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rainbowfic2015-07-31 06:35 pm
shadowsong26) wrote in rainbowfic2015-07-31 06:35 pm
French Grey #29, Octarine #23, Dragon Scale Green #5
Name: shadowsong26
Story: Achstelvry
'Verse: Feredar
Colors: French Grey #29. What one man can invent another can discover., Octarine #23. We've got a lot of experience of not having any experience., Dragon Scale Green #5. "Always speak politely to an enraged dragon." ― Steven Brust
Supplies and Materials: graffiti (duck gallery), eraser (Confessions AU), stain, glue ("Negotiations can be tricky business today.")
Word Count: 450
Rating: PG
Characters: Mel
Warnings: Don't think so.
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always. This takes place immediately after this.
Mel follows the woman with the iron-grey braid deeper into the jungle, along the banks of a narrowing creek that’s lit up by the occasional shaft of sunlight through the canopy.
That’s good--if this goes south, if he has to fight his way free and try to run for it, he can follow the stream back. Because there’s no way in hell he’ll be able to find his path through the forest otherwise. He had a hard enough time navigating the denser parts of the Islands at home, and he knew those jungles.
Of course, that easy, memorable path doesn’t last forever. After about two hours of walking, judging by the light on the water, Iron Braid stops, and turns to him.
She says something in her unfamiliar language and points to the west, then stops again, waiting for his reaction.
“…we’re goin’ away from the water?” he guesses, and points in the same direction she did, before taking a tentative step to add more evidence he understands--just the one, in case it might be read as a threat.
She blinks, then nods. Her eyes seem to smile a little, even if her mouth doesn’t--come to think of it, he hasn’t seen much obvious expression on any of her party; her people might be a stoic sort. He makes a note of that, to try and control his own expressions and not be offensive on accident.
Iron Braid then taps her chest, and says something that sounds a bit like, “Achstelvry.”
His turn to blink. “I…uh?”
She repeats the gesture, and the word, a little slower. “Achstelvry.”
“Achstelvry?” he repeats, then hesitates, and points to her. “Achstelvry?”
She nods.
Right. Could be a name, could be a title, but that seems to be what she wants him to call her. “Achstelvry,” he repeats again, getting used to the sound. He hesitates another breath, then taps his own chest and says, “Mel.” He can sort out titles later--she probably figured out he was in charge, at least of the landing group, same way he figured she was in charge of the welcoming party. And all his people are Artwick, of course, so giving his Clan name in this context won’t help and might just confuse her. Plenty of time to explain Clan and all later, once he and Achstlevry trade a few more words.
She blinks. “Mel?”
“Mel.”
“Mel.” She nods once, decisively, then turns to the left and moves further into the woods.
He takes a deep breath, and follows, doing his best to try and memorize bends and patterns in tree trunks and bark, and hoping that Achstelvry kept on as friendly as she seemed.
Story: Achstelvry
'Verse: Feredar
Colors: French Grey #29. What one man can invent another can discover., Octarine #23. We've got a lot of experience of not having any experience., Dragon Scale Green #5. "Always speak politely to an enraged dragon." ― Steven Brust
Supplies and Materials: graffiti (duck gallery), eraser (Confessions AU), stain, glue ("Negotiations can be tricky business today.")
Word Count: 450
Rating: PG
Characters: Mel
Warnings: Don't think so.
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always. This takes place immediately after this.
Mel follows the woman with the iron-grey braid deeper into the jungle, along the banks of a narrowing creek that’s lit up by the occasional shaft of sunlight through the canopy.
That’s good--if this goes south, if he has to fight his way free and try to run for it, he can follow the stream back. Because there’s no way in hell he’ll be able to find his path through the forest otherwise. He had a hard enough time navigating the denser parts of the Islands at home, and he knew those jungles.
Of course, that easy, memorable path doesn’t last forever. After about two hours of walking, judging by the light on the water, Iron Braid stops, and turns to him.
She says something in her unfamiliar language and points to the west, then stops again, waiting for his reaction.
“…we’re goin’ away from the water?” he guesses, and points in the same direction she did, before taking a tentative step to add more evidence he understands--just the one, in case it might be read as a threat.
She blinks, then nods. Her eyes seem to smile a little, even if her mouth doesn’t--come to think of it, he hasn’t seen much obvious expression on any of her party; her people might be a stoic sort. He makes a note of that, to try and control his own expressions and not be offensive on accident.
Iron Braid then taps her chest, and says something that sounds a bit like, “Achstelvry.”
His turn to blink. “I…uh?”
She repeats the gesture, and the word, a little slower. “Achstelvry.”
“Achstelvry?” he repeats, then hesitates, and points to her. “Achstelvry?”
She nods.
Right. Could be a name, could be a title, but that seems to be what she wants him to call her. “Achstelvry,” he repeats again, getting used to the sound. He hesitates another breath, then taps his own chest and says, “Mel.” He can sort out titles later--she probably figured out he was in charge, at least of the landing group, same way he figured she was in charge of the welcoming party. And all his people are Artwick, of course, so giving his Clan name in this context won’t help and might just confuse her. Plenty of time to explain Clan and all later, once he and Achstlevry trade a few more words.
She blinks. “Mel?”
“Mel.”
“Mel.” She nods once, decisively, then turns to the left and moves further into the woods.
He takes a deep breath, and follows, doing his best to try and memorize bends and patterns in tree trunks and bark, and hoping that Achstelvry kept on as friendly as she seemed.
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Yeah, he'll probably need it...hopefully he'll figure everything out..
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Yep. Gotta start somewhere...