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31_days2010-04-21 05:56 pm
seta-suzume.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2010-04-21 05:56 pm
[April 21] [Original] Back to the Charcoal Heap
Title: Back to the Charcoal Heap
Day/Theme: April 21, 2010 "Unclench your floodgates"
Series: Original
Character/Pairing: Page, Fado, Bashir, etc.
Rating: PG
Fado, Page, and some charcoal makers managed the somber cremation between them. Bashir stayed as far away from the entire affair as possible. The scent of smoke left his eyes watering and the incense Page burned ("Did she use a flint to light that? I think she used magic!" Saselia babbled excitedly) gave him a headache. Aside from his physical discomfort, he also found it pretty creepy. The charcoal makers had assisted with this kind of thing before, being Catalonian immigrants from the time of the last Ghiran invasions.
The woman, Jeyta, made a huge fuss over Page, bitterly reminded of the son and daughter she had lost in the war. "I bet you're a good little girl, listening to your parents real well. They trusted you to be safe traveling all by yourself in a foreign country!"
"They didn't really like it Miz Byrnner, but there was just no way I could stay behind. My master snuck off on us, just when he had been saying I was ready to learn his secret techniques. It was strange. Not at all like his usual behavior. I couldn't let it go like that."
They sat side by side on the doorstep of the thatched hut-house. Jeyta Byrnner wiped Page's puffy, red cheeks with her handkerchief. Its stark whiteness stood in striking contrast to the rest of her dark costume, black to hide the inevitable stains and smudges of her profession. "What a brave girl you are."
"Mostly I'm just lucky. Could you see those priests? I thought they weren't going to leave Master Simmo to me no matter what I said, but they did. And then you and Mister Fado were both so eager to help me. There's nothing I could've done on my own."
"Hey, Missy Page," Heisa Byrnner called, "We're all finished up now." Fado trailed alongside him with a small painted urn held carefully against his chest. "Let's go in, and if you've got any appetite in you, Jeyta can whip up some fried noodles."
"Why's it always gotta be me taking on the last minute cooking?" Jeyta grumbled. She stood up and brushed her hands against the sides of her skirt. If anything, this gesture made her palms grayer, but no one else acted like this was a problem, so Bashir kept his mouth shut.
"You cook faster," Heisa suggested reasonably.
"I can't eat," Page sighed, pushing the crumpled handkerchief back into Jeyta's hands.
"Of course not, dear."
"I, uh, hope that doesn't mean we're all going to be sympathy fasting," Simcha stammered. Even when flirting with obnoxiousness, he managed to balance things out with a charming smile.
"It's okay. Eat," Page urged them, accepting her master's ashes from Fado. She held the jar with quivering reverence. It was real, solid, heavy in her hands. Simmo had departed this world alone, in the company of strangers, barely a wizard- more a mere man. She sat silently in an internal state of prayer and mourning as the crisp scent of fried noodles began to fill the air around her.
Day/Theme: April 21, 2010 "Unclench your floodgates"
Series: Original
Character/Pairing: Page, Fado, Bashir, etc.
Rating: PG
Fado, Page, and some charcoal makers managed the somber cremation between them. Bashir stayed as far away from the entire affair as possible. The scent of smoke left his eyes watering and the incense Page burned ("Did she use a flint to light that? I think she used magic!" Saselia babbled excitedly) gave him a headache. Aside from his physical discomfort, he also found it pretty creepy. The charcoal makers had assisted with this kind of thing before, being Catalonian immigrants from the time of the last Ghiran invasions.
The woman, Jeyta, made a huge fuss over Page, bitterly reminded of the son and daughter she had lost in the war. "I bet you're a good little girl, listening to your parents real well. They trusted you to be safe traveling all by yourself in a foreign country!"
"They didn't really like it Miz Byrnner, but there was just no way I could stay behind. My master snuck off on us, just when he had been saying I was ready to learn his secret techniques. It was strange. Not at all like his usual behavior. I couldn't let it go like that."
They sat side by side on the doorstep of the thatched hut-house. Jeyta Byrnner wiped Page's puffy, red cheeks with her handkerchief. Its stark whiteness stood in striking contrast to the rest of her dark costume, black to hide the inevitable stains and smudges of her profession. "What a brave girl you are."
"Mostly I'm just lucky. Could you see those priests? I thought they weren't going to leave Master Simmo to me no matter what I said, but they did. And then you and Mister Fado were both so eager to help me. There's nothing I could've done on my own."
"Hey, Missy Page," Heisa Byrnner called, "We're all finished up now." Fado trailed alongside him with a small painted urn held carefully against his chest. "Let's go in, and if you've got any appetite in you, Jeyta can whip up some fried noodles."
"Why's it always gotta be me taking on the last minute cooking?" Jeyta grumbled. She stood up and brushed her hands against the sides of her skirt. If anything, this gesture made her palms grayer, but no one else acted like this was a problem, so Bashir kept his mouth shut.
"You cook faster," Heisa suggested reasonably.
"I can't eat," Page sighed, pushing the crumpled handkerchief back into Jeyta's hands.
"Of course not, dear."
"I, uh, hope that doesn't mean we're all going to be sympathy fasting," Simcha stammered. Even when flirting with obnoxiousness, he managed to balance things out with a charming smile.
"It's okay. Eat," Page urged them, accepting her master's ashes from Fado. She held the jar with quivering reverence. It was real, solid, heavy in her hands. Simmo had departed this world alone, in the company of strangers, barely a wizard- more a mere man. She sat silently in an internal state of prayer and mourning as the crisp scent of fried noodles began to fill the air around her.