Fic: Like Always (Magna Carta 2)
Nov. 1st, 2010 01:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
clonechildFandom: Magna Carta 2
Characters: whole party
No pairings
Only the vaguest spoilers for the plot; if you know all six party members you're set.
word count: ~1200
Someone, please critique my grammar; I think there's a lot wrong with it.
-- -- --
“What's with the weather today!”
It's more an exclamation than a question, tossed around as Juto pulls the door closed as fast as he can, trying to minimize the amount of freezing wind blowing through the opening.
It's storming outside, the wind blowing around pebble-sized hailstones as if they were feathers, thunder streaking a lightshow across the sky. It's pure luck that they found an abandoned wayfarer's cabin, varnish chipping off the wood but still sturdy and secure and with the roof intact, all in all a damn sight better than camping with the temperature close to 'uncomfortably cold'.
Juto shoves a block of wood against the door to keep it closed, its key having been lost and the lock so rusted that it would have been useless anyway. The smell of seasoned meat permeates the small cabin, heavy with the sharp spices Crocell so favours. Normally someone would have cautioned him already about not using more seasoning than the rest of them are comfortable with but apparently everyone feels like burning their mouths today.
Or so Juto thinks, until he turns around and sees that Crocell and Argo are the only ones inside, and Argo would never think to chastise Crocell about the meat, his Trewa tongue far less sensitive than a human's. He's lounging against one of the rough wooden walls, sharpening his axe and looking for blemishes in the steel, looking for all the world as if it isn't terribly cold. Another Trewa advantage.
Crocell, meanwhile, is bundled up in what looks like several fur coats, both his own and – Juto squints a bit – yes, the white one with the red embroidered trim is definitely Zephie's, and the black bit peeking out from under that one looks like it belongs to Rue. He's sitting so close to the cooking fire it's a wonder he hasn't burned himself yet, and as Juto watches, he throws some more herbs into the gently steaming pot suspended above the flames.
“Where's the girls?” Juto hesitates for a moment before taking his dripping coat off, spreading it over a rickety old chair so it can dry. He shivers when cold air hits his damp skin and moves closer to the fire, the toasty heat quickly warming his face and hands.
Crocell's scowl deepens. “Outside.” He says the word – spits it, really – like it has committed him grievous bodily harm. “They're outside.”
Juto blinks, wiping his wet hair out of his eyes. “You've gotta be kidding me. In this weather?” He gestures at Crocell's hunched form. “Without their coats?”
“They'll be fine,” Argo says calmly, like he isn't worried at all about the princess catching a cold, or running into whatever type of monster comes out in weather like this, or! Or! Juto's brain entertains itself for a while concocting increasingly horrendous scenario's in which something can happen to Zephie while out at night, in a hailstorm, complete with thunder and lightning and without a coat. It's the last one it keeps shutting down on.
It's only when Crocell snarls at him to shut up that he realises he's babbling his thoughts out loud.
“They'll be fine,” Argo repeats. “It's simply that this type of weather is irresistible to them.”
“Huh?”
“Think about it, genius.” Crocell makes a sharp gesture with one gloved hand. “Just imagine the amount of Kan hanging in the air now. Ugh, if it wasn't raining, I'd be out there too! Damn rain.”
“Oh.” Juto looks out one of the windows, sees the rain streaming down the dirty glass, hears the ticking of the hailstones and the crash of thunder, the howling of the wind. Thinks about the elemental Kan that must be out on the field now and compares it to the elements their missing members specialise in. “Huh. And they don't need their coats?”
“They don't,” Argo rumbles. “You know Zephie is immune to the effects of wind, just as Celestine will not feel the cold.”
“And Rue?”
“She's wearing Celestine's coat.”
“Oh.” Juto sits down, winces at how the wet fabric of his trousers feels shifting over his legs. “Why?”
“Beats me,” Crocell shrugs. “It's certainly not warmer than hers. Hey, you guys think the food's good like this?”
Juto leans over to look into the pot. “Smells good. ...Hey, is that why you're always the one on cooking duty?”
“Is what why I'm always on cooking duty?”
Juto shrugs. “You're a fire wizard. So, I guess, handling the fire for cooking should be easy for you. And you certainly use more spice than the others.”
