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rainbowfic2016-05-22 12:33 pm
wallwalker) wrote in rainbowfic2016-05-22 12:33 pm
Chestnut #1
Name: Wallwalker
Story: All's Fair in War and Confidence pt 1
Colors: Chestnut #1 (Wake)
Word Count: 1025
Rating: SFW
Warnings: No warnings apply
Notes: Opening a new story idea. Two unlikely grifters receive a message from their partner, who's trapped behind enemy lines.
Ricard stood on the deck of the tiny transport ship, watching the wake that spread out behind them. They were being as careful as they could, but they couldn't stop the water from revealing their passage for a short while.
He glanced up at the men above, their spyglasses sweeping the water behind the ship. The crew of this ship were the best at breaking blockades, the captain had assured them, and there was no way that they could followed without someone seeing it. They would be fine, and they'd get to the next port safely.
If Kel hadn't vouched for this ship and its crew, he never would've come on board. But he didn't have her connections with the city's underworld, and wouldn't know anything about which smugglers were trustworthy enough to keep a bargain. He was better with merchants, officials - not honest folk, but people who made a better show of honesty, at least. He knew how to see through their false fronts. Dealing with the openly dishonest was her talent.
He could hear Kel laughing with the captain, but he knew her well enough to know that her laughter didn't come from any actual happiness. She was talking to an old friend, and laughing was just what she did when she talked. As ways of coping went, it was probably better than his, he thought with a momentary smirk. Nothing could be gained by his display of aloofness, standing off by himself and staring at the water as if it would tell him anything. They would both have days before they could find out what was happening.
His smile quickly stretched into a long yawn. How long had he been awake? The sun had not yet been up when he'd rushed out of his house, shirt wrinkled and pants awkwardly tied around his waist by an old drapery tie, intent on finding Kel. He'd barely thought of anything else since then.
The news had arrived overnight, a formal invitation that had probably traveled for days to pass through the blockade around their port. He'd had to read it three times before he'd finally believed what it had said. It had been well-disguised; the envelope had been of fine Pervenche make, but the filigreed invitation inside was a Silvan style. He was one of the few in the city would would recognize both, since he'd grown up with a father who'd crafted and sold fine stationary.
Nothing from Silvani would have made it through the blockade, of course, no matter what it had been sent in. A soldier would've confiscated it and taken it to be checked for secret messages and codes, before burning it to ashes. No, it had obviously been sent via other means, perhaps on a ship much like this one.
Only dear Sandrine would've gone to so much trouble to send them such a message. She'd been testing the waters in Silvani when the trade blockades had begun, and since then their nations had been skirmishing on the water and waging war in all but name. They had been using every resource they had to find her, and they had both failed; neither Ricard's honest business contacts nor Kel's underworld connections could help them find her. In the best of all worlds, she was hiding, laying low in a country that would happily imprison her or worse if her true nationality were discovered. In the worst, well, he could not help but fear that the worst had already happened.
But she had to be alive now. Sandrine would not make a mistake after sending off such a letter. She was alive, and they were going to find her and get her out of that horrible country, and all would be well. He had to believe that.
Kel came to stand beside him. "We're makin' good time," she said.
"That's good. Thank you, Kel." He reached for her hand. "Now I just need to figure out our next move."
"Way ahead of you, Rick." She gave him a gap-toothed smile, but there was no cheer in her eyes. She'd been awake nearly as long as he had and had been running twice as fast, as per usual. "Got some friends outside of the city. They'll give us disguises and papers. Hope you've been practicing your Russi accent."
"I think that I can manage. How did you get that arranged so quickly?"
"Called in a favor." She didn't elaborate. Ricard had learned long ago that it was best not to ask her for details. "You're some rich merchant or another who managed to get ahold of an invite, and I'm your personal manservant who's sworn to silent service. Don't get used to it, though."
"No fear of that," he said, trying to smile.
Kel leaned in, resting her head on his shoulder. "She's gotta be fine," she said. "She's smart enough not to make a move like that unless she's sure she can pull it off. She'll probably be dancing when we find her, dressed as some pretty noble, and wonderin' what took us so long."
He wrapped an arm around her. She was shaking with the exhaustion, he could feel it. "I hope so," he said gently. "She always has a plan. We should sleep, for now; I doubt I'll make a very convincing guest if I'm about to fall asleep in the wine fountain."
"Ha! I dunno, Rick. That might be the perfect cover, depending on how strong -" But she yawned, obliterating the last sentence, and started tugging at his shirt. "Yeah, you're right. C'mon, they've got a cabin for us."
They leaned on each other as they made their way down below deck, only stumbling a bit. It still felt wrong, being there without Sandrine to keep them from pushing themselves too hard, but they were only a few nights away from where she was.
