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fandomweekly2016-02-19 05:06 pm
corvinity) wrote in fandomweekly2016-02-19 05:06 pm
Entry tags:
[#003] Near Miss (Skulduggery Pleasant)
Theme Prompt: Domestic Bliss
Title: Near Miss
Fandom: Skulduggery Pleasant
Rating/Warnings: PG; implied past violence, implied attempts at fratricide.
Bonus: No
Word Count: 827
Summary: “Valkyrie had never seen a brother and sister regard each other with as much wariness as they did.”
China’s apartment was in disarray. Her library was in better shape-- barely anything had been displaced by Baron Vengeous’ campaign of intimidation. She surveyed it briefly anyway, sharp gaze missing nothing as she scanned the stacks. Her assistant had books in his arms, and paused only to nod to her before returning to shelving. He was bruised, but Vengeous had left him alive. Things would go back to normal.
Mr Bliss was a too-solid presence behind her left shoulder, the weight of his regard heavy on the back of her neck. China kept her spine ramrod-straight, and though she did not look at him the rest of her senses were trained unerringly on him. Fabric rustled, shifted against itself.
China didn’t need to see him for her mind to provide the image. Arms folded, expression set. Likely watching her, rather than the library. Bliss didn’t know what to expect from her, but he was here anyway.
Regrettably, the feelings were mutual. China turned abruptly, and brushed past him, heading across the hall to her apartment. That would require more putting in order.
At least they were past the point of trying to kill each other. For now.
Bliss followed, steps heavy on the carpet behind her. He stopped beside her this time, not behind, and they considered her apartment together, heads tilted at almost the same angle.
No furniture was now left in its original position, as China had thrown all of it at Vengeous to depressingly little effect. Splinters of wood, some just small enough to be annoying and others large enough to kill a man with some force, decorated everything from the carpet to one of the paintings on the wall.
China frowned at that. She’d liked that painting.
Still, all told the damage was less than it might have been, and apart from some passing pain in her shoulders -- ignorable -- she had come out of it unscathed. The furniture would be simple enough to return to its original positions, though she was now down a table. She’d liked that table, too, and the artisan was long since dead.
Mr Bliss moved as she contemplated, drawing China’s attention from her thoughts, but it wasn’t sudden movement, only deliberate. She tracked his progress with more focus than even Vengeous had warranted. Vengeous had been terribly predictable. Her brother...
Her brother was not, inscrutable even now.
He bent, reaching for one of the heavy armchairs that had been upended. China watched creases in his suit form, watched the way muscle shifted and shoulders set. Watched for any sign that he might plan to turn the chair into a weapon.
Bliss straightened with the chair in his hands, lifting it easily, and turned to her, looking a question across the space between them.
He wasn’t what she remembered. He would never be the brother she remembered from her youth; but then, she would never be the same sister, either. At least she could still read something beneath that impassivity, and in this case that something was the willingness to put her things in order.
It was so dreadfully mundane that China nearly laughed, struck by the absurdity of it. Everything that had passed between them, the war and the Faceless and his stint as a Cleaver, and yet here he was, rearranging her furniture.
“Here,” she said, crossing the central carpet and its carefully hidden sigilwork to tap a spot at one corner with her toe. “Here will do.”
His blue eyes, the match to her own, stayed on her rather than the furniture as he placed the chair where she’d indicated. China didn’t blame him, as many times as she’d tried to kill him. Instead she raised an eyebrow and lifted her chin, imperious. Challenging.
Bliss went to retrieve an end table.
It wasn’t the first time it had occurred to China, that the rift between them might not be irreparable. That the right words and she might have a brother again, instead of someone who needed to be so carefully watched. She’d thought him lost to her any number of times, even discounting the attempts she herself had made.
And yet anything in that direction would have to begin with an apology; or, failing that, some admission that she had been wrong. Which, of course, she had been, but to lower herself to admit it out loud to him, when he had tried to tell her so many times? No. No, he could read it in her actions if he chose, and perhaps someday he would come to her, instead.
They had time. Especially once this business with the Diablerie was quelled. She would see. Later.
For now China took her time about deciding where she wanted her furniture, and more than once changed her mind about the placement of a certain piece, mostly because she could. Bliss bore it, more or less patiently, but he did not say much.
