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31_days2009-07-26 03:09 pm
seta-suzume.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2009-07-26 03:09 pm
[July 26][Original] Clinging
Title: Clinging
Day/Theme: July 26, 2009 "and if I am four words than I am needing of your love"
Series: Original
Character/Pairing: Bashir, Sola
Rating: G
Oh, there it was again. The longing. The childishness. The sudden inability to carry himself like a reasonably capable adult. "Mom," Bashir gasped, quivering like a dry leaf in winter.
From across the garden, Sola looked up at him. The timing was so precise it was almost as though she had heard. Maybe it was true what they said. That a mother just knows. Bashir blinked wildly to hold back the beginnings of tears with his eyelashes. Could he go to her or would that prove his breaking point? Ever since he had left the palace to take on the unwanted mantle of head inquisitor he had held that particular fear that his home- which really meant his mother- had become a trap. If he went back he would never leave again. He would bend and break and fall into the usual patterns. So there he was, in another tight spot. He didn't want to go forward or step back. He bit his lip and stayed where he was. Sola would have to make the next move on her own.
He was not forced to wait long (though he felt like he could've waited forever just to avoid making the choice for himself). "Bashir," she said, soft by sure, "You're here." She didn't say home. It was probably deliberate. They understood one another.
Sola lifted the hem on her fuchsia dress as she stepped across the green ground cover between the marigolds and berry vines to avoid any careless snags on the prickly thorns of the blackberry. She always finds it pulling at her trailing garments whenever she lets her guard down. The thorns are unexpectedly sharp and the vine has a tendency to take over the rest of the space if left unchecked. If they all left the palace for a few years and then came back, she imagined they would find it growing through all the windows and doorways as well as the gardens.
Though he was often forced to keep his distance from her, emotionally, Bashir was nearly as clinging. "I wasn't expecting you."
He pressed his teeth harder against his lower lip, allowing the sense of physical pressure to keep him on his toes. "I came to speak with-" There it was again. The gap he could never fill. Who was Blessed Ilekano to him? What way was there for him to speak of the man that could possibly explain the complicated relationship existing between them?
"Yes," Sola answered. He never had to fill that gap with her. She knew there was only one person he could mean- his stepfather, the older emperor, Ilekano Pel Silesia.
It was easier when he could speak of the man as though they were strangers. In that context, chatting aimlessly with Saselia and others, he had mostly used the least personal description- "the older emperor."
"I'm glad to see you looking well," his mother continued. Although the words were sincere, she didn't appear especially excited to see him.
Ah, so that was how things were. They were cool. She didn't come all the way through the garden to meet him on the other side. Perhaps she wanted to keep things that way. They understood one another. She knew he would break.
"I was just passing through this way to take a peek and see who was around," he tried to explain himself, "But I do have to see- well, you know. So, I'll go now."
"I love you," she told him. She said it so neutrally. They were both fighting the same battle.
"I love you too," Bashir answered. "Thank you."
Day/Theme: July 26, 2009 "and if I am four words than I am needing of your love"
Series: Original
Character/Pairing: Bashir, Sola
Rating: G
Oh, there it was again. The longing. The childishness. The sudden inability to carry himself like a reasonably capable adult. "Mom," Bashir gasped, quivering like a dry leaf in winter.
From across the garden, Sola looked up at him. The timing was so precise it was almost as though she had heard. Maybe it was true what they said. That a mother just knows. Bashir blinked wildly to hold back the beginnings of tears with his eyelashes. Could he go to her or would that prove his breaking point? Ever since he had left the palace to take on the unwanted mantle of head inquisitor he had held that particular fear that his home- which really meant his mother- had become a trap. If he went back he would never leave again. He would bend and break and fall into the usual patterns. So there he was, in another tight spot. He didn't want to go forward or step back. He bit his lip and stayed where he was. Sola would have to make the next move on her own.
He was not forced to wait long (though he felt like he could've waited forever just to avoid making the choice for himself). "Bashir," she said, soft by sure, "You're here." She didn't say home. It was probably deliberate. They understood one another.
Sola lifted the hem on her fuchsia dress as she stepped across the green ground cover between the marigolds and berry vines to avoid any careless snags on the prickly thorns of the blackberry. She always finds it pulling at her trailing garments whenever she lets her guard down. The thorns are unexpectedly sharp and the vine has a tendency to take over the rest of the space if left unchecked. If they all left the palace for a few years and then came back, she imagined they would find it growing through all the windows and doorways as well as the gardens.
Though he was often forced to keep his distance from her, emotionally, Bashir was nearly as clinging. "I wasn't expecting you."
He pressed his teeth harder against his lower lip, allowing the sense of physical pressure to keep him on his toes. "I came to speak with-" There it was again. The gap he could never fill. Who was Blessed Ilekano to him? What way was there for him to speak of the man that could possibly explain the complicated relationship existing between them?
"Yes," Sola answered. He never had to fill that gap with her. She knew there was only one person he could mean- his stepfather, the older emperor, Ilekano Pel Silesia.
It was easier when he could speak of the man as though they were strangers. In that context, chatting aimlessly with Saselia and others, he had mostly used the least personal description- "the older emperor."
"I'm glad to see you looking well," his mother continued. Although the words were sincere, she didn't appear especially excited to see him.
Ah, so that was how things were. They were cool. She didn't come all the way through the garden to meet him on the other side. Perhaps she wanted to keep things that way. They understood one another. She knew he would break.
"I was just passing through this way to take a peek and see who was around," he tried to explain himself, "But I do have to see- well, you know. So, I'll go now."
"I love you," she told him. She said it so neutrally. They were both fighting the same battle.
"I love you too," Bashir answered. "Thank you."