fic: Desert Rain
Dec. 10th, 2008 04:02 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisTitle: Desert Rain
Fandom: FE10
Character/Pairing: Stefan/Mordecai, but really light/genish
Rating: G, sure.
A/N: kink meme request for Stefan/Mordecai fluff.
The sun rises over the desert and the desperate cold of the night gives to a pleasant coolness. It will be the only time when the day itself is bearable, and Stefan savors every morning. The rainy season will come soon, and for a fleeting second the desert will come alive with flowers and animals that had buried themselves beneath the ground and slept away their years.
Stefan raises his earthenware cup to his lips and drinks. The water tastes of sand. Everything tastes of sand here, whatever food that is ingested will have a gritty texture, even the heavy air tastes of roving sand that come up with every desert wind.
Stefan hears the sleeping figure begin to stir, but he does not turn. He does not know how long Mordecai will be there, and each time the thought of his leaving comes within his mind, it leaves a gritty, bitter aftertaste, much like the sand itself. Last night they had lain entwined and the cold had been kept at bay, but with each new morning he counts down the days until Mordecai will return to his people.
“Stef, good morning to you,” Mordecai says.
“I’ve made you some,” Stefan says.
“Thank you, Stef,” Mordecai rumbles. The cup is dwarfed in his enormous hands but he holds it as if it was some delicate china and not the poorly forged pot of their resident artisan. Perhaps if they had better materials, the work could be better, but Stefan knows this will never happen. They barely scrape to survive on their bitter lands, their home only because the rest of the world does not desire such a barren wasteland. Mordecai sits down beside him. Stefan feels the shade descend over him, and while no one would ever call him a ‘small’ man, he is compared to the tigers and lions he has seen.
Mordecai smiles even through the heat. “It is beautiful, this morning. Do you not think so, Stef?”
“Yes, it’s a nice sight indeed,” Stefan replies after a sip.
He is suspicious. When he had asked Mordecai to visit him, he always knew that Mordecai would go back to his people and the forests they inhabit. What would a desert have to offer but acridness and desolation? Even the closest of friends wouldn’t make such a sacrifice.
“I will not leave you, Stef,”
Stefan chuckles a harsh, bitter laugh. “I thought it was the Herons that read minds, not the beast tribe.”
“Mmm,” Mordecai rumbles. “But we of the beast tribe can smell an emotion as it comes. I am a beast tribe and I promised you that I would come. Now,
Stefan set down his cup beside him, uncaring for the moment just how much of the accursed sand blows into his tea.
“I can’t offer you anything here. It’s a wreck, everything here– crops won’t grow, the antelopes and hares are stringy and thin and the sand it gets into everything.”
Mordecai nodded slowly and leaned on his arm. “Ah yes, but the mornings, they are beautiful and the nights they have so many stars. I have not seen the rainstorms you have told me about. I could accustom myself to desert living.”
“If you’re so eager to martyr yourself I can hardly force you out. At least you’ll have plenty of time to tell me the entire history of the beast tribe at this rate,” Stefan says.
“I will look forward to it, Stef.”
Fandom: FE10
Character/Pairing: Stefan/Mordecai, but really light/genish
Rating: G, sure.
A/N: kink meme request for Stefan/Mordecai fluff.
The sun rises over the desert and the desperate cold of the night gives to a pleasant coolness. It will be the only time when the day itself is bearable, and Stefan savors every morning. The rainy season will come soon, and for a fleeting second the desert will come alive with flowers and animals that had buried themselves beneath the ground and slept away their years.
Stefan raises his earthenware cup to his lips and drinks. The water tastes of sand. Everything tastes of sand here, whatever food that is ingested will have a gritty texture, even the heavy air tastes of roving sand that come up with every desert wind.
Stefan hears the sleeping figure begin to stir, but he does not turn. He does not know how long Mordecai will be there, and each time the thought of his leaving comes within his mind, it leaves a gritty, bitter aftertaste, much like the sand itself. Last night they had lain entwined and the cold had been kept at bay, but with each new morning he counts down the days until Mordecai will return to his people.
“Stef, good morning to you,” Mordecai says.
“I’ve made you some,” Stefan says.
“Thank you, Stef,” Mordecai rumbles. The cup is dwarfed in his enormous hands but he holds it as if it was some delicate china and not the poorly forged pot of their resident artisan. Perhaps if they had better materials, the work could be better, but Stefan knows this will never happen. They barely scrape to survive on their bitter lands, their home only because the rest of the world does not desire such a barren wasteland. Mordecai sits down beside him. Stefan feels the shade descend over him, and while no one would ever call him a ‘small’ man, he is compared to the tigers and lions he has seen.
Mordecai smiles even through the heat. “It is beautiful, this morning. Do you not think so, Stef?”
“Yes, it’s a nice sight indeed,” Stefan replies after a sip.
He is suspicious. When he had asked Mordecai to visit him, he always knew that Mordecai would go back to his people and the forests they inhabit. What would a desert have to offer but acridness and desolation? Even the closest of friends wouldn’t make such a sacrifice.
“I will not leave you, Stef,”
Stefan chuckles a harsh, bitter laugh. “I thought it was the Herons that read minds, not the beast tribe.”
“Mmm,” Mordecai rumbles. “But we of the beast tribe can smell an emotion as it comes. I am a beast tribe and I promised you that I would come. Now,
Stefan set down his cup beside him, uncaring for the moment just how much of the accursed sand blows into his tea.
“I can’t offer you anything here. It’s a wreck, everything here– crops won’t grow, the antelopes and hares are stringy and thin and the sand it gets into everything.”
Mordecai nodded slowly and leaned on his arm. “Ah yes, but the mornings, they are beautiful and the nights they have so many stars. I have not seen the rainstorms you have told me about. I could accustom myself to desert living.”
“If you’re so eager to martyr yourself I can hardly force you out. At least you’ll have plenty of time to tell me the entire history of the beast tribe at this rate,” Stefan says.
“I will look forward to it, Stef.”
