birthrightgreen (
birthrightgreen) wrote2006-01-13 09:10 pm
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AU for
_deadlydance_, set immediately after "The Price"
She wasn't nervous. She had nothing to be nervous about. It wasn't like it was a romantic evening. They'd just worked so hard on the case, working to catch the rabid witch who'd been slaughtering innocent males. And they had, with Jaenelle's help. Now Jaenelle and Daemon were back on their honeymoon and she...
She was here in Amdarh, back how she had been, nursing the bruises Falonar had left. So, why, exactly was she changing her dress? The one she had on was perfectly acceptable. She was going out dancing with a friend. She could use a friend right now. What she couldn't use was a male thinking he was just going to sweep in and carry her off.
Not that he was probably thinking that, but she was suspicious.
He was a male, and years of seeing them abused by her own sex still hadn't made her trust them as a gender. Then again, she didn't trust most people.
With a growl at herself, she finally settled on a black dress with enough slink to impress and a enough swirl to make a statement on the dance floor, no matter how elegant and formal. Hair pinned half up, the rest left down. If people stared at her ears, so be it.
She was ready. It was going to be fun. She kept repeating that. Fun. With a friend.
Just a friend. He wasn't expecting anything. He wouldn't be that foolish.
She just wished she knew what he wanted.
She was here in Amdarh, back how she had been, nursing the bruises Falonar had left. So, why, exactly was she changing her dress? The one she had on was perfectly acceptable. She was going out dancing with a friend. She could use a friend right now. What she couldn't use was a male thinking he was just going to sweep in and carry her off.
Not that he was probably thinking that, but she was suspicious.
He was a male, and years of seeing them abused by her own sex still hadn't made her trust them as a gender. Then again, she didn't trust most people.
With a growl at herself, she finally settled on a black dress with enough slink to impress and a enough swirl to make a statement on the dance floor, no matter how elegant and formal. Hair pinned half up, the rest left down. If people stared at her ears, so be it.
She was ready. It was going to be fun. She kept repeating that. Fun. With a friend.
Just a friend. He wasn't expecting anything. He wouldn't be that foolish.
She just wished she knew what he wanted.
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Daemon also had seemingly eased whatever had been upsetting Surreal for all of those days, setting Rainier on edge because he simply had no idea how to sooth it.
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Rainier's eyes challanged her to deny it.
Not that he was jealous.
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He'd known, without her saying anything.
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Or how taunt, and drawn, she would have stayed.
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"Well, you can expect to have won the appreciation of a great many men in the city."
Was she prepared for that?
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"Oh, shit."
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"Safely? No, not at all." She gave him a look. "But you seem to be of the distinct impression that females ought to be petted."
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"Ought'nt they?"
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It wasn't as if he was going to apologize for the behaivor.
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"Have you ever considered the other view? The dead, empty feeling that consumes when we are not allowed to serve? The inability to dance the edge on our own?"
At least without causing damage so fierce, and to loose the ability to recognize your own hands work.
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He was done with his wine.
"So why can't there be the daily connection? The reminder of what Service really means. Why can't the young one lead you across the street, and feel the touch of an anchor. To feel, more than know why it works, if it is honored? Why does that just have to be about -- an edge?"
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She pushed her hair back behind her ear, eyes thoughtful, and maybe just a touch of the broken little girl in them.
"I don't know," she admitted quietly. "I've never...I've never seen it be like that. Never seen it...work."
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"You should see. Because -- it can."
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