Of course, cover or no cover, they'd have to figure out some way to get all three of them back where they belonged. But he had no doubt that they would manage; they had always done their best work as a team.
Story: All's Fair in War and Confidence pt 1
Colors: Chestnut #1 (Wake)
Word Count: 1025
Rating: SFW
Warnings: No warnings apply
Notes: Opening a new story idea. Two unlikely grifters receive a message from their partner, who's trapped behind enemy lines.
Ricard stood on the deck of the tiny transport ship, watching the wake that spread out behind them. They were being as careful as they could, but they couldn't stop the water from revealing their passage for a short while.
He glanced up at the men above, their spyglasses sweeping the water behind the ship. The crew of this ship were the best at breaking blockades, the captain had assured them, and there was no way that they could followed without someone seeing it. They would be fine, and they'd get to the next port safely.
If Kel hadn't vouched for this ship and its crew, he never would've come on board. But he didn't have her connections with the city's underworld, and wouldn't know anything about which smugglers were trustworthy enough to keep a bargain. He was better with merchants, officials - not honest folk, but people who made a better show of honesty, at least. He knew how to see through their false fronts. Dealing with the openly dishonest was her talent.
He could hear Kel laughing with the captain, but he knew her well enough to know that her laughter didn't come from any actual happiness. She was talking to an old friend, and laughing was just what she did when she talked. As ways of coping went, it was probably better than his, he thought with a momentary smirk. Nothing could be gained by his display of aloofness, standing off by himself and staring at the water as if it would tell him anything. They would both have days before they could find out what was happening.
His smile quickly stretched into a long yawn. How long had he been awake? The sun had not yet been up when he'd rushed out of his house, shirt wrinkled and pants awkwardly tied around his waist by an old drapery tie, intent on finding Kel. He'd barely thought of anything else since then.
The news had arrived overnight, a formal invitation that had probably traveled for days to pass through the blockade around their port. He'd had to read it three times before he'd finally believed what it had said. It had been well-disguised; the envelope had been of fine Pervenche make, but the filigreed invitation inside was a Silvan style. He was one of the few in the city would would recognize both, since he'd grown up with a father who'd crafted and sold fine stationary.
Nothing from Silvani would have made it through the blockade, of course, no matter what it had been sent in. A soldier would've confiscated it and taken it to be checked for secret messages and codes, before burning it to ashes. No, it had obviously been sent via other means, perhaps on a ship much like this one.
Only dear Sandrine would've gone to so much trouble to send them such a message. She'd been testing the waters in Silvani when the trade blockades had begun, and since then their nations had been skirmishing on the water and waging war in all but name. They had been using every resource they had to find her, and they had both failed; neither Ricard's honest business contacts nor Kel's underworld connections could help them find her. In the best of all worlds, she was hiding, laying low in a country that would happily imprison her or worse if her true nationality were discovered. In the worst, well, he could not help but fear that the worst had already happened.
But she had to be alive now. Sandrine would not make a mistake after sending off such a letter. She was alive, and they were going to find her and get her out of that horrible country, and all would be well. He had to believe that.
Kel came to stand beside him. "We're makin' good time," she said.
"That's good. Thank you, Kel." He reached for her hand. "Now I just need to figure out our next move."
"Way ahead of you, Rick." She gave him a gap-toothed smile, but there was no cheer in her eyes. She'd been awake nearly as long as he had and had been running twice as fast, as per usual. "Got some friends outside of the city. They'll give us disguises and papers. Hope you've been practicing your Russi accent."
"I think that I can manage. How did you get that arranged so quickly?"
"Called in a favor." She didn't elaborate. Ricard had learned long ago that it was best not to ask her for details. "You're some rich merchant or another who managed to get ahold of an invite, and I'm your personal manservant who's sworn to silent service. Don't get used to it, though."
"No fear of that," he said, trying to smile.
Kel leaned in, resting her head on his shoulder. "She's gotta be fine," she said. "She's smart enough not to make a move like that unless she's sure she can pull it off. She'll probably be dancing when we find her, dressed as some pretty noble, and wonderin' what took us so long."
He wrapped an arm around her. She was shaking with the exhaustion, he could feel it. "I hope so," he said gently. "She always has a plan. We should sleep, for now; I doubt I'll make a very convincing guest if I'm about to fall asleep in the wine fountain."
"Ha! I dunno, Rick. That might be the perfect cover, depending on how strong -" But she yawned, obliterating the last sentence, and started tugging at his shirt. "Yeah, you're right. C'mon, they've got a cabin for us."
They leaned on each other as they made their way down below deck, only stumbling a bit. It still felt wrong, being there without Sandrine to keep them from pushing themselves too hard, but they were only a few nights away from where she was.
Of course, cover or no cover, they'd have to figure out some way to get all three of them back where they belonged. But he had no doubt that they would manage; they had always done their best work as a team.