ext_158887 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
seta-suzume.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
31_days2010-04-07 10:50 am
seta-suzume.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2010-04-07 10:50 am
[April 7] [Original] The Day the Magic Died
Title: The Day the Magic Died
Day/Theme: April 7, 2010 "Where were you when they broke the news?"
Series: Original
Character/Pairing: Page, Fado, Bashir, etc.
Rating: PG
The girl's fainting spell was enough to get Fado the attention that had eluded him before. "Is she all right?" one of the mourners asked (Bashir couldn't tell whether it was out of concern for her condition or selfish interest in the possibility of another funeral he might be paid to attend).
"Let me fan her," a village woman volunteered, shifting a fat-cheeked infant from one arm to the other and pulling a paper fan from her sash. She set about whisking the morning glory-patterned item through the air with vigor.
Fado took the advice of the chief elder present, lifting up Page's feet so the blood ran back to her head. Bashir noticed she wore cute black shoes similar to (or the same as, he couldn't tell) Saselia's and white stocking with knee pants under her robe.
The fuss shifted temporarily from the Nightingale to his student as she was tended to, and then awoke, looking up into Fado's narrow eyes with a significant degree of confusion evident on her round face. "What did I...?" She only seemed to be catching on just now to the fact that she had passed out.
Fado tipped her back into an upright position, although he continued to keep her small form steady against his chest. The freckle-faced mother slowed her fanning. "You passed out," the general said, just to make sure she knew. "Because you," he took this part sluggishly, proceeding with gentle trepidation, "You saw that Mr. Kipilgaln was dead."
"Oh, my great goddesses and gods!" the little brunette exclaimed. In any other circumstances, Bashir would've found the outburst funny. Did all Catalonians have to make such a long-winded entreaty to call the attention of their deities? Her face contorted with a reasonable degree of mental anguish. She pushed away from Fado and stood shakily on her own two feet, looking at the body of her master. Fado rose as well and contemplated the scene alongside her.
She composed her thoughts enough to thank Fado for his assistance and introduced herself to those nearby. While her words struck Bashir as mainly for Fado's benefit, the curious village elders listened in as well. The local mother had moved on, disappearing somewhere into the crowd. "I'm Page Tudor. ...And I'm...was...Master Simmo's student."
"And a student at the university at Fennacy too," Simcha provided, suddenly remembering where he had seen her garb before.
"Right," she agreed. Tears were streaking down her cheeks, but she did not sob. Her sorrow did nothing to hamper her ability to speak. "I cam here...to follow him. To bring him home. Alive, I thought. Dead now, I suppose."
Day/Theme: April 7, 2010 "Where were you when they broke the news?"
Series: Original
Character/Pairing: Page, Fado, Bashir, etc.
Rating: PG
The girl's fainting spell was enough to get Fado the attention that had eluded him before. "Is she all right?" one of the mourners asked (Bashir couldn't tell whether it was out of concern for her condition or selfish interest in the possibility of another funeral he might be paid to attend).
"Let me fan her," a village woman volunteered, shifting a fat-cheeked infant from one arm to the other and pulling a paper fan from her sash. She set about whisking the morning glory-patterned item through the air with vigor.
Fado took the advice of the chief elder present, lifting up Page's feet so the blood ran back to her head. Bashir noticed she wore cute black shoes similar to (or the same as, he couldn't tell) Saselia's and white stocking with knee pants under her robe.
The fuss shifted temporarily from the Nightingale to his student as she was tended to, and then awoke, looking up into Fado's narrow eyes with a significant degree of confusion evident on her round face. "What did I...?" She only seemed to be catching on just now to the fact that she had passed out.
Fado tipped her back into an upright position, although he continued to keep her small form steady against his chest. The freckle-faced mother slowed her fanning. "You passed out," the general said, just to make sure she knew. "Because you," he took this part sluggishly, proceeding with gentle trepidation, "You saw that Mr. Kipilgaln was dead."
"Oh, my great goddesses and gods!" the little brunette exclaimed. In any other circumstances, Bashir would've found the outburst funny. Did all Catalonians have to make such a long-winded entreaty to call the attention of their deities? Her face contorted with a reasonable degree of mental anguish. She pushed away from Fado and stood shakily on her own two feet, looking at the body of her master. Fado rose as well and contemplated the scene alongside her.
She composed her thoughts enough to thank Fado for his assistance and introduced herself to those nearby. While her words struck Bashir as mainly for Fado's benefit, the curious village elders listened in as well. The local mother had moved on, disappearing somewhere into the crowd. "I'm Page Tudor. ...And I'm...was...Master Simmo's student."
"And a student at the university at Fennacy too," Simcha provided, suddenly remembering where he had seen her garb before.
"Right," she agreed. Tears were streaking down her cheeks, but she did not sob. Her sorrow did nothing to hamper her ability to speak. "I cam here...to follow him. To bring him home. Alive, I thought. Dead now, I suppose."