challenge entry
challenge: [50] pandora
title: hope
word count: 545
notes: another ren and fancy story, set a bit after two wings. and thank you, m'dear syvia, for letting me again borrow fancy. ♥
Once upon a time, the stories always start. Once upon a time. Never yesterday, or tomorrow. Never right now.
Right now, this isn't any kind of story. It begins the usual way, I guess, with me wanting something and deciding it might be fun to take it, and his royal fancy lordship the fourteenth objecting - mostly because he wanted it himself. But, see, he thinks stealing a box (or a chest, or a safe, or those weird floating cubes, the ones with the lights) is all about finding what's inside, same as how he thinks only rare flash has any worth.
(He couldn't see true rarity if she stood flapping her wings on the tip of his long and elegant nose.)
And yesterday... we ended up here. Another medieval mudhole with magick and pointies, but they've got running water, at least (not that you've ever had much acquaintance with that, Ren, he says. I point my tongue at him - and if it were me, I'd try to bite it off, because then he'd have to wipe that look off his face, and besides it'd make a good story. But I told you this isn't a story. It doesn't start once upon a time.) So he wanted a bath, and I wanted something to eat that wasn't crawling, and we both wanted the other to shove it, but that's nothing new.
(Two landings ago I did - shove him, I mean. Hard.)
Tomorrow they're going to hang us - maybe I should have mentioned. I can just hover and flap, of course, but his noble fanciness is going to dangle, boots and all. I told him that's what he gets for curiosity, and he said something like oh Ren, you're always right except it came out sounding more like why did I think to follow some damnable black-feathered devil-girl? which might have been due to the guard's sword in his face.
(It's not called a sword, here, but it's still metal - and it still cuts.)
But, see, once upon a time there was a girl who found the boy who had her other wing. That's a much better story, isn't it? Except she hated him, and he hates her, and that's not the way things are supposed to go - but she still won't let him hang, even if he keeps ruining her story. And when you open a box (it doesn't matter if it's glass or plastic or diamond), sometimes you get bitten, or stung, or you learn that even a medieval mudhole knows how to set a decent alarm on their "greatest treasure." And then sometimes you look down (glass or plastic or diamond) and you see there the reflection of the person right behind you, and suddenly you've got a name for him other than Fancy or Miloooord or hey, you. And once upon a time--
(yesterday, tomorrow, right now)
--you grin at him and say well, I've still got the box, so let's go flying. And maybe he says Ren (or devil-girl), that box is empty and worthless, and then you say no, because you're still here. And while he's still standing there (staring, trying to figure you out) you say so come on - let's go fill it.
title: hope
word count: 545
notes: another ren and fancy story, set a bit after two wings. and thank you, m'dear syvia, for letting me again borrow fancy. ♥
Once upon a time, the stories always start. Once upon a time. Never yesterday, or tomorrow. Never right now.
Right now, this isn't any kind of story. It begins the usual way, I guess, with me wanting something and deciding it might be fun to take it, and his royal fancy lordship the fourteenth objecting - mostly because he wanted it himself. But, see, he thinks stealing a box (or a chest, or a safe, or those weird floating cubes, the ones with the lights) is all about finding what's inside, same as how he thinks only rare flash has any worth.
(He couldn't see true rarity if she stood flapping her wings on the tip of his long and elegant nose.)
And yesterday... we ended up here. Another medieval mudhole with magick and pointies, but they've got running water, at least (not that you've ever had much acquaintance with that, Ren, he says. I point my tongue at him - and if it were me, I'd try to bite it off, because then he'd have to wipe that look off his face, and besides it'd make a good story. But I told you this isn't a story. It doesn't start once upon a time.) So he wanted a bath, and I wanted something to eat that wasn't crawling, and we both wanted the other to shove it, but that's nothing new.
(Two landings ago I did - shove him, I mean. Hard.)
Tomorrow they're going to hang us - maybe I should have mentioned. I can just hover and flap, of course, but his noble fanciness is going to dangle, boots and all. I told him that's what he gets for curiosity, and he said something like oh Ren, you're always right except it came out sounding more like why did I think to follow some damnable black-feathered devil-girl? which might have been due to the guard's sword in his face.
(It's not called a sword, here, but it's still metal - and it still cuts.)
But, see, once upon a time there was a girl who found the boy who had her other wing. That's a much better story, isn't it? Except she hated him, and he hates her, and that's not the way things are supposed to go - but she still won't let him hang, even if he keeps ruining her story. And when you open a box (it doesn't matter if it's glass or plastic or diamond), sometimes you get bitten, or stung, or you learn that even a medieval mudhole knows how to set a decent alarm on their "greatest treasure." And then sometimes you look down (glass or plastic or diamond) and you see there the reflection of the person right behind you, and suddenly you've got a name for him other than Fancy or Miloooord or hey, you. And once upon a time--
(yesterday, tomorrow, right now)
--you grin at him and say well, I've still got the box, so let's go flying. And maybe he says Ren (or devil-girl), that box is empty and worthless, and then you say no, because you're still here. And while he's still standing there (staring, trying to figure you out) you say so come on - let's go fill it.