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Entry tags:
fic: waiting in the wings
title: waiting in the wings
fandom: FE9 (precanon)
character/pairing: Naesala and Reyson, kinda between gennishpreslash and actual slash
day/theme: Oct 1st | waiting in the wings
a/n: Becky wanted this. It actually wanted to turn itself into OT3 fic (TibarnNaesalaReyson ftw?) But I don’t think she’s into that. Sometime pre-Serenes, probably more geny-preslash than actual slash, but I tried
Naesala’s wings twitch in anticipation. His prey is a certain heron, and such an easy prey it is. They are defenseless in their non-violence, unlike the hawks, who teasing could mean fatal wounds.
Naesala does it anyway. If anyone can dance with death and escape the victor, it’s him.
First Loreziah, then Leanne, then Rafiel glide by. Their wingbeats seem peaceful, a gentle rising and falling, like breathing. Reyson is last, as Naesala guessed.
He whistles, just low enough for them to hear. Leanne hears it too, but she’s pulled on before she can react.
Reyson is too far away to be pulled in, too old and too stubborn to be lead on. He frowns and searches for the whistle, a bird he doesn’t recognize. His family moves away, far beyond his reach.
And Naesala swoops in. Reyson is light, it is all too simple to lift him up into the air and past the treetops before he even had any clue what was happening.
“Naesala! This isn’t funny at all!”
“Oh, really? I find it quite funny, actually,” Naesala says.
Reyson frowns. “We aren’t children anymore, Naesala. Or at least I’m not, I can’t say for you.”
Naesala chuckles. Already the wind is whipping at his face, Reyson’s hair is teased by it, gold strands becoming entangled from the wind’s touch.
“I figured I’d give you some excitement. Aren’t I such a good friend?” The last is mocking, but Reyson is used to mocking. He wouldn’t recognize Naesala without it.
“Surely,” Reyson says.
But Naesala knows that Reyson isn’t half as angry as he lets on. Maybe he’s even enjoying the ride.
Naesala makes a loop and dives, and Reyson clings onto him. It’s a good feeling, and Naesala makes a note to add a ‘damsel’ joke to his repertoire, even if it means getting punched later.
When he finally sets Reyson down (gently, gently) his friend is flustered, wind-kissed and looking as if he’d been ravished. The thought amuses Naesala, almost as much as the explanations it will take.
As if sensing Reyson’s next retort, Naesala answers him. “Just tell them a friend stopped by, they’ll understand.”
With a wink Naesala flies off leaving Reyson flustered and rater furious.
Naesala wonders if Reyson will ever forgive him for this prank, because he needs that extra absolving for his next game.
Which promises to be even more amusing. He thinks Reyson will be amused too. Somehow.
fandom: FE9 (precanon)
character/pairing: Naesala and Reyson, kinda between gennishpreslash and actual slash
day/theme: Oct 1st | waiting in the wings
a/n: Becky wanted this. It actually wanted to turn itself into OT3 fic (TibarnNaesalaReyson ftw?) But I don’t think she’s into that. Sometime pre-Serenes, probably more geny-preslash than actual slash, but I tried
Naesala’s wings twitch in anticipation. His prey is a certain heron, and such an easy prey it is. They are defenseless in their non-violence, unlike the hawks, who teasing could mean fatal wounds.
Naesala does it anyway. If anyone can dance with death and escape the victor, it’s him.
First Loreziah, then Leanne, then Rafiel glide by. Their wingbeats seem peaceful, a gentle rising and falling, like breathing. Reyson is last, as Naesala guessed.
He whistles, just low enough for them to hear. Leanne hears it too, but she’s pulled on before she can react.
Reyson is too far away to be pulled in, too old and too stubborn to be lead on. He frowns and searches for the whistle, a bird he doesn’t recognize. His family moves away, far beyond his reach.
And Naesala swoops in. Reyson is light, it is all too simple to lift him up into the air and past the treetops before he even had any clue what was happening.
“Naesala! This isn’t funny at all!”
“Oh, really? I find it quite funny, actually,” Naesala says.
Reyson frowns. “We aren’t children anymore, Naesala. Or at least I’m not, I can’t say for you.”
Naesala chuckles. Already the wind is whipping at his face, Reyson’s hair is teased by it, gold strands becoming entangled from the wind’s touch.
“I figured I’d give you some excitement. Aren’t I such a good friend?” The last is mocking, but Reyson is used to mocking. He wouldn’t recognize Naesala without it.
“Surely,” Reyson says.
But Naesala knows that Reyson isn’t half as angry as he lets on. Maybe he’s even enjoying the ride.
Naesala makes a loop and dives, and Reyson clings onto him. It’s a good feeling, and Naesala makes a note to add a ‘damsel’ joke to his repertoire, even if it means getting punched later.
When he finally sets Reyson down (gently, gently) his friend is flustered, wind-kissed and looking as if he’d been ravished. The thought amuses Naesala, almost as much as the explanations it will take.
As if sensing Reyson’s next retort, Naesala answers him. “Just tell them a friend stopped by, they’ll understand.”
With a wink Naesala flies off leaving Reyson flustered and rater furious.
Naesala wonders if Reyson will ever forgive him for this prank, because he needs that extra absolving for his next game.
Which promises to be even more amusing. He thinks Reyson will be amused too. Somehow.