, but there was nothing of hostility in her, only curiosity. For the first time in what seemed like forever, Sharon felt a surge of hope. “Just like her father,” she acknowledged, a tentative smile of her own stretching her lips.
An anonymous poster requested:
“You should wear blue,” Sharon said, perched above on her rack and leafing through a magazine. “You look good in blue.”
Kara’s response was a ladylike snort. “You gonna get that red dress Tyrol liked so well?”
Helo lay in his rack, listening to Sharon and Kara talk about, of all things, shopping for dresses to wear to the big bash that was to follow the decommissioning ceremony. Their conversation reminded him of the day he had first laid eyes on Sharon Valerii.
That day, almost two years ago, Helo had worn nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips. He had just returned from the showers and was rummaging around in his locker for clean underwear and tanks when she had walked in, unannounced. Months later, immediately following a drunken confession in an anonymous bar in an anonymous town, Kara had laughingly told him that he should have dropped the towel, ‘cause if he had, their little rook would never have noticed the Chief.
***
“Um, hello?”
His back to the hatch, Helo turned his head enough to see the girl standing there, holding a duffle and looking uncertain in her blue uniform. Clean clothes in hand, he shut the locker door and turned to face her. Her dark eyes dropped to the towel around his waist and he grinned. “Can I help you, Lieutenant?” He leaned deliberately back against the lockers, crossed his arms over his chest and lifted one bare foot to rest against the metal, his knee tenting the white terry cloth. Her eyes widened a bit, as did his grin.
“I’ve been assigned rack 358-249U…” She bit her lower lip and Helo couldn’t help but notice that it was a pretty nice lower lip.
He nodded toward the beds across from his. “U for upper. I’m Karl Agathon.”
She dropped her bag and took two steps toward him, held out her hand. She smiled at him then and his heart skipped a beat. “I’m Sharon Valerii.”
He straightened and took her hand in his. “Call me Helo.”
***
“Yeah, it’s expensive, but it’ll be worth it to see the look on his face when I walk in.”
Helo closed his eyes. Kara had been right, he should’ve dropped the frakking towel.
As always, feedback is appreciated. :D