“Tell me about it.” Crocell lifts the pot, evidently not caring for how hot the metal is in his hands, and rises, careful not to accidentally set his covering of fur on fire. “Celestine and Rue are terrible with the amount of seasoning needed. I just don't get how Rue always forget to just taste her food!”
“And Zephie?” Juto asks, now genuinely curious.
Both Argo and Crocell shudder.
Just as Juto opens his mouth to repeat his question, there's the sound of loud knocking on the door. He kicks the block of wood to the side and the door slams open, the girls and a cold gust of wind and rain tumbling in. Crocell curses and pulls his coats tighter.
“Aaaaah,” Celestine sighs happily, seemingly not caring that she's dripping with water and half-naked. “That felt so good!” The heart marks are almost audible.
Juto quickly closes the door again as Argo hands Zephie and Rue a towel.
The princess makes a humming sound as she dries her hair, sauntering over to Crocell to peek into the cooking pot. “It smells good!” she says. “Looks like we have perfect timing, right?”
“A warm meal would be an excellent way to rebuild our strength,” Rue agrees, hanging out her borrowed coat to dry, Celestine making adoring noises at Argo handing her her towel in the background. “However, I must inquire that next time you do not season the meat quite so sharply, Crocell.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Crocell mutters. “Not my fault you like it bland.”
“Ooh, ugh! Crocell cooked?” Celestine sticks her tongue out. “You always make it too spicy, Crocell! It burns my tongue!”
“Well then,” he sneers back, “if you don't want to have any complaints next time you should just stay inside and cook for yourself, you whiny little brat!”
Rue rolls her eyes, Argo quickly getting up, trying to calm their tempers as Crocell and Celestine continue sniping at each other.
Zephie sighs and catches Juto's eyes and they share a secretive smile. It's rowdy as usual, the voices of the two squabbling wizards getting higher and higher as Argo tries frantically to suss the mood, Rue staring fixedly at the windows – eternally on guard – and later they will all curse Crocell for flavouring the meat too spicy yet again and it is familiar and comfortable, like the wind isn't howling around their little cabin and they don't have two armies on their tail.
-- -- --
Characters: whole party
No pairings
Only the vaguest spoilers for the plot; if you know all six party members you're set.
word count: ~1200
Someone, please critique my grammar; I think there's a lot wrong with it.
-- -- --
“What's with the weather today!”
It's more an exclamation than a question, tossed around as Juto pulls the door closed as fast as he can, trying to minimize the amount of freezing wind blowing through the opening.
It's storming outside, the wind blowing around pebble-sized hailstones as if they were feathers, thunder streaking a lightshow across the sky. It's pure luck that they found an abandoned wayfarer's cabin, varnish chipping off the wood but still sturdy and secure and with the roof intact, all in all a damn sight better than camping with the temperature close to 'uncomfortably cold'.
Juto shoves a block of wood against the door to keep it closed, its key having been lost and the lock so rusted that it would have been useless anyway. The smell of seasoned meat permeates the small cabin, heavy with the sharp spices Crocell so favours. Normally someone would have cautioned him already about not using more seasoning than the rest of them are comfortable with but apparently everyone feels like burning their mouths today.
Or so Juto thinks, until he turns around and sees that Crocell and Argo are the only ones inside, and Argo would never think to chastise Crocell about the meat, his Trewa tongue far less sensitive than a human's. He's lounging against one of the rough wooden walls, sharpening his axe and looking for blemishes in the steel, looking for all the world as if it isn't terribly cold. Another Trewa advantage.
Crocell, meanwhile, is bundled up in what looks like several fur coats, both his own and – Juto squints a bit – yes, the white one with the red embroidered trim is definitely Zephie's, and the black bit peeking out from under that one looks like it belongs to Rue. He's sitting so close to the cooking fire it's a wonder he hasn't burned himself yet, and as Juto watches, he throws some more herbs into the gently steaming pot suspended above the flames.
“Where's the girls?” Juto hesitates for a moment before taking his dripping coat off, spreading it over a rickety old chair so it can dry. He shivers when cold air hits his damp skin and moves closer to the fire, the toasty heat quickly warming his face and hands.
