Music Meme
May. 16th, 2010 12:59 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mindsplintersSo tonight there was a meme war fought bravely by Kol, Sage, and myself. These were the battle lines...
1.Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like. I'm using whichever char inspires me.
2. Turn on your music player PLAYLIST OF DOOM and put it on random/shuffle.
3. Write a drabble related to each song that plays. You only have the time frame of the song to finish the drabble; you start when the song starts, and stop when it's over. No lingering afterwards!
4. Do ten of these, then post them.
We each contributed a handful of songs to make a mega-playlist. The results were interesting.
1. Summersong - The Decemberists
Carefully folding the fresh linens from the line, Adelaide reflected how things had changed and would continue to change. It was a bittersweet sort of realization, she supposed. Over the years, fortunes had been found and lost and brothers gone rogue and returned home prodigal sons and better halves grown into new selves. She crouched to set the neatly folded sheet into the basket. Years ago, she would never have dreamed of doing such a homely chore herself; that was what servants were for, after all. Now, though, there was a sort of sweet serenity in it. It lent control to your life if you could do your own laundry.
That brought a laugh to her lips and she shut her eyes fully after standing. Tilting her chin upwards, she felt the summer sun on her face and the tang of salt from the distant bay. A hand settled onto her shoulder and she turned. Alex smiled at her and she laughed. Just behind him, she saw Bart helping Jess down from the porch. Yes, things had changed but this was a nice sort of future to live within.
2. All Souls Night - Loreena McKennitt
Her head felt funny and she wondered briefly if she had finally found her uppermost limit for alcohol intake. The thought made her giggle and she lifted her hands to push back her silky hair, expertly dyed strands shading from deep green to her natural silver slipping through her long fingers at the movement. She tilted her head back and inhaled. "What's that?" she murmured.
Chiron coughed and shook his head, waving a hand absently to dissipate the smoke before returning to pick up his twisting glass. "Incense. Elswyth is into playing at being a hippie now. It's gonna give her a headache and..." He trailed off and cocked his head to watch Emmy stand on unsteady legs. "Chica?" he asked mildly. He had seen her swallow far more booze than she'd had tonight before.
Lifting her hands above her head, Emmy gave a little shake of her hips and then, kicking off her shoes, began to move. Her silver eyes were half-closed and a look of serenity rested in her expression. She felt lighter, a bubble batted on the breeze. Her feet began to trace patterns on the old, rough floor. First around and then back, to the side and forward. Figure eights and loops. The dances of her mother. It resonated with the air tonight and, drawn by the oldest tunes that she could not ignore, she moved.
3. Trains - Porcupine Tree
The summer he was sixteen, they stayed for two whole months in a motel that backed out on a train track. He would wander out there sometimes, just for a bit of peace and quiet. Sammy was starting to hit puberty and it was quickly turning into a joke. He didn't remember being so bitchy when he was twelve, thirteen, whatever. Then again, he had been given his first gun around that time. It was hard to be a kid when you were loading salt-filled shotgun shells.
The train track had another good point to it, in the end. That's where he met her. She was about his age, maybe a bit older. It was hard to tell and she would just smile if he ever asked. Her hair got tangled up in his fingers and her lips tasted like strawberry Chapstick when they tested how their mouths moved together. Her laugh echoed off the tracks and muffled in the trees surrounding. They'd sit on the overpass, legs dangling, and not say a word for hours until she would suddenly turn to him and ask the time or his middle name or if he liked Pop Rocks.
One night, he brought a few beers with him and they watched the sun set and he slipped and told her that his mom was dead. She was quiet for long moments and then took a beer and kissed him and said that at least he wasn't. He thought that should piss him off but it only made him laugh and he pushed the bottles to the tracks below, not even listening for the crash as they hit the gravel. He was too busy reaching for her, hands in a rush up her shirt and pulling her against his toughening body. She came willingly, her own fingers busy on the fly of his jeans.
He never did learn her full name but sometimes, now, he thought about Laura and grinned.