Neither of them relaxed.
Title: Near Miss
Fandom: Skulduggery Pleasant
Rating/Warnings: PG; implied past violence, implied attempts at fratricide.
Bonus: No
Word Count: 827
Summary: “Valkyrie had never seen a brother and sister regard each other with as much wariness as they did.”
China’s apartment was in disarray. Her library was in better shape-- barely anything had been displaced by Baron Vengeous’ campaign of intimidation. She surveyed it briefly anyway, sharp gaze missing nothing as she scanned the stacks. Her assistant had books in his arms, and paused only to nod to her before returning to shelving. He was bruised, but Vengeous had left him alive. Things would go back to normal.
Mr Bliss was a too-solid presence behind her left shoulder, the weight of his regard heavy on the back of her neck. China kept her spine ramrod-straight, and though she did not look at him the rest of her senses were trained unerringly on him. Fabric rustled, shifted against itself.
China didn’t need to see him for her mind to provide the image. Arms folded, expression set. Likely watching her, rather than the library. Bliss didn’t know what to expect from her, but he was here anyway.
Regrettably, the feelings were mutual. China turned abruptly, and brushed past him, heading across the hall to her apartment. That would require more putting in order.
At least they were past the point of trying to kill each other. For now.
Bliss followed, steps heavy on the carpet behind her. He stopped beside her this time, not behind, and they considered her apartment together, heads tilted at almost the same angle.
No furniture was now left in its original position, as China had thrown all of it at Vengeous to depressingly little effect. Splinters of wood, some just small enough to be annoying and others large enough to kill a man with some force, decorated everything from the carpet to one of the paintings on the wall.
China frowned at that. She’d liked that painting.
Still, all told the damage was less than it might have been, and apart from some passing pain in her shoulders -- ignorable -- she had come out of it unscathed. The furniture would be simple enough to return to its original positions, though she was now down a table. She’d liked that table, too, and the artisan was long since dead.
Mr Bliss moved as she contemplated, drawing China’s attention from her thoughts, but it wasn’t sudden movement, only deliberate. She tracked his progress with more focus than even Vengeous had warranted. Vengeous had been terribly predictable. Her brother...
Her brother was not, inscrutable even now.
He bent, reaching for one of the heavy armchairs that had been upended. China watched creases in his suit form, watched the way muscle shifted and shoulders set. Watched for any sign that he might plan to turn the chair into a weapon.
Bliss straightened with the chair in his hands, lifting it easily, and turned to her, looking a question across the space between them.
He wasn’t what she remembered. He would never be the brother she remembered from her youth; but then, she would never be the same sister, either. At least she could still read something beneath that impassivity, and in this case that something was the willingness to put her things in order.
It was so dreadfully mundane that China nearly laughed, struck by the absurdity of it. Everything that had passed between them, the war and the Faceless and his stint as a Cleaver, and yet here he was, rearranging her furniture.
“Here,” she said, crossing the central carpet and its carefully hidden sigilwork to tap a spot at one corner with her toe. “Here will do.”
His blue eyes, the match to her own, stayed on her rather than the furniture as he placed the chair where she’d indicated. China didn’t blame him, as many times as she’d tried to kill him. Instead she raised an eyebrow and lifted her chin, imperious. Challenging.
Bliss went to retrieve an end table.
It wasn’t the first time it had occurred to China, that the rift between them might not be irreparable. That the right words and she might have a brother again, instead of someone who needed to be so carefully watched. She’d thought him lost to her any number of times, even discounting the attempts she herself had made.
And yet anything in that direction would have to begin with an apology; or, failing that, some admission that she had been wrong. Which, of course, she had been, but to lower herself to admit it out loud to him, when he had tried to tell her so many times? No. No, he could read it in her actions if he chose, and perhaps someday he would come to her, instead.
They had time. Especially once this business with the Diablerie was quelled. She would see. Later.
For now China took her time about deciding where she wanted her furniture, and more than once changed her mind about the placement of a certain piece, mostly because she could. Bliss bore it, more or less patiently, but he did not say much.
Neither of them relaxed.
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and thank you! <3