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more spin-the-bottle mermaidy ficlets!
... Okay, that first one is canon. That's decided. *ships Oriana/Vartan a little now* ._.
Vartan scares her in the beginning. He's not the tallest -- Dhaval and Blue are taller -- but Blue is slender and Dhaval bony. Vartan is anything but. He's not fat -- there's no place on their crew for any obese person, the long-term repercussions on the fuel expenses alone would be a deterrent -- but he's broad, his limbs thick. His eyes are small, deep-set, watchful. And then there's the red, ugly scar on his jaw, and the close-cropped graying hair, and the way he moves, military through and through. At first she can't even be around him if Khiaw isn't there either.
But after he catches her sneaking a leftover baked potato out of the fridge, they start having it at dinner more often.
She gets braver. At least she doesn't leave a room if he comes in, not even if there's only one exit. He's good at standing to the side and leaving a way out. She would be embarrassed he noticed, but she thinks he likes being in a corner, with a wall at his back, with a good, direct view on all exits. They start settling on favorite chairs in the common room.
Khiaw gets the ship a cat, a tiny, runty, dust-gray thing that mews like a rusty seesaw. Oriana falls in love, and the cat loves her back. He winds around her ankles as she walks, and she laughs, making it a game.
One day the cat isn't here when she turns around, and she looks and looks, ready to panic.
She finds the cat pretending to be Vartan's beard. The man is reclining in his chair, feet up on the table, and the cat nestles around his neck like a living scarf, purring for all he's worth.
She can't fear a man who lets a cat use him as a bed, ex-army or not.
Vartan still sneaks Oriana's favorites on her plate with alarming regularity. He feeds the cat, too. Khiaw smiles at him and he reins Darel in, and listens to Dhaval patiently, and even manages to get Lujayn to talk weapons until their steel woman is almost smiling a little. He fits, too.
Now Oriana wanders in the kitchen when she knows he'll be there, just to watch his large, steady hands move through the whole cooking process. They don't even talk, sometimes, apart from his appreciative nods and inquiries about the plants she cultivates in the cargo bay, and their quiet amusement about the latest cat antics.
Even when the cat knocks a glass to the ground around her bare feet and she stands unmoving, trapped on the spot by the field of glass slivers, Vartan doesn't touch her. He sighs and says he'll get her shoes. She's the one who reaches out, who holds out her hand.
Just help me up on the counter, she says, and laughs a little. She's not laughing when his strong hands close around her waist and he lifts her off her feet. He handles her like a porcelain doll, like she's precious and not for him and he doesn't want to dirty her.
So she sits with her feet dangling over the glass, and she leans into him, hands gripping the edge of the counter until her knuckles whiten, and she kisses him, with her lips just barely parted.
He watches her when she leans back, thoughtful, waiting. The cat is coming back, she says. You were getting the vacuum cleaner? And he chuckles quietly, and agrees.
Even when all the glass is gone, she stays perched on the counter, legs dangling, and she watches him cook in silence, and she feels safe.
Darel is dreaming. It's a nice dream, with a winged, gold-plated car and a busty blonde who bears a suspicious resemblance to half a dozen vid stars all at the same time. Mm, dreams. She's walking her fingers up his body while the car turns into a bed with truck wheels, and she nuzzles his neck, tickling it with her hair -- or was it a coat of fur? Oh, that's nice, baby. She brushes butterfly kisses over his face, licks his lips. Hehe, tickles a bit. His chest feels warm, a little wet, and he conjures visions of sexy women mouthing his skin through the cloth. Oh yeah.
And then she licks his nostrils, and he wakes up with a grossed-out gasp to a red-eyed, pointy rat face.
He doesn't care what Blue says, he screams in a perfectly manly way.
When Dhaval comes to get his ferret back, Darel gives him a glare and points down at the floor. "Your tube-rat just dumped me to romance my shoe. By the way, you owe me a piss-free shirt."
"You cheapskate! I got you a cleaning kit for your knives!"
"One you stole off that mafia guy we got a shipment from."
Lujayn is cleaning her nails, not even watching Darel as he tries to look pitiful at her. Anyone could tell him it's no use; she's pitiless. She would eat puppies for breakfast. Around them, the crew pretends they're not laughing at the little scene.
