http://bane-6.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
bane-6.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
31_days2015-01-01 06:42 pm
bane-6.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2015-01-01 06:42 pm
[Jan 1] [Rusalka] No Defense
Title: No Defense
Day/Theme: 1. In the long run, the sharpest weapon of all is a kind and gentle spirit.
Series: Rusalka by C.J. Cherry
Character/Pairing: Sasha and Pteyr, mention of Evaneshka
Rating: I just finished this book yesterday and all I can say is that fanfiction has ruined me, because I am shipping all the wrong people.
There really was no defense against it. Sasha was simply good-hearted and kind. There weren’t any other motives at work which baffled Pteyr’s mind at first, but he had learned to trust it. He trusted Sasha, even with the power the not-quite-wizard had.
Sasha could wish things true. Some things. Sometimes. He could probably do better now that he had the old wizard’s knowledge, but if he could, he hadn’t. Maybe it was the old man’s influence that had Sasha so immune to the wizard’s daughter. She had done her best to be Pteyr’s and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t willing, but he would also be lying if he said he didn’t have much more reason to doubt her.
She could do the witch thing too. She had been killed and her heart taken by another wizard and had become a life-draining rusalka. She had nearly killed Pteyr, had taken Sasha's heart to replace her own, and had shriveled up large swatches of the forest. She had killed the bandits and the travelers and his stomach still roiled when he remembered the lost frightened voices of the children she had led to their deaths. He knew very well it hadn’t been her fault, but it a way, it had been. If she hadn’t tried to run away with her father’s pupil, the ambitious little bastard wouldn’t have killed her and sent her to haunt her old home.
He was no great fan of her father either, but Pteyr had seen how little came of going against him. Unreasonable and hard as the old man had been, he had known what he was talking about. Maybe you didn’t have to be reasonable when you were so sure you were right. And the old man had loved his daughter enough to give his own life to resurrect her. Instead of cold, wet ghost, she was a living, breathing girl again. The old man could’ve died content, and Pteyr would’ve been content to let him die as well, if he wasn’t worried about Sasha.
Sasha was still as gentle and well-meaning as ever, even with the new knowledge stewing in him with his power. He was still soft-spoken and sad-eyed and Pteyr wanted to hold him and shake him and wrap him up tight and swear at him until he laughed or cried or did anything but walk around like he was waiting for them to leave him. Or ask him to leave. This was the old man’s house and now his daughter’s. Maybe he thought they would want him gone to set up housekeeping for themselves. It made Pteyr furious.
He was never going to leave Sasha. Sasha was never going to be asked to leave. They would both go if Evaneshka decided she wanted the house to herself. There was a scar along Pteyr’s side from the stab wound Sasha had saved him from and a sore place along his heart from thinking that Sasha’s melancholy was his own fault. Threats and curses had never bothered Pteyr, but thinking of Sasha being unhappy just to smooth someone else’s way twisted between his ribs as sharply as the blade had.
Day/Theme: 1. In the long run, the sharpest weapon of all is a kind and gentle spirit.
Series: Rusalka by C.J. Cherry
Character/Pairing: Sasha and Pteyr, mention of Evaneshka
Rating: I just finished this book yesterday and all I can say is that fanfiction has ruined me, because I am shipping all the wrong people.
There really was no defense against it. Sasha was simply good-hearted and kind. There weren’t any other motives at work which baffled Pteyr’s mind at first, but he had learned to trust it. He trusted Sasha, even with the power the not-quite-wizard had.
Sasha could wish things true. Some things. Sometimes. He could probably do better now that he had the old wizard’s knowledge, but if he could, he hadn’t. Maybe it was the old man’s influence that had Sasha so immune to the wizard’s daughter. She had done her best to be Pteyr’s and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t willing, but he would also be lying if he said he didn’t have much more reason to doubt her.
She could do the witch thing too. She had been killed and her heart taken by another wizard and had become a life-draining rusalka. She had nearly killed Pteyr, had taken Sasha's heart to replace her own, and had shriveled up large swatches of the forest. She had killed the bandits and the travelers and his stomach still roiled when he remembered the lost frightened voices of the children she had led to their deaths. He knew very well it hadn’t been her fault, but it a way, it had been. If she hadn’t tried to run away with her father’s pupil, the ambitious little bastard wouldn’t have killed her and sent her to haunt her old home.
He was no great fan of her father either, but Pteyr had seen how little came of going against him. Unreasonable and hard as the old man had been, he had known what he was talking about. Maybe you didn’t have to be reasonable when you were so sure you were right. And the old man had loved his daughter enough to give his own life to resurrect her. Instead of cold, wet ghost, she was a living, breathing girl again. The old man could’ve died content, and Pteyr would’ve been content to let him die as well, if he wasn’t worried about Sasha.
Sasha was still as gentle and well-meaning as ever, even with the new knowledge stewing in him with his power. He was still soft-spoken and sad-eyed and Pteyr wanted to hold him and shake him and wrap him up tight and swear at him until he laughed or cried or did anything but walk around like he was waiting for them to leave him. Or ask him to leave. This was the old man’s house and now his daughter’s. Maybe he thought they would want him gone to set up housekeeping for themselves. It made Pteyr furious.
He was never going to leave Sasha. Sasha was never going to be asked to leave. They would both go if Evaneshka decided she wanted the house to herself. There was a scar along Pteyr’s side from the stab wound Sasha had saved him from and a sore place along his heart from thinking that Sasha’s melancholy was his own fault. Threats and curses had never bothered Pteyr, but thinking of Sasha being unhappy just to smooth someone else’s way twisted between his ribs as sharply as the blade had.