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Entry tags:
[16-Aug-2021][Guilty Gear] Ways of Helping
Title: Ways of Helping
Day/Prompt: 16-Aug-2021
Fandom: Guilty Gear
Character/Pairing: Sol/Ky
Rating/Warning(s): Gen
"Go to bed." Sol looked at the boy, watching the hand still moving at the asscrack of night, blue eyes still open and focused.
Ky furrowed his brows, staring up for a moment. He looked tired, disheveled, but still focused; it was the side of Kiske most didn't get the 'privilege' of seeing.
"Can't you see that I have work to do?" Ky asked, exasperated.
"Yeah, I do." Sol gave a noise, then stepped closer, leaning down to pinch half the unfinished paperwork. "Let me help."
"Sol," Ky said, standing up to grab the sheets. He paused, hands bracing against the desk as he wobbled momentarily, world turning like a tabletop spinner. "Give that back." He demanded. As if Sol would ever pretend to be a paper-pusher. He always shoveled his field reports and vague strategies and their paperwork onto Ky.
Sol stared at the kid, eyes dull: no.
"Sol."
Ky marched forward, swiping an arm in the air to steal the dangling paperwork back. Instead, Sol shifted to his other side, a brow raised in amusement.
"Go to bed." Sol repeated. Then, he smirked. "Or I burn this."
Ky really couldn't afford that. They were low on everything, paper no exception; if he couldn't get paperwork done, he couldn't get proper medical supplies, infantry, and the support they desperately needed. Despite that, he knew Sol wasn't joking -- and that Sol wasn't willing to argue, nor humor a single word, so Ky merely sighed.
"Fine." Ky mumbled, bracing himself on the steady presence to a disgruntled noise.
"Good."
Day/Prompt: 16-Aug-2021
Fandom: Guilty Gear
Character/Pairing: Sol/Ky
Rating/Warning(s): Gen
"Go to bed." Sol looked at the boy, watching the hand still moving at the asscrack of night, blue eyes still open and focused.
Ky furrowed his brows, staring up for a moment. He looked tired, disheveled, but still focused; it was the side of Kiske most didn't get the 'privilege' of seeing.
"Can't you see that I have work to do?" Ky asked, exasperated.
"Yeah, I do." Sol gave a noise, then stepped closer, leaning down to pinch half the unfinished paperwork. "Let me help."
"Sol," Ky said, standing up to grab the sheets. He paused, hands bracing against the desk as he wobbled momentarily, world turning like a tabletop spinner. "Give that back." He demanded. As if Sol would ever pretend to be a paper-pusher. He always shoveled his field reports and vague strategies and their paperwork onto Ky.
Sol stared at the kid, eyes dull: no.
"Sol."
Ky marched forward, swiping an arm in the air to steal the dangling paperwork back. Instead, Sol shifted to his other side, a brow raised in amusement.
"Go to bed." Sol repeated. Then, he smirked. "Or I burn this."
Ky really couldn't afford that. They were low on everything, paper no exception; if he couldn't get paperwork done, he couldn't get proper medical supplies, infantry, and the support they desperately needed. Despite that, he knew Sol wasn't joking -- and that Sol wasn't willing to argue, nor humor a single word, so Ky merely sighed.
"Fine." Ky mumbled, bracing himself on the steady presence to a disgruntled noise.
"Good."