"But I still thought of you! Come on, think of me a little, too."
"Like you didn't give me that kit just because it sucked and you didn't want it. Don't lie."
Darel stops in his tracks, sulks for a few seconds, and starts again. "But I still thought of you. Captain, come on, tell her she's not being considerate of the crew or something."
Khiaw's eyes are shining with restrained mirth. "Lujayn, you're not being considerate of the feelings of the crew."
She snorts, gives the begging man a long, narrow-eyed look. "Fine."
Oriana passes by, to pick up more dirty plates and bring them to the dishwasher. Lujayn catches her elbow, sweeps her off her feet, and plants a wet kiss right on her lips. She makes it showy; all tongue tracing lips, lots of rubbing; she adds a little moan, for effect, and a small smacking sound when she breaks it.
She sits back, leaving Oriana sprawled on her back on the table, stunned, and Darel still gaping dumbly on the other side, and she gives him a cold smirk.
"It counts as your midwinter present too. But I'm sure you'll make it last."
He nods quickly, jaw still hanging. He gets a slap over the head courtesy of Blue for it, but he doesn't even seem to notice. Heh. The cheapest present of all, and she bets it's the one he'll use the most.
Also!![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sarolynne (♥) wrote more drabblethings to lay the groundwork for her fantasy MtF quest story. They are here, and they are nnnnghsocute, and read them now.
Vartan scares her in the beginning. He's not the tallest -- Dhaval and Blue are taller -- but Blue is slender and Dhaval bony. Vartan is anything but. He's not fat -- there's no place on their crew for any obese person, the long-term repercussions on the fuel expenses alone would be a deterrent -- but he's broad, his limbs thick. His eyes are small, deep-set, watchful. And then there's the red, ugly scar on his jaw, and the close-cropped graying hair, and the way he moves, military through and through. At first she can't even be around him if Khiaw isn't there either.
But after he catches her sneaking a leftover baked potato out of the fridge, they start having it at dinner more often.
She gets braver. At least she doesn't leave a room if he comes in, not even if there's only one exit. He's good at standing to the side and leaving a way out. She would be embarrassed he noticed, but she thinks he likes being in a corner, with a wall at his back, with a good, direct view on all exits. They start settling on favorite chairs in the common room.
Khiaw gets the ship a cat, a tiny, runty, dust-gray thing that mews like a rusty seesaw. Oriana falls in love, and the cat loves her back. He winds around her ankles as she walks, and she laughs, making it a game.
One day the cat isn't here when she turns around, and she looks and looks, ready to panic.
She finds the cat pretending to be Vartan's beard. The man is reclining in his chair, feet up on the table, and the cat nestles around his neck like a living scarf, purring for all he's worth.
She can't fear a man who lets a cat use him as a bed, ex-army or not.
Vartan still sneaks Oriana's favorites on her plate with alarming regularity. He feeds the cat, too. Khiaw smiles at him and he reins Darel in, and listens to Dhaval patiently, and even manages to get Lujayn to talk weapons until their steel woman is almost smiling a little. He fits, too.
Now Oriana wanders in the kitchen when she knows he'll be there, just to watch his large, steady hands move through the whole cooking process. They don't even talk, sometimes, apart from his appreciative nods and inquiries about the plants she cultivates in the cargo bay, and their quiet amusement about the latest cat antics.
Even when the cat knocks a glass to the ground around her bare feet and she stands unmoving, trapped on the spot by the field of glass slivers, Vartan doesn't touch her. He sighs and says he'll get her shoes. She's the one who reaches out, who holds out her hand.
Just help me up on the counter, she says, and laughs a little. She's not laughing when his strong hands close around her waist and he lifts her off her feet. He handles her like a porcelain doll, like she's precious and not for him and he doesn't want to dirty her.
So she sits with her feet dangling over the glass, and she leans into him, hands gripping the edge of the counter until her knuckles whiten, and she kisses him, with her lips just barely parted.
He watches her when she leans back, thoughtful, waiting. The cat is coming back, she says. You were getting the vacuum cleaner? And he chuckles quietly, and agrees.