4. Song for Whoever - Beautiful South
Warren looked at Bjorn blankly. "Excuse me?" he drawled after a moment. It was a rare but necessary talent for a royal, hiding the sudden panic caused by a question, something he was honing to great effect with his current traveling companion. "I think I misheard what you said."
Bjorn never budged in the face of Warren's skills, though, and merely continued to regard him with the placid look of a very slow puppy. "I asked who Ginevra was," he repeated.
If there was any warning to the words, Warren missed them totally in his fast-moving attempt to create a suitable answer. "She was a lady at the court," he supplied. "A charming young woman with a fondness for the lute if I remember."
"How well do you remember?"
"Do you know her, too?"
Bjorn shook his head and there was a strange, sudden darkness to his expression. "Not nearly as well as you did, I'm sure," he answered, tone never changing. "Warren, are all princes like you?"
This was an easier question. Warren drew himself up proudly, smiling thinly. "Not at all. I'm far above most and that is a fact."
"Oh. That's good." Bjorn turned back to stoke the fire. "Because I would hate if all princesses had to marry princes who came with a retinue of Ginevra, Phillipa, Candice, Teresita..."
Warren felt his face redden and wondered just how bribable his fellow Knight was.
5. Giving Up Everything For Your Love - Delerious
With a scowl, Nate found himself wandering into the practice room and decided to compare himself to a dying elephant, heading for familiar grounds. God, he was going to strangle Cecil if things kept up this way. He couldn't handle this sort of... He drew up short, seeing the room already occupied.
The moment he realized it was just Marcus, tooling around on his acoustic guitar, though, he relaxed and strolled onwards. The scowl faded in the face of Marcus' vaguely owlish blink and then slow smile. He shrugged, hands out. "Cecil," he said simply.
"Ah, yeah. Gotcha. He's in one of those, um, moods." Marcus tested a new chord and then nodded in the direction of a couch. "What's he doing now?"
Nate flopped down, shaking the furniture with his lean weight, and stretched out his long legs. He rolled his eyes. "He thinks we're hurting the band's image."
Marcus blinked again behind his glasses. "Huh?" He absently adjusted his fingers again. "With the new songs?"
"With Dusti and Deona."
That caught the other man's attention and Marcus set down his guitar with a puzzled look. "What's that?"
"He thinks we're getting less fans because we're taken. We're off the market."
Marcus stared for a moment and then his own scowl started. "I think that's kinda bullshit," he muttered. "We have fans because of our music."
"Nope, Cecil insists our cache is increased by how you look in your damn khakis."
"And you in your tight black jeans?"
"You noticed? Oh, Marcus." Nate fluttered his eyelashes for a moment coyly. Then he sobered. "I call bullshit, yeah."
Solemnly, the guitarist stood and shook out his hands. "Then I guess it's time to quit the band, huh?"
Nate sat upright and stared. "Come again?"
"Well, if it's dump our girlfriends to stay with Love Assault..." He shrugged. "You always wanted to introduce the mandolin, right? We can try something new."
"... You're serious." Suddenly, a weight lifted from his chest and Nate scrambled to his feet, laughing. Crossing the room, he delivered a noogie to Marcus' already messy hair. "Yeah, sure. Let's go do a duet, man. We already have our groupies." The two started out of the room.
"Of course, if Cecil apologizes, we have to forgive him and stay."
"Only after I call him an asshole and maybe punch him."
Marcus grinned. "Fair enough."
6. Rehab - Rihana
Tasha watched the cigarette burn down, nearly reaching her fingers, and wondered when she had lit it. She couldn't remember. She couldn't remember much of anything anymore. Things had started to blur at the edges and she smiled grimly. Then she drew another cigarette from the pack and lit it from the dying butt, end to end with shaking hands. Her eyes closed on the first inhale and she held the smoke until she felt it filling her.
She reopened her eyes and crushed the used cigarette into the ashtray. The same hand then reached out and drew the shot glass to her. She tapped it once, twice on the bar. "Another," she demanded.
"I think you've had enough, ma'am."
Narrowed crimson eyes stared up at the bartender and her mouth was a hard line. "I'll tell you when I've had enough," she hissed. "Just pour."
