storypaint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storypaint) wrote2009-10-30 09:16 am
storypaint) wrote2009-10-30 09:16 am
Coming Home (Clef/Presea)
Title: Coming Home
Fandom: Magic Knight Rayearth
Length: 556 words
Prompt:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
31_days: 26 Oct 09 // shining in my soup bowl
Character/Pairing: Clef and Presea; slight Presea/Clef
Other: n/a
Excerpt: Presea knows there must have been a time before Clef lived in the palace, a time before he put on those heavy robes and took up the staff of office, but she finds it hard to picture.
Presea knows there must have been a time before Clef lived in the palace, a time before he put on those heavy robes and took up the staff of office, but she finds it hard to picture. He's mentioned it only once, in passing-- a cottage he kept near the edge of the Forest of Silence (he was always so fond of silence). She pictured it, at that time, a smile on her lips, as a little place, homey, relaxing, with a great big study like hers.
Now he has no separation between work and home. She stops in to see him sometimes when her work brings her to the palace, but his office juts right up to his quarters, which are small and spare in her opinion, and undecorated, no nicer than what she would imagine for the butler. But if that's what his rooms look like, it's what he's chosen for himself, but Emeraude would never deny him something better if he wanted it. He'd practically raised her, after all.
She doesn't know what to say about it so one day she brings him something. She can't draw, but she can do metalwork, so she sculpts something pretty but not girly, from a metal like steel, setting blue stones into it. It has sharp edges but is a long, slender shape overall, and it reminds her of Clef a little when she is done, or perhaps her idea of him: strong, weighted, intricate.
"I thought you could put it on your wall," she tells Clef, smiling, her face oddly warm. He looks bemused for a second, holding it, and then he smiles back, looking brighter than he had in a long time.
"Of course," he says, gesturing for her to follow as he leaves his office (of course she's found him there). She walks along behind him to his apartment. He climbs up onto the couch and holds up the decoration onto the wall, turning back for her opinion.
It looks wonderful there, just as she'd imagined. She pulls the hammer from her belt, and a couple of nails, and in short order they install it.
"Thank you," Clef says, stepping back to look at it, then smiling at her again. Presea puts her hammer away, somehow fumbling a little under his gaze.
"You're welcome," she says, and then hesitates before continuing, "it seemed really bare in here."
His smile drops a little. "I suppose I don't have a lot of time for decorating."
"It helps to have someplace relaxing to come home to," she answers softly.
"You're right," he says after a considering moment. "Thank you, Pharle. Presea."
He only calls her-- only calls anyone, really-- by their name on very rare occasions, and the word sinks to the bottom of her stomach and rests there warmly.
"You're welcome," she answers, bowing. They spend a few moments talking before Clef is called away yet again to another errand. She watches him go, smiling faintly.
The next time she returns to the palace, there is a little glass jar on the endtable next to his couch, with smooth blue stones in the bottom.
He sees her gaze, and says, "It matched," smiling just a little before returning to the business before them. But Presea grinned all the way back home.
Fandom: Magic Knight Rayearth
Length: 556 words
Prompt:
31_days: 26 Oct 09 // shining in my soup bowlCharacter/Pairing: Clef and Presea; slight Presea/Clef
Other: n/a
Excerpt: Presea knows there must have been a time before Clef lived in the palace, a time before he put on those heavy robes and took up the staff of office, but she finds it hard to picture.
Presea knows there must have been a time before Clef lived in the palace, a time before he put on those heavy robes and took up the staff of office, but she finds it hard to picture. He's mentioned it only once, in passing-- a cottage he kept near the edge of the Forest of Silence (he was always so fond of silence). She pictured it, at that time, a smile on her lips, as a little place, homey, relaxing, with a great big study like hers.
Now he has no separation between work and home. She stops in to see him sometimes when her work brings her to the palace, but his office juts right up to his quarters, which are small and spare in her opinion, and undecorated, no nicer than what she would imagine for the butler. But if that's what his rooms look like, it's what he's chosen for himself, but Emeraude would never deny him something better if he wanted it. He'd practically raised her, after all.
She doesn't know what to say about it so one day she brings him something. She can't draw, but she can do metalwork, so she sculpts something pretty but not girly, from a metal like steel, setting blue stones into it. It has sharp edges but is a long, slender shape overall, and it reminds her of Clef a little when she is done, or perhaps her idea of him: strong, weighted, intricate.
"I thought you could put it on your wall," she tells Clef, smiling, her face oddly warm. He looks bemused for a second, holding it, and then he smiles back, looking brighter than he had in a long time.
"Of course," he says, gesturing for her to follow as he leaves his office (of course she's found him there). She walks along behind him to his apartment. He climbs up onto the couch and holds up the decoration onto the wall, turning back for her opinion.
It looks wonderful there, just as she'd imagined. She pulls the hammer from her belt, and a couple of nails, and in short order they install it.
"Thank you," Clef says, stepping back to look at it, then smiling at her again. Presea puts her hammer away, somehow fumbling a little under his gaze.
"You're welcome," she says, and then hesitates before continuing, "it seemed really bare in here."
His smile drops a little. "I suppose I don't have a lot of time for decorating."
"It helps to have someplace relaxing to come home to," she answers softly.
"You're right," he says after a considering moment. "Thank you, Pharle. Presea."
He only calls her-- only calls anyone, really-- by their name on very rare occasions, and the word sinks to the bottom of her stomach and rests there warmly.
"You're welcome," she answers, bowing. They spend a few moments talking before Clef is called away yet again to another errand. She watches him go, smiling faintly.
The next time she returns to the palace, there is a little glass jar on the endtable next to his couch, with smooth blue stones in the bottom.
He sees her gaze, and says, "It matched," smiling just a little before returning to the business before them. But Presea grinned all the way back home.