Even when all the glass is gone, she stays perched on the counter, legs dangling, and she watches him cook in silence, and she feels safe.
Darel is dreaming. It's a nice dream, with a winged, gold-plated car and a busty blonde who bears a suspicious resemblance to half a dozen vid stars all at the same time. Mm, dreams. She's walking her fingers up his body while the car turns into a bed with truck wheels, and she nuzzles his neck, tickling it with her hair -- or was it a coat of fur? Oh, that's nice, baby. She brushes butterfly kisses over his face, licks his lips. Hehe, tickles a bit. His chest feels warm, a little wet, and he conjures visions of sexy women mouthing his skin through the cloth. Oh yeah.
And then she licks his nostrils, and he wakes up with a grossed-out gasp to a red-eyed, pointy rat face.
He doesn't care what Blue says, he screams in a perfectly manly way.
When Dhaval comes to get his ferret back, Darel gives him a glare and points down at the floor. "Your tube-rat just dumped me to romance my shoe. By the way, you owe me a piss-free shirt."
"You cheapskate! I got you a cleaning kit for your knives!"
"One you stole off that mafia guy we got a shipment from."
Lujayn is cleaning her nails, not even watching Darel as he tries to look pitiful at her. Anyone could tell him it's no use; she's pitiless. She would eat puppies for breakfast. Around them, the crew pretends they're not laughing at the little scene.
"But I still thought of you! Come on, think of me a little, too."
"Like you didn't give me that kit just because it sucked and you didn't want it. Don't lie."
Darel stops in his tracks, sulks for a few seconds, and starts again. "But I still thought of you. Captain, come on, tell her she's not being considerate of the crew or something."
Khiaw's eyes are shining with restrained mirth. "Lujayn, you're not being considerate of the feelings of the crew."
She snorts, gives the begging man a long, narrow-eyed look. "Fine."
Oriana passes by, to pick up more dirty plates and bring them to the dishwasher. Lujayn catches her elbow, sweeps her off her feet, and plants a wet kiss right on her lips. She makes it showy; all tongue tracing lips, lots of rubbing; she adds a little moan, for effect, and a small smacking sound when she breaks it.
She sits back, leaving Oriana sprawled on her back on the table, stunned, and Darel still gaping dumbly on the other side, and she gives him a cold smirk.
"It counts as your midwinter present too. But I'm sure you'll make it last."
He nods quickly, jaw still hanging. He gets a slap over the head courtesy of Blue for it, but he doesn't even seem to notice. Heh. The cheapest present of all, and she bets it's the one he'll use the most.
Also!
sarolynne (♥) wrote more drabblethings to lay the groundwork for her fantasy MtF quest story. They are here, and they are nnnnghsocute, and read them now.
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*fangirls*
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Ah, much better. You know, I realize that these are crack pairings (except when they're not), but the interactions! And the characters! Cute! (How did you come up with the different pairings, anyway? Because pairing someone with a ferret has to take some work...)
Khiaw is... confusing. I was going to say in the last set of comments that he really does read as a somewhat creepy person who radiates "truuuuuuuust meeeeee," but then we got him getting into the ribbing in the last one here, and now I'm just thoroughly off-balance with him. Is he supposed to be that hard to get a grip on? If so, congratulations - because he still reads as a solid character, even though I can't seem to understand him at all. Although the fact that we only get to see him in one line or two from the outside probably doesn't help.
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Mostly I listed all my main characters. Including the cat, the ferret, and the dolphins. u__u;;; And then, well. "choose a number at random!" XD;
Khiaw is kinda creepy and radiates "trust me", but he's benevolent toward his people. He does keep himself separate from them. I can feel him, but I don't think i'm ever going to be able to write anything from his POV. I know what he's like from the outside, and I know he's got the best interests of his crew at heart, but it's in his character to be an enigma wrapped in a mystery. Asshole likes being hard to read. XD;;
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*slashes them on the side* u.u-b
(and even on dA the "first comment!" thing is kinda annoying >_>;;;)
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(Anonymous) 2007-10-06 08:26 pm (UTC)(link)Want Lìadan/Blue/Arun! DysfunctionalBitterSexyGood!