She had some happy memories to kill, some pain to drown. She needed a good night's sleep and that would never arrive if she was sober. If any inch of her brain could form coherent thought, she knew she would see Dusty's body again - broken, bleeding, lifeless - and her own hands slick with red that couldn't save him.
7. Don't Wake Me Up - The Hush Sound
She felt the rain and watched in horror as it turned the thick redness to pale, watery pink. She screamed. What else could she do? It was all over, bodies surrounded her. He was the last to fall and she had been mere inches from him but still not fast enough to intercept the flying debris or the swinging blade.
"Tasha! Baby, wake up!"
She came to with a gasp, sweat drenching her until she felt clammy and sick to her stomach. Rolling over with a choked noise, she hung her head over the edge of the mattress. She dry-heaved for a moment and did not even have a spare thought towards making a mess on her floor. The warm hand at her back, though, managed to freeze the shakes and she screwed her eyes shut tightly. "D-Dusty?" she asked weakly, terrified that it would be just another dream.
He drew her upright carefully and brought her into his strong arms. He kissed the top of her head. "Baby, shush, it's okay. I'm right here."
Weak as a kitten, she curled into him and buried her face against his shoulder. The tears hadn't quite come this time but the horror clung to her. "I... Oh, god, Dusty," she whispered in a raw, aching voice. "The dream again. He put that fucking dream in my head and it won't leave."
Gripping her tighter, Dusty pressed his lips together in a tight line. He said nothing until her breathing started to slow. Then he kissed her hair again. "Tell me about it?" he prompted.
"I'm going to kill that bastard Rufus." She inhaled deeply, oblivious to the non sequitor, and lifted her head to meet his eyes. "He's not allowed to make me think about losing you. I'm going to kill him."
Dusty paused and kissed her forehead. "Not if I get to him first, Tasha," he whispered.
8. Evil Night Together - Jill Tracy
Vaiko smoothed her hair back and again knotted the leather laces around the thick ponytail until it hung down her neck in a stiff weight. Then she considered the array of make-up and accessories on the table before her. "I can't say," she announced, "but I think make-up might be a bit overdone."
"Oh, come now. Vaness went to all the trouble of donating it." Pwyll came up beside her but his own expression showed his misgivings. "I don't think I'm aware of how to use half of these things."
"Neither am I." Which wasn't quite a lie. The last time she had worn make-up was back on Adonis and those were days she liked best to forget. Dubiously, she picked up a stick of kohl and offered it to the man on her other side. "You go ahead, Roi," she offered with a sort of wicked cheerfulness. "You're the performer. Surely you know how to use this muck."
"Me? Why me?" The musician did his best to look offended for a moment and then he sighed and took it from her. "Turn to face me," he ordered. "Honestly, I don't know how we got into this in the first place. It seems so... strange to be dressing like women." Holding Vaiko's chin in one calloused hand, he angled her so he could study her strange, pale eyes. "We're men."
She bit the inside of her lower lip, fighting the smile. "Oh, yes," she agreed mildly. "We're absolutely masculine specimens."
9. Day of Rain - Thriving Ivory
She knew what came next in stories like this. The compromised girl would be left behind, ruined for anything respectable thereafter. She smiled to herself and bade guilt goodbye. She did what she had to do to get what she wanted. She was not a normal sort of story, anyway.
Her aunt would be cross beyond all words and there were chances of her being disowned but she did not worry overmuch on the thought. As an only child, she had always been given a sort of leash longer than others. Natasha sighed and curled more firmly into the solid, warm body beside hers in the scratchy hay. Her small hand traced under his loosened shirt again; she simply could not stop touching him and wondered how she would manage when he had to button up everything once more.
"Princess."
His voice was a low, concerned rumble that she felt in her head and against her cheek pressed to his shoulder. "Hmm?"
"I..." He took a deep breath. "I must apologize. I should never have... That is, this was unbecoming a soldier and I fear I have..."
Her mouth sealed over his to stop his words and the sound of rain on the stable's roof was the only noise for long moments. Drawing back, she smiled at him in a most pleased, smug manner. "If that was unbecoming a soldier, my dear Sergeant-Major, then I will have to insist you do it again and do it properly."