Crocell's scowl deepens. “Outside.” He says the word – spits it, really – like it has committed him grievous bodily harm. “They're outside.”
Juto blinks, wiping his wet hair out of his eyes. “You've gotta be kidding me. In this weather?” He gestures at Crocell's hunched form. “Without their coats?”
“They'll be fine,” Argo says calmly, like he isn't worried at all about the princess catching a cold, or running into whatever type of monster comes out in weather like this, or! Or! Juto's brain entertains itself for a while concocting increasingly horrendous scenario's in which something can happen to Zephie while out at night, in a hailstorm, complete with thunder and lightning and without a coat. It's the last one it keeps shutting down on.
It's only when Crocell snarls at him to shut up that he realises he's babbling his thoughts out loud.
“They'll be fine,” Argo repeats. “It's simply that this type of weather is irresistible to them.”
“Huh?”
“Think about it, genius.” Crocell makes a sharp gesture with one gloved hand. “Just imagine the amount of Kan hanging in the air now. Ugh, if it wasn't raining, I'd be out there too! Damn rain.”
“Oh.” Juto looks out one of the windows, sees the rain streaming down the dirty glass, hears the ticking of the hailstones and the crash of thunder, the howling of the wind. Thinks about the elemental Kan that must be out on the field now and compares it to the elements their missing members specialise in. “Huh. And they don't need their coats?”
“They don't,” Argo rumbles. “You know Zephie is immune to the effects of wind, just as Celestine will not feel the cold.”
“And Rue?”
“She's wearing Celestine's coat.”
“Oh.” Juto sits down, winces at how the wet fabric of his trousers feels shifting over his legs. “Why?”
“Beats me,” Crocell shrugs. “It's certainly not warmer than hers. Hey, you guys think the food's good like this?”
Juto leans over to look into the pot. “Smells good. ...Hey, is that why you're always the one on cooking duty?”
“Is what why I'm always on cooking duty?”
Juto shrugs. “You're a fire wizard. So, I guess, handling the fire for cooking should be easy for you. And you certainly use more spice than the others.”
“Tell me about it.” Crocell lifts the pot, evidently not caring for how hot the metal is in his hands, and rises, careful not to accidentally set his covering of fur on fire. “Celestine and Rue are terrible with the amount of seasoning needed. I just don't get how Rue always forget to just taste her food!”
“And Zephie?” Juto asks, now genuinely curious.
Both Argo and Crocell shudder.
Just as Juto opens his mouth to repeat his question, there's the sound of loud knocking on the door. He kicks the block of wood to the side and the door slams open, the girls and a cold gust of wind and rain tumbling in. Crocell curses and pulls his coats tighter.
“Aaaaah,” Celestine sighs happily, seemingly not caring that she's dripping with water and half-naked. “That felt so good!” The heart marks are almost audible.
Juto quickly closes the door again as Argo hands Zephie and Rue a towel.
The princess makes a humming sound as she dries her hair, sauntering over to Crocell to peek into the cooking pot. “It smells good!” she says. “Looks like we have perfect timing, right?”
“A warm meal would be an excellent way to rebuild our strength,” Rue agrees, hanging out her borrowed coat to dry, Celestine making adoring noises at Argo handing her her towel in the background. “However, I must inquire that next time you do not season the meat quite so sharply, Crocell.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Crocell mutters. “Not my fault you like it bland.”
“Ooh, ugh! Crocell cooked?” Celestine sticks her tongue out. “You always make it too spicy, Crocell! It burns my tongue!”
“Well then,” he sneers back, “if you don't want to have any complaints next time you should just stay inside and cook for yourself, you whiny little brat!”
Rue rolls her eyes, Argo quickly getting up, trying to calm their tempers as Crocell and Celestine continue sniping at each other.
Zephie sighs and catches Juto's eyes and they share a secretive smile. It's rowdy as usual, the voices of the two squabbling wizards getting higher and higher as Argo tries frantically to suss the mood, Rue staring fixedly at the windows – eternally on guard – and later they will all curse Crocell for flavouring the meat too spicy yet again and it is familiar and comfortable, like the wind isn't howling around their little cabin and they don't have two armies on their tail.
-- -- --