Fic: Loose Ends
Jul. 13th, 2009 11:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dolevalanTitle: Loose Ends
Fandom/original: Original
Rating: PG
A/N:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rougen's prompt was "indiscretion."
It was probably a bad choice.
Alright, "probably" was generous.
But even so, that hardly justified...
Yuri wiggled his left ankle, gingerly. Not broken, at least - that was something. He tried to pull himself up to reach the rope around it, but he couldn't hold the position long enough to do any good. With a curse, he fell back to the length of the line, jarring his leg.
If he got out of this, Clara would be glad to know she got an "I told you so" out of the bargain. It was infuriating, being shown up by a junior partner that way.
But this girl... lady. She'd almost been worth it. And he could hardly be blamed for not knowing the demure picture of what high society had to offer was a front for a double life, could he?
He did admit, the lady had a gift with ropes. He suppressed the urge to laugh; all the blood was running to his head and making him giddy. Sternly, he told himself to think.
Well, he'd be found soon, surely. It was just a matter of explaning - but the damnable woman would probably be with them. Hell, she'd probably be...
Clara was standing almost directly under him by the time he noted her presence. She didn't say a word, just gave him a look. He tried to shrug, but shifting his weight made his hip groan in protest, so he stopped. "...best mark I ever saw," he said, almost apologetically, though not quite.
Clara just snorted, and lithely climbed the tree, untying the rope once she could reach it. He fell, not particularly gracefully, to the ground.
He got to his feet, rubbing his head. "Hang it all, woman."
"Do you need to stay and give your fondest respects, or can we get the hell out of here?" Clara jumped down and, luckily for him, allowed the question to remain a rhetorical one.
Yuri didn't look back as they took the road out into the countryside, but he couldn't help but think of his limp as a souvenir. What a great town.
Fandom/original: Original
Rating: PG
A/N:
rougen's prompt was "indiscretion."It was probably a bad choice.
Alright, "probably" was generous.
But even so, that hardly justified...
Yuri wiggled his left ankle, gingerly. Not broken, at least - that was something. He tried to pull himself up to reach the rope around it, but he couldn't hold the position long enough to do any good. With a curse, he fell back to the length of the line, jarring his leg.
If he got out of this, Clara would be glad to know she got an "I told you so" out of the bargain. It was infuriating, being shown up by a junior partner that way.
But this girl... lady. She'd almost been worth it. And he could hardly be blamed for not knowing the demure picture of what high society had to offer was a front for a double life, could he?
He did admit, the lady had a gift with ropes. He suppressed the urge to laugh; all the blood was running to his head and making him giddy. Sternly, he told himself to think.
Well, he'd be found soon, surely. It was just a matter of explaning - but the damnable woman would probably be with them. Hell, she'd probably be...
Clara was standing almost directly under him by the time he noted her presence. She didn't say a word, just gave him a look. He tried to shrug, but shifting his weight made his hip groan in protest, so he stopped. "...best mark I ever saw," he said, almost apologetically, though not quite.
Clara just snorted, and lithely climbed the tree, untying the rope once she could reach it. He fell, not particularly gracefully, to the ground.
He got to his feet, rubbing his head. "Hang it all, woman."
"Do you need to stay and give your fondest respects, or can we get the hell out of here?" Clara jumped down and, luckily for him, allowed the question to remain a rhetorical one.
Yuri didn't look back as they took the road out into the countryside, but he couldn't help but think of his limp as a souvenir. What a great town.