He stared at her, blinking, and then broke into a grin that could have defeated the clouds outside. He drew her closer, shifting her slim form until he could draw the edges of his coat from beneath her and around for additional warmth. "I am beginning to think you've had this in mind for a while, Natasha."
Laughing, she walked her fingers up his chest further and stretched until she could kiss the underside of his jaw. "Since my coming-out ball, darling. I think I've been remarkably patient."
"I think you've been remarkably wicked."
"Mmm." She closed her eyes and cuddled in once more. "Perhaps but are you truly complaining?" Feeling his arms close tighter, she knew the answer and smiled into his chest.
10. Closer, Lullaby rendition of NIN
"They're at it again."
Notch turned to watch the approaching Foxtail, his head cocked to one side like a curious bird. "What's that, kitling?"
Foxtail grinned before rolling her eyes and pointing back the way she had come. His gaze followed the direction and he correctly guessed it was Goldspice's forge. Then he looked back to her with raised eyebrows. **Goldspice and Moss.**
The blank look remained and she huffed, annoyed now. Picking up her pace, she all but skipped to him and threw herself down to the ground beside him, leaning against his shoulder. "I went to pick up a piece," she explained. "I wanted something pretty and I traded for a carved bit of amber and..." Noticing his growing amusement, she giggled and shifted away to push at his shoulder. "Anyway," she continued, "I went to get it from Goldspice and I can tell you that not a lick of anything is getting done today." A warm, heady impression of naked flesh and sweat and forge-fire drifted to him.
**Oh, I think something is getting licked.** His return was full of muffled laughter and a similar but different scene.
**Jealous?** Foxtail abruptly shifted to sling one leg over his and settled onto his lap. She gave a little wiggle to better fit their bodies together, hip to hip. Her arms settled around his neck and she leaned in to deliver a lingering lick up the edge of his ear. She paused to nibble the injury that gave him his name. **I'll have to find something to do now. Any ideas?**
His grin was just as wicked as hers and he knew how the rest of the night was about to go. Life was good.
1.
2. Turn on your music player PLAYLIST OF DOOM and put it on random/shuffle.
3. Write a drabble related to each song that plays. You only have the time frame of the song to finish the drabble; you start when the song starts, and stop when it's over. No lingering afterwards!
4. Do ten of these, then post them.
We each contributed a handful of songs to make a mega-playlist. The results were interesting.
1. Summersong - The Decemberists
Carefully folding the fresh linens from the line, Adelaide reflected how things had changed and would continue to change. It was a bittersweet sort of realization, she supposed. Over the years, fortunes had been found and lost and brothers gone rogue and returned home prodigal sons and better halves grown into new selves. She crouched to set the neatly folded sheet into the basket. Years ago, she would never have dreamed of doing such a homely chore herself; that was what servants were for, after all. Now, though, there was a sort of sweet serenity in it. It lent control to your life if you could do your own laundry.
That brought a laugh to her lips and she shut her eyes fully after standing. Tilting her chin upwards, she felt the summer sun on her face and the tang of salt from the distant bay. A hand settled onto her shoulder and she turned. Alex smiled at her and she laughed. Just behind him, she saw Bart helping Jess down from the porch. Yes, things had changed but this was a nice sort of future to live within.
2. All Souls Night - Loreena McKennitt
Her head felt funny and she wondered briefly if she had finally found her uppermost limit for alcohol intake. The thought made her giggle and she lifted her hands to push back her silky hair, expertly dyed strands shading from deep green to her natural silver slipping through her long fingers at the movement. She tilted her head back and inhaled. "What's that?" she murmured.
Chiron coughed and shook his head, waving a hand absently to dissipate the smoke before returning to pick up his twisting glass. "Incense. Elswyth is into playing at being a hippie now. It's gonna give her a headache and..." He trailed off and cocked his head to watch Emmy stand on unsteady legs. "Chica?" he asked mildly. He had seen her swallow far more booze than she'd had tonight before.
