Subject: [PW!] A Brief Rest
Date: Mon, 22 Jul 2002 06:51:49 GMT
Pre-dawn light shone through the mottled canopy of an unamed, uncharted
forest somewhere in the northern regions of Johto. The golden columns
illuminated floating moats and the few insects that could resist the damp
and cold of early morning. Gnats wound between each other, knitting together
pockets of air until it began to buzz of its own accord, and the vandalous
group moved on to adulterate further tranquility. A wet, musty feeling
pervaded all, and the creak of trees denoted a warming of the earth and the
air as the sun ever so slowly pushed away the dark sleepiness of night. All
was quiet except for a quiet, faroff thump that held a cracking undertone.
This unobtrusive noise grew steadily louder, the cracking growing more
distinct. The gnats moved about curiously, wondering what this new
phenomenon was. Bushes shuddered and a machete sliced through their foliage
and branches, shearing away the greenery to make way for Darian McCain. He
stepped carefully over the negligible destruction he had wrought, not
breakign stride nor swing. Lisa Charity followed behind him, looking
thankful it was not her job to do the chopping. She rolled her ankle on a
freshly turned stone and swore under her breath, leaning one hand against a
tree. Darian paused his swing and turned to look at her. His relaxed frown
deepened and he retraced his steps to stand beside Lisa. She looked up at
him, his arms crossed over his chest.
"What happened?" he asked, with his natural apathetic air. She returned to
clumsily massaging her ankle. Bending almost completely over is not the best
position to tend to your injuries.
"I just rolled my ankle a little," she said, conscious of receiving his full
attention. He knelt in the dirty loam of the forest and roughly took her
ankle in his hands, somehow not causing her any pain. She watched his
eyebrows knit as he inspected her foot with all the air of a practiced
physician. She smiled and pulled a stray tendril of hair behind her ear.
Although it may not seem like it to anyone else, he did actually care for
her, and this was a moment when she became more sure of it.
She abruptly became aware of Darian looking up at her. He'd caught her
daydreaming again, and no doubt giving her a girlish grin as well. Her
thoughts were confirmed as he turned his face down, trying to hide the
reddening of his cheeks. She'd noticed a while ago that he always either
blushed or developed a marginally better attitude whenever she smiled at
him. Now, he was massaging her ankle between his hands, the warmth from his
body seeping into hers, making the pain dissipate.
"That should do it," he said, releasing her foot. "Can you walk on it?"
Disappointed that the massage had been so brief, she tested that foot. A
dull pain lingered, but nothing that couldn't be ignored.
"I'm great now. Thanks much, hon." She purred softly, and pressed herself
toward him. His eyes locked with hers, and for a moment a glimpse of
gratitude, tinged with genuine relief filled his gaze. At that infinte
moment, she had an overwhelming urge to leap into his arms and kiss him. A
far more passionate kiss than the ones on the cheek she'd give him to make
him squirm. But he turned quickly and, retrieving the machete from where
he'd planted it in the ground, continued creating their makeshift path
through the foliage.
Lisa smiled to herself, and followed him, grateful for, at the very least,
the brief rest.
(OOC: What can I say but, "Woo hoo! Darian's back!" I've been wanting to
write for him since Christmas, but have never gotten around to it. I've just
finished reading "Shards of Honor" and "Barrayar" by Lois McMaster Bujold.
Her style of writing has given me something new to try, and my next few
posts will mostly likely try to emulate her brand of narrative.)