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31_days2009-09-01 12:41 pm
seta-suzume.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2009-09-01 12:41 pm
[Sept. 1][Original] Reminders of Paths Unwalked
Title: Reminders of Paths Unwalked
Day/Theme: Sept. 1, 2009 "a clumsy ersatz angel"
Series: Original
Character/Pairing: Bashir, Saselia, Fado(->Sola), Simcha
Rating: PG
"Ah!" Bashir stumbled over an embarrassingly small pebble in the road. Had it not been for the walking stick in his hand, he probably would've fallen flat on his face. As it was, he still managed to look terribly clumsy in front of two old women and a dog, who began barking loudly as he stumbled.
"Are you okay?" Saselia, Simcha, and Fado all turned at various speeds to see what the problem was.
Bashir swayed slightly, like a leaf in the breeze, before getting both of his feet back firmly on the ground. It had been such a little thing, but he still felt dazed, as if the large reactions had inflated it to grand proportions. He was beginning to wonder if it was possible for anyone to be a worse candidate than him for an undercover mission. "I tripped," he confessed, a deep crimson blush spreading through the rough tan of his cheeks.
Sola Av Shirin had grace that her son did not possess, but Fado could see something of her in this son of hers. The hair certainly, although Bashir's was darker than his mother's, but mostly things of a more ethereal nature, the way he seemed so content to remain focused on whatever mysterious thoughts crowded his own mind, for instance. His posture was like hers too, a straight back and drooping shoulders.
Fado didn't recall Bashir having been so feminine in his appearance when he was a child. Most of it must have been a result of following the fashions of the capital to braid and loop his hair up. He had looked more boyish back when Fado had still served Ilekano, although he had been a crybaby.
Or perhaps the change hadn't been so great as he thought, but he was merely allowing his mind to make up whatever conclusions he wished to come to in advance. He was just remembering Sola favorably. She had been a very beautiful woman. ...She probably still was. ...If he had met her before Ilekano had... If the opportunity to make a deal with that delicate lady had been his...
He clenched his fist and looked away from Bashir. He shouldn't be thinking that way. There was no way to change the past. He and Simcha had discussed these things long ago. They both had their regrets in life, but they had chosen together to go on without dwelling on them. Chances he could've taken but had not were only a distraction from the asceticism he was trying to apply himself to diligently. He was not so good a man as he looked to be. He was just another lost soul, trying as hard as he could.
"Slow down there, Fado!" Simcha laughed, unaware of his gloomy thinking as he sprinted to catch up to his friend.
Mulling over these things, Fado had continued on without even noticing what he was doing. He looked back to see Saselia and Bashir far behind. Trying to work out the complexities of his feelings he had returned to the quick military pace so thoroughly ground into him. "I'm sorry," he apologize, slowing to a halt.
Day/Theme: Sept. 1, 2009 "a clumsy ersatz angel"
Series: Original
Character/Pairing: Bashir, Saselia, Fado(->Sola), Simcha
Rating: PG
"Ah!" Bashir stumbled over an embarrassingly small pebble in the road. Had it not been for the walking stick in his hand, he probably would've fallen flat on his face. As it was, he still managed to look terribly clumsy in front of two old women and a dog, who began barking loudly as he stumbled.
"Are you okay?" Saselia, Simcha, and Fado all turned at various speeds to see what the problem was.
Bashir swayed slightly, like a leaf in the breeze, before getting both of his feet back firmly on the ground. It had been such a little thing, but he still felt dazed, as if the large reactions had inflated it to grand proportions. He was beginning to wonder if it was possible for anyone to be a worse candidate than him for an undercover mission. "I tripped," he confessed, a deep crimson blush spreading through the rough tan of his cheeks.
Sola Av Shirin had grace that her son did not possess, but Fado could see something of her in this son of hers. The hair certainly, although Bashir's was darker than his mother's, but mostly things of a more ethereal nature, the way he seemed so content to remain focused on whatever mysterious thoughts crowded his own mind, for instance. His posture was like hers too, a straight back and drooping shoulders.
Fado didn't recall Bashir having been so feminine in his appearance when he was a child. Most of it must have been a result of following the fashions of the capital to braid and loop his hair up. He had looked more boyish back when Fado had still served Ilekano, although he had been a crybaby.
Or perhaps the change hadn't been so great as he thought, but he was merely allowing his mind to make up whatever conclusions he wished to come to in advance. He was just remembering Sola favorably. She had been a very beautiful woman. ...She probably still was. ...If he had met her before Ilekano had... If the opportunity to make a deal with that delicate lady had been his...
He clenched his fist and looked away from Bashir. He shouldn't be thinking that way. There was no way to change the past. He and Simcha had discussed these things long ago. They both had their regrets in life, but they had chosen together to go on without dwelling on them. Chances he could've taken but had not were only a distraction from the asceticism he was trying to apply himself to diligently. He was not so good a man as he looked to be. He was just another lost soul, trying as hard as he could.
"Slow down there, Fado!" Simcha laughed, unaware of his gloomy thinking as he sprinted to catch up to his friend.
Mulling over these things, Fado had continued on without even noticing what he was doing. He looked back to see Saselia and Bashir far behind. Trying to work out the complexities of his feelings he had returned to the quick military pace so thoroughly ground into him. "I'm sorry," he apologize, slowing to a halt.