Lifting her hands above her head, Emmy gave a little shake of her hips and then, kicking off her shoes, began to move. Her silver eyes were half-closed and a look of serenity rested in her expression. She felt lighter, a bubble batted on the breeze. Her feet began to trace patterns on the old, rough floor. First around and then back, to the side and forward. Figure eights and loops. The dances of her mother. It resonated with the air tonight and, drawn by the oldest tunes that she could not ignore, she moved.
3. Trains - Porcupine Tree
The summer he was sixteen, they stayed for two whole months in a motel that backed out on a train track. He would wander out there sometimes, just for a bit of peace and quiet. Sammy was starting to hit puberty and it was quickly turning into a joke. He didn't remember being so bitchy when he was twelve, thirteen, whatever. Then again, he had been given his first gun around that time. It was hard to be a kid when you were loading salt-filled shotgun shells.
The train track had another good point to it, in the end. That's where he met her. She was about his age, maybe a bit older. It was hard to tell and she would just smile if he ever asked. Her hair got tangled up in his fingers and her lips tasted like strawberry Chapstick when they tested how their mouths moved together. Her laugh echoed off the tracks and muffled in the trees surrounding. They'd sit on the overpass, legs dangling, and not say a word for hours until she would suddenly turn to him and ask the time or his middle name or if he liked Pop Rocks.
One night, he brought a few beers with him and they watched the sun set and he slipped and told her that his mom was dead. She was quiet for long moments and then took a beer and kissed him and said that at least he wasn't. He thought that should piss him off but it only made him laugh and he pushed the bottles to the tracks below, not even listening for the crash as they hit the gravel. He was too busy reaching for her, hands in a rush up her shirt and pulling her against his toughening body. She came willingly, her own fingers busy on the fly of his jeans.
He never did learn her full name but sometimes, now, he thought about Laura and grinned.
4. Song for Whoever - Beautiful South
Warren looked at Bjorn blankly. "Excuse me?" he drawled after a moment. It was a rare but necessary talent for a royal, hiding the sudden panic caused by a question, something he was honing to great effect with his current traveling companion. "I think I misheard what you said."
Bjorn never budged in the face of Warren's skills, though, and merely continued to regard him with the placid look of a very slow puppy. "I asked who Ginevra was," he repeated.
If there was any warning to the words, Warren missed them totally in his fast-moving attempt to create a suitable answer. "She was a lady at the court," he supplied. "A charming young woman with a fondness for the lute if I remember."
"How well do you remember?"
"Do you know her, too?"
Bjorn shook his head and there was a strange, sudden darkness to his expression. "Not nearly as well as you did, I'm sure," he answered, tone never changing. "Warren, are all princes like you?"
This was an easier question. Warren drew himself up proudly, smiling thinly. "Not at all. I'm far above most and that is a fact."
"Oh. That's good." Bjorn turned back to stoke the fire. "Because I would hate if all princesses had to marry princes who came with a retinue of Ginevra, Phillipa, Candice, Teresita..."
Warren felt his face redden and wondered just how bribable his fellow Knight was.
5. Giving Up Everything For Your Love - Delerious
With a scowl, Nate found himself wandering into the practice room and decided to compare himself to a dying elephant, heading for familiar grounds. God, he was going to strangle Cecil if things kept up this way. He couldn't handle this sort of... He drew up short, seeing the room already occupied.
The moment he realized it was just Marcus, tooling around on his acoustic guitar, though, he relaxed and strolled onwards. The scowl faded in the face of Marcus' vaguely owlish blink and then slow smile. He shrugged, hands out. "Cecil," he said simply.
"Ah, yeah. Gotcha. He's in one of those, um, moods." Marcus tested a new chord and then nodded in the direction of a couch. "What's he doing now?"
Nate flopped down, shaking the furniture with his lean weight, and stretched out his long legs. He rolled his eyes. "He thinks we're hurting the band's image."
Marcus blinked again behind his glasses. "Huh?" He absently adjusted his fingers again. "With the new songs?"
"With Dusti and Deona."
