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31_days2009-10-23 12:47 pm
seta-suzume.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2009-10-23 12:47 pm
[Oct. 23] [Original] A Short Break
Title: A Short Break
Day/Theme: Oct. 23, 2009 "As if tired from their pilgrimage"
Series: Original
Character/Pairing: Bashir, Saselia, Simcha, Fado
Rating: G
Simcha took over the rest of the bench with his two large bags of orange oil ointment and a smaller one filled with personal traveling accouterments. With one bottle in hand, he scampered back up onto the road to promote his product to whoever passed by. "He's so energetic," Bashir observed, not sure if he was jealous of such a bubbling spring of strength or not.
"He's not a man to be trifled with when it comes to matters of business," Fado agreed, sitting down cross-legged on the dirt. He rifled through his pack until he found his writing kit. Eschewing the quill and ink as too troublesome for a quick stop like this, he selected a charcoal pencil and began to scribble idly.
Saselia was a few feet away, drinking from her canteen and chatting with an elderly couple transporting a sizable load of cucumbers and zucchini to the markets of the capital. With his traveling companions otherwise occupied, Bashir heaved a long sigh and allowed himself to slump over, resting his heels lightly on the ground so that the rest of his aching feet could take a break from their constant contact with the hard ground. Curious, he tipped his head slightly to the side to read over Fado's shoulder what he was writing out one short phrase at a time.
"Simcha hawks his goods,
While I sit in the shadows
And Bashir as well."
Bashir straightened back up and glanced around cautiously, checking that no one had seen this slight breach of manners. The coast was clear. He dipped his eyes back down to Fado's brownish page.
"Pilgrims always go
On Merica to and from
Like rocks on the road."
Hmm. Whatever that meant. When Fado had still been in the service of the older emperor he had been called the "poet general." It was a hobby that hadn't diminished with his bloodlust. As far as the women of the court were concerned, it added to his charm. Bashir was surprised he wasn't married. A lot of very complimentary things had been said about him in his time as general. Some were still repeated to this day.
"Is that good enough?" Saselia shattered his reverie to ask him.
"Huh? Wh-what?" he blinked away his thoughts like a fading dream.
"For your feet," she clarified. "You could take off your boots if you want. We won't be leaving so fast that you'll get left behind if they're off."
He smiled just slightly at the silly idea. "No, I don't need to. This is good enough."
Day/Theme: Oct. 23, 2009 "As if tired from their pilgrimage"
Series: Original
Character/Pairing: Bashir, Saselia, Simcha, Fado
Rating: G
Simcha took over the rest of the bench with his two large bags of orange oil ointment and a smaller one filled with personal traveling accouterments. With one bottle in hand, he scampered back up onto the road to promote his product to whoever passed by. "He's so energetic," Bashir observed, not sure if he was jealous of such a bubbling spring of strength or not.
"He's not a man to be trifled with when it comes to matters of business," Fado agreed, sitting down cross-legged on the dirt. He rifled through his pack until he found his writing kit. Eschewing the quill and ink as too troublesome for a quick stop like this, he selected a charcoal pencil and began to scribble idly.
Saselia was a few feet away, drinking from her canteen and chatting with an elderly couple transporting a sizable load of cucumbers and zucchini to the markets of the capital. With his traveling companions otherwise occupied, Bashir heaved a long sigh and allowed himself to slump over, resting his heels lightly on the ground so that the rest of his aching feet could take a break from their constant contact with the hard ground. Curious, he tipped his head slightly to the side to read over Fado's shoulder what he was writing out one short phrase at a time.
"Simcha hawks his goods,
While I sit in the shadows
And Bashir as well."
Bashir straightened back up and glanced around cautiously, checking that no one had seen this slight breach of manners. The coast was clear. He dipped his eyes back down to Fado's brownish page.
"Pilgrims always go
On Merica to and from
Like rocks on the road."
Hmm. Whatever that meant. When Fado had still been in the service of the older emperor he had been called the "poet general." It was a hobby that hadn't diminished with his bloodlust. As far as the women of the court were concerned, it added to his charm. Bashir was surprised he wasn't married. A lot of very complimentary things had been said about him in his time as general. Some were still repeated to this day.
"Is that good enough?" Saselia shattered his reverie to ask him.
"Huh? Wh-what?" he blinked away his thoughts like a fading dream.
"For your feet," she clarified. "You could take off your boots if you want. We won't be leaving so fast that you'll get left behind if they're off."
He smiled just slightly at the silly idea. "No, I don't need to. This is good enough."