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peopleofthedas2010-10-06 06:23 pm
twist_shimmy) wrote in peopleofthedas2010-10-06 06:23 pm
Prompt Response: The Happiest Anders Has Ever Been
::EDIT:: Well, that sucks. I just noticed the first paragraph didn't get posted in. Have added that back.
Title: The Happiest Anders Has Ever Been
Rating: E
Word Count: 522
Summary: Anders breaks out, but can't stay gone.
Prompt:
Anders has one strong memory from his childhood, and it’s his life’s goal to relive it. Well, if he were asked, he would say that his life’s goal is to end up on a ship bound for Nevarra giving oiled, naked women low-grade frost spells to keep them cool while they sunbathe, but that’s because people tend to stare if one admits that their one big dream involves turnips.
In the memory he’s four, running through rows of wheat in search of his older sister, who is helping their father in their vegetable garden. It’s a sunny day, and the rain from yesterday has made everything smell alive.
That’s the only way to describe it. The Circle Tower certainly never smelled alive. If anything, it smelled like Senior Enchanter Sweeney had looked since the day Anders was dragged through the main doors by the collar of his shirt. To smell alive, a thing needed dirt, and grass, and water. Young Anders didn’t know much when his first spell came and took him away from his family, but he did know the difference between life and death, and the Templars were a pack of sodding, buggered fools if they thought he was going to stick around in a place that had been rotting for centuries.
They’ll take him back. They always take him back. But this time he’s finally found what he was looking for, and is sprawled on his back in the middle of some backwater farm in the Bannorn, eyes closed, and smelling life. He can hear their boots as they trample the poor farmer’s corn seeking him out, but he doesn’t run. The best part of his capture is always the look on Rylock’s face when she finds him and he seems completely apathetic to both her presence and her exhaustive pursuit.
They encircle him, and he can smell the mud on their boots before he opens his eyes. He smiles up at Rylock and pillows his head with his arm. “You look peaked. Care to join me?”
“Anders, this is the third time this year.”
“I missed you.”
Her face flushes scarlet. “Get up.”
“Make me.”
One of the Templars grabs him by the shoulders and hauls him to his feet. Anders rises obligingly, but pulls free when they try to tie his hands. “I’m just fine this way, thank you.”
“Drop the radish. You know better than to make this hard.”
“This, my sweet, is a turnip. And I’m keeping it.”
She crosses her arms. “What, did you break out because the kitchens don’t give enough variety in their salads? Come on, mage.” Rylock smacks the turnip from his hands and shoves him into a walk.
He wants to tell her that no, he didn’t break out because of salad. He broke out because his best memory, the one that feels most alive, ends with a turnip patch and a sister in pigtails who teaches him how to make leaf whistles instead of coming in to dinner like she was supposed to.
Later, in solitary confinement, he whistles to himself and wonders if this memory is the only thing that has kept him sane.
Title: The Happiest Anders Has Ever Been
Rating: E
Word Count: 522
Summary: Anders breaks out, but can't stay gone.
Prompt:
Anders has one strong memory from his childhood, and it’s his life’s goal to relive it. Well, if he were asked, he would say that his life’s goal is to end up on a ship bound for Nevarra giving oiled, naked women low-grade frost spells to keep them cool while they sunbathe, but that’s because people tend to stare if one admits that their one big dream involves turnips.
In the memory he’s four, running through rows of wheat in search of his older sister, who is helping their father in their vegetable garden. It’s a sunny day, and the rain from yesterday has made everything smell alive.
That’s the only way to describe it. The Circle Tower certainly never smelled alive. If anything, it smelled like Senior Enchanter Sweeney had looked since the day Anders was dragged through the main doors by the collar of his shirt. To smell alive, a thing needed dirt, and grass, and water. Young Anders didn’t know much when his first spell came and took him away from his family, but he did know the difference between life and death, and the Templars were a pack of sodding, buggered fools if they thought he was going to stick around in a place that had been rotting for centuries.
They’ll take him back. They always take him back. But this time he’s finally found what he was looking for, and is sprawled on his back in the middle of some backwater farm in the Bannorn, eyes closed, and smelling life. He can hear their boots as they trample the poor farmer’s corn seeking him out, but he doesn’t run. The best part of his capture is always the look on Rylock’s face when she finds him and he seems completely apathetic to both her presence and her exhaustive pursuit.
They encircle him, and he can smell the mud on their boots before he opens his eyes. He smiles up at Rylock and pillows his head with his arm. “You look peaked. Care to join me?”
“Anders, this is the third time this year.”
“I missed you.”
Her face flushes scarlet. “Get up.”
“Make me.”
One of the Templars grabs him by the shoulders and hauls him to his feet. Anders rises obligingly, but pulls free when they try to tie his hands. “I’m just fine this way, thank you.”
“Drop the radish. You know better than to make this hard.”
“This, my sweet, is a turnip. And I’m keeping it.”
She crosses her arms. “What, did you break out because the kitchens don’t give enough variety in their salads? Come on, mage.” Rylock smacks the turnip from his hands and shoves him into a walk.
He wants to tell her that no, he didn’t break out because of salad. He broke out because his best memory, the one that feels most alive, ends with a turnip patch and a sister in pigtails who teaches him how to make leaf whistles instead of coming in to dinner like she was supposed to.
Later, in solitary confinement, he whistles to himself and wonders if this memory is the only thing that has kept him sane.