That caught the other man's attention and Marcus set down his guitar with a puzzled look. "What's that?"
"He thinks we're getting less fans because we're taken. We're off the market."
Marcus stared for a moment and then his own scowl started. "I think that's kinda bullshit," he muttered. "We have fans because of our music."
"Nope, Cecil insists our cache is increased by how you look in your damn khakis."
"And you in your tight black jeans?"
"You noticed? Oh, Marcus." Nate fluttered his eyelashes for a moment coyly. Then he sobered. "I call bullshit, yeah."
Solemnly, the guitarist stood and shook out his hands. "Then I guess it's time to quit the band, huh?"
Nate sat upright and stared. "Come again?"
"Well, if it's dump our girlfriends to stay with Love Assault..." He shrugged. "You always wanted to introduce the mandolin, right? We can try something new."
"... You're serious." Suddenly, a weight lifted from his chest and Nate scrambled to his feet, laughing. Crossing the room, he delivered a noogie to Marcus' already messy hair. "Yeah, sure. Let's go do a duet, man. We already have our groupies." The two started out of the room.
"Of course, if Cecil apologizes, we have to forgive him and stay."
"Only after I call him an asshole and maybe punch him."
Marcus grinned. "Fair enough."
6. Rehab - Rihana
Tasha watched the cigarette burn down, nearly reaching her fingers, and wondered when she had lit it. She couldn't remember. She couldn't remember much of anything anymore. Things had started to blur at the edges and she smiled grimly. Then she drew another cigarette from the pack and lit it from the dying butt, end to end with shaking hands. Her eyes closed on the first inhale and she held the smoke until she felt it filling her.
She reopened her eyes and crushed the used cigarette into the ashtray. The same hand then reached out and drew the shot glass to her. She tapped it once, twice on the bar. "Another," she demanded.
"I think you've had enough, ma'am."
Narrowed crimson eyes stared up at the bartender and her mouth was a hard line. "I'll tell you when I've had enough," she hissed. "Just pour."
She had some happy memories to kill, some pain to drown. She needed a good night's sleep and that would never arrive if she was sober. If any inch of her brain could form coherent thought, she knew she would see Dusty's body again - broken, bleeding, lifeless - and her own hands slick with red that couldn't save him.
7. Don't Wake Me Up - The Hush Sound
She felt the rain and watched in horror as it turned the thick redness to pale, watery pink. She screamed. What else could she do? It was all over, bodies surrounded her. He was the last to fall and she had been mere inches from him but still not fast enough to intercept the flying debris or the swinging blade.
"Tasha! Baby, wake up!"
She came to with a gasp, sweat drenching her until she felt clammy and sick to her stomach. Rolling over with a choked noise, she hung her head over the edge of the mattress. She dry-heaved for a moment and did not even have a spare thought towards making a mess on her floor. The warm hand at her back, though, managed to freeze the shakes and she screwed her eyes shut tightly. "D-Dusty?" she asked weakly, terrified that it would be just another dream.
He drew her upright carefully and brought her into his strong arms. He kissed the top of her head. "Baby, shush, it's okay. I'm right here."
Weak as a kitten, she curled into him and buried her face against his shoulder. The tears hadn't quite come this time but the horror clung to her. "I... Oh, god, Dusty," she whispered in a raw, aching voice. "The dream again. He put that fucking dream in my head and it won't leave."
Gripping her tighter, Dusty pressed his lips together in a tight line. He said nothing until her breathing started to slow. Then he kissed her hair again. "Tell me about it?" he prompted.
"I'm going to kill that bastard Rufus." She inhaled deeply, oblivious to the non sequitor, and lifted her head to meet his eyes. "He's not allowed to make me think about losing you. I'm going to kill him."
Dusty paused and kissed her forehead. "Not if I get to him first, Tasha," he whispered.
8. Evil Night Together - Jill Tracy
Vaiko smoothed her hair back and again knotted the leather laces around the thick ponytail until it hung down her neck in a stiff weight. Then she considered the array of make-up and accessories on the table before her. "I can't say," she announced, "but I think make-up might be a bit overdone."
