[Suikoden III] Not Without Strategic Value
Nov. 8th, 2009 11:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
runicloreNot Without Strategic Value
Author: Amber Michelle
Rating: K
Warnings: n/a
Word Count: 798
Prompt: Suikoden 3, Chris and Percival
................................................................
Chris wasn't one to drink, either with her subordinates or alone, but Percival promised the ramshackle place had amusement to offer besides ale, wine, and noise-- all unfortunately prominent characteristics of the place as far as she could see, having been a patron for less than ten minutes. A Grasslander ran the bar; her blonde hair brought Chief Lucia to mind, though this woman grew hers in long, loose curls. Chris watched her from a table in a dark corner by a window, offset from the rows arranged to encourage a view of the stage, and watched Percival's unarmored back as he leaned on the bar and made their order. A group of children sat cross-legged on the empty stage playing a dice game, five of the seven bar stools were occupied by people she didn't recognize; a lizard reclined on a stool with a book that shouldn't fit in his thick, scaly hand, a tall spear leaning on the wall at his side.
She tried not to look at the other tables and waited for Percival's shadow to darken her corner. He arrived with a tankard in one hand, a goblet of mulled cider in the other, which he placed on the table in front of her with an exaggerated bow. "Boris will have a fit when I tell him you refused to try the Redrum vintage."
"He should know better." Chris sipped her cider. It lanced her tongue, hotter than apple and cinnamon. Her eyes watered. "Percival--"
"Pepper," he said quickly, and his hand covered hers, helped her put the goblet down without spilling. "The Grasslanders put red pepper in theirs, or so I heard. Nearly killed me on my first gulp."
Chris coughed, rubbed her eyes dry. He averted his eyes while he drank, making it look as if the child's game on the stage had his attention, but the slight turn to his lips confirmed her suspicion. "Troublemaker."
"I live to serve," Percival said, mocking Boris's officious intonation. The way his brown eyes slanted back to glitter at her made her face warm. "But I brought you here for the play. Seems it's been canceled."
She stared at the golden cider in her goblet. The cup was plain, ceramic, brown on the outside and decorated with grooves, white on the inside to show off the depth of color and the swirl of spices, bits of seeds and leaves, gathering at the bottom. Their alliance with Karaya and the security force was still new, their residence at the manner called Budehuc Castle still tense, unstable, but in the week since her arrival, Chris had heard this barkeep took pride in the quality of her service. She looked like a common barmaid, but-- "What was it you wanted me to see?"
Steam curled from her cup. Wait for it to cool, she thought; Chris was no stranger to pepper, but one layer of heat was enough to bear. She watched Percival through the spiral of mist. His face softened around the edges and his expression lost its customary cynicism.
"It was part of an epic about the Dunan Unification war." Percival toyed with a bit of hemp tied around the handle of his tankard, holding it halfway to his mouth as if he'd forgotten he wanted to drink. "The confrontation with Harmonian forces. It's terrible, but popular, and relevant since the bishops we're facing now were involved."
Chris glanced at the stage. Light drifted in from a skylight in the slanted roof, illuminating dust, backdrops, furniture that looked unreliable, crates covered in white. If any light glimmered in the back beyond the curtains, she couldn't see it past the dancing motes of the sunbeams. "Just as well. It's only a dramatic retelling, and probably without strategic value."
Percival put his tankard down with a thump and hooked his ankle around a chair at the neighboring table, pulled it over, propped his feet up on it. "Maybe." He flicked a stray hair out of his face. "It's how they were defeated I thought would be interesting, not the tactics. Some wind mage--"
Her chin snapped up, and her cheeks only heated a little when she saw him watching her with a slight smile. "You could have said that before," Chris said, lips pressing together when she realized how snappish her tone was. "Since you've seen it already-- just tell me."
He laughed, ran a hand back through his hair and made a mess of it. "I have a better idea," Percival said, chair scraping back so he could stand. "I'll get the script and we can read it ourselves."
.........................................................
I had to end it - it was getting too sucktastic. I haven't written these characters in years. ;_;
Author: Amber Michelle
Rating: K
Warnings: n/a
Word Count: 798
Prompt: Suikoden 3, Chris and Percival
................................................................
Chris wasn't one to drink, either with her subordinates or alone, but Percival promised the ramshackle place had amusement to offer besides ale, wine, and noise-- all unfortunately prominent characteristics of the place as far as she could see, having been a patron for less than ten minutes. A Grasslander ran the bar; her blonde hair brought Chief Lucia to mind, though this woman grew hers in long, loose curls. Chris watched her from a table in a dark corner by a window, offset from the rows arranged to encourage a view of the stage, and watched Percival's unarmored back as he leaned on the bar and made their order. A group of children sat cross-legged on the empty stage playing a dice game, five of the seven bar stools were occupied by people she didn't recognize; a lizard reclined on a stool with a book that shouldn't fit in his thick, scaly hand, a tall spear leaning on the wall at his side.
She tried not to look at the other tables and waited for Percival's shadow to darken her corner. He arrived with a tankard in one hand, a goblet of mulled cider in the other, which he placed on the table in front of her with an exaggerated bow. "Boris will have a fit when I tell him you refused to try the Redrum vintage."
"He should know better." Chris sipped her cider. It lanced her tongue, hotter than apple and cinnamon. Her eyes watered. "Percival--"
"Pepper," he said quickly, and his hand covered hers, helped her put the goblet down without spilling. "The Grasslanders put red pepper in theirs, or so I heard. Nearly killed me on my first gulp."
Chris coughed, rubbed her eyes dry. He averted his eyes while he drank, making it look as if the child's game on the stage had his attention, but the slight turn to his lips confirmed her suspicion. "Troublemaker."
"I live to serve," Percival said, mocking Boris's officious intonation. The way his brown eyes slanted back to glitter at her made her face warm. "But I brought you here for the play. Seems it's been canceled."
She stared at the golden cider in her goblet. The cup was plain, ceramic, brown on the outside and decorated with grooves, white on the inside to show off the depth of color and the swirl of spices, bits of seeds and leaves, gathