fanfic and original writing by ar (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
witticaster) wrote2008-12-21 10:22 pm
witticaster) wrote2008-12-21 10:22 pm
048
A misbegotten Christmas present, I maintain. This is one of a few stories from the Pile Of AR's Terrible TCLS Stories that I'm going to put up in the next few days. It is good indication of why I shouldn't ever try and write Promise/Niko. :-/ I feel horrifically naked and blegh posting this, I have to admit, but as your eyes bleed, just remember that I can kind of write Cal's voice. AT LEAST I CAN DO THAT. et cetera.
Three Ways It Didn't Happen (And One Way It Did)
How it did not happen:
NinjaBro112: hey p
MetByMoonlight: yeah
NinjaBro112: u wanna get married
MetByMoonlight: sure
NinjaBro112: kewl
NinjaBro112: oh g2g lil bro needs patched up
MetByMoonlight: k ttyl
NinjaBro112: ilu
MetByMoolight: ilu2
How it did not happen:
In the middle (well, nearer the beginning, to be precise) of the dinner party, Niko asked everyone's attention for just a few moments. His speech, on bended knee no less, in front of the woman who (he said) breathed beauty and danger just as she took in oxygen, left the older ladies of quality with misty vision, though they didn't understand the full truth of the words. He offered the ring, she took it with a smile, and applause and the glorious weightlessness of a battle won lifted him back into his seat to take in the rest of the soup course.
How it did not happen:
Meet me in Central Park at sunset. Niko. had read the note, and Promise had done as was asked of her; the “please” was hidden somewhere in his handwriting, and the exact location within the park had established itself between them some time long ago. She sat on a bench, carefully shielded from the falling sun, senses ever at the ready for the presence of others.
She had not expected to see a werewolf loping toward her, nor had she thought to predict its—his, she realized, as he came closer and she saw that it was Flay—neck to be hung with a sign. As the wolf slowed to a halt in front of her, she read, in Niko's hand, Will you marry me? Following behind Flay, at an easier pace, was a young man with a smile that was clear even at this distance. Promise rose as he approached and kissed him hello—and yes.
The next few moments were best left to the two people who experienced them. Some time later, after the sun had slipped from view and Flay had made his exit, Promise glanced at Niko.
“How did you convince him to take part in this?” she asked in an undertone, something like laughter hiding in her eyes.
“My methods are best kept unrevealed,” was his quiet response, delivered in a deadpan tone as he reached for her hand. Together, they watched the twilight come to the city.
How it may just have occurred (though neither present will ever say for sure):
The living room was dark—not truly so, as nothing was ever dark in New York City, but dim enough to count by the city's standards. The ambient light outside blocked out moon and starlight and offered itself in replacement, casting spectral shadows that bore only passing resemblance to the room's furniture. Promise and Niko lay upon her couch, their curled, naked bodies left without illumination thanks to the sofa's high back, whose shadow covered them as completely as a quilt. The thick walls of the apartment kept out most of the city's midnight lullaby, leaving them with only the rhythms of their quickened heartbeats to accompany their thoughts.
Some time passed, and Niko, his hand curving gently around Promise's hip, spoke her name in a reverent half-whisper, neither a question nor quite a statement.
“Yes?” Even in the dark, he could see, or perhaps imagine, some hint of the violet in her eyes as she shifted to look up at him.
He took a moment to reply, his thoughts falling simply, beautifully into place as easily as he slipped into his daily meditation. Everything in his mind was arranged in a clear and plain array, and he spoke with a tone that only Promise ever heard—a voice which betrayed not nakedness but a loving clarity. “I would like to propose something...”
...it was originally going to be five things and one, but I ran out of ideas. >>
How it did not happen:
NinjaBro112: hey p
MetByMoonlight: yeah
NinjaBro112: u wanna get married
MetByMoonlight: sure
NinjaBro112: kewl
NinjaBro112: oh g2g lil bro needs patched up
MetByMoonlight: k ttyl
NinjaBro112: ilu
MetByMoolight: ilu2
How it did not happen:
In the middle (well, nearer the beginning, to be precise) of the dinner party, Niko asked everyone's attention for just a few moments. His speech, on bended knee no less, in front of the woman who (he said) breathed beauty and danger just as she took in oxygen, left the older ladies of quality with misty vision, though they didn't understand the full truth of the words. He offered the ring, she took it with a smile, and applause and the glorious weightlessness of a battle won lifted him back into his seat to take in the rest of the soup course.
How it did not happen:
Meet me in Central Park at sunset. Niko. had read the note, and Promise had done as was asked of her; the “please” was hidden somewhere in his handwriting, and the exact location within the park had established itself between them some time long ago. She sat on a bench, carefully shielded from the falling sun, senses ever at the ready for the presence of others.
She had not expected to see a werewolf loping toward her, nor had she thought to predict its—his, she realized, as he came closer and she saw that it was Flay—neck to be hung with a sign. As the wolf slowed to a halt in front of her, she read, in Niko's hand, Will you marry me? Following behind Flay, at an easier pace, was a young man with a smile that was clear even at this distance. Promise rose as he approached and kissed him hello—and yes.
The next few moments were best left to the two people who experienced them. Some time later, after the sun had slipped from view and Flay had made his exit, Promise glanced at Niko.
“How did you convince him to take part in this?” she asked in an undertone, something like laughter hiding in her eyes.
“My methods are best kept unrevealed,” was his quiet response, delivered in a deadpan tone as he reached for her hand. Together, they watched the twilight come to the city.
How it may just have occurred (though neither present will ever say for sure):
The living room was dark—not truly so, as nothing was ever dark in New York City, but dim enough to count by the city's standards. The ambient light outside blocked out moon and starlight and offered itself in replacement, casting spectral shadows that bore only passing resemblance to the room's furniture. Promise and Niko lay upon her couch, their curled, naked bodies left without illumination thanks to the sofa's high back, whose shadow covered them as completely as a quilt. The thick walls of the apartment kept out most of the city's midnight lullaby, leaving them with only the rhythms of their quickened heartbeats to accompany their thoughts.
Some time passed, and Niko, his hand curving gently around Promise's hip, spoke her name in a reverent half-whisper, neither a question nor quite a statement.
“Yes?” Even in the dark, he could see, or perhaps imagine, some hint of the violet in her eyes as she shifted to look up at him.
He took a moment to reply, his thoughts falling simply, beautifully into place as easily as he slipped into his daily meditation. Everything in his mind was arranged in a clear and plain array, and he spoke with a tone that only Promise ever heard—a voice which betrayed not nakedness but a loving clarity. “I would like to propose something...”
...it was originally going to be five things and one, but I ran out of ideas. >>