"Oh, come now. Vaness went to all the trouble of donating it." Pwyll came up beside her but his own expression showed his misgivings. "I don't think I'm aware of how to use half of these things."
"Neither am I." Which wasn't quite a lie. The last time she had worn make-up was back on Adonis and those were days she liked best to forget. Dubiously, she picked up a stick of kohl and offered it to the man on her other side. "You go ahead, Roi," she offered with a sort of wicked cheerfulness. "You're the performer. Surely you know how to use this muck."
"Me? Why me?" The musician did his best to look offended for a moment and then he sighed and took it from her. "Turn to face me," he ordered. "Honestly, I don't know how we got into this in the first place. It seems so... strange to be dressing like women." Holding Vaiko's chin in one calloused hand, he angled her so he could study her strange, pale eyes. "We're men."
She bit the inside of her lower lip, fighting the smile. "Oh, yes," she agreed mildly. "We're absolutely masculine specimens."
9. Day of Rain - Thriving Ivory
She knew what came next in stories like this. The compromised girl would be left behind, ruined for anything respectable thereafter. She smiled to herself and bade guilt goodbye. She did what she had to do to get what she wanted. She was not a normal sort of story, anyway.
Her aunt would be cross beyond all words and there were chances of her being disowned but she did not worry overmuch on the thought. As an only child, she had always been given a sort of leash longer than others. Natasha sighed and curled more firmly into the solid, warm body beside hers in the scratchy hay. Her small hand traced under his loosened shirt again; she simply could not stop touching him and wondered how she would manage when he had to button up everything once more.
"Princess."
His voice was a low, concerned rumble that she felt in her head and against her cheek pressed to his shoulder. "Hmm?"
"I..." He took a deep breath. "I must apologize. I should never have... That is, this was unbecoming a soldier and I fear I have..."
Her mouth sealed over his to stop his words and the sound of rain on the stable's roof was the only noise for long moments. Drawing back, she smiled at him in a most pleased, smug manner. "If that was unbecoming a soldier, my dear Sergeant-Major, then I will have to insist you do it again and do it properly."
He stared at her, blinking, and then broke into a grin that could have defeated the clouds outside. He drew her closer, shifting her slim form until he could draw the edges of his coat from beneath her and around for additional warmth. "I am beginning to think you've had this in mind for a while, Natasha."
Laughing, she walked her fingers up his chest further and stretched until she could kiss the underside of his jaw. "Since my coming-out ball, darling. I think I've been remarkably patient."
"I think you've been remarkably wicked."
"Mmm." She closed her eyes and cuddled in once more. "Perhaps but are you truly complaining?" Feeling his arms close tighter, she knew the answer and smiled into his chest.
10. Closer, Lullaby rendition of NIN
"They're at it again."
Notch turned to watch the approaching Foxtail, his head cocked to one side like a curious bird. "What's that, kitling?"
Foxtail grinned before rolling her eyes and pointing back the way she had come. His gaze followed the direction and he correctly guessed it was Goldspice's forge. Then he looked back to her with raised eyebrows. **Goldspice and Moss.**
The blank look remained and she huffed, annoyed now. Picking up her pace, she all but skipped to him and threw herself down to the ground beside him, leaning against his shoulder. "I went to pick up a piece," she explained. "I wanted something pretty and I traded for a carved bit of amber and..." Noticing his growing amusement, she giggled and shifted away to push at his shoulder. "Anyway," she continued, "I went to get it from Goldspice and I can tell you that not a lick of anything is getting done today." A warm, heady impression of naked flesh and sweat and forge-fire drifted to him.
**Oh, I think something is getting licked.** His return was full of muffled laughter and a similar but different scene.
**Jealous?** Foxtail abruptly shifted to sling one leg over his and settled onto his lap. She gave a little wiggle to better fit their bodies together, hip to hip. Her arms settled around his neck and she leaned in to deliver a lingering lick up the edge of his ear. She paused to nibble the injury that gave him his name. **I'll have to find something to do now. Any ideas?**
His grin was just as wicked as hers and he knew how the rest of the night was about to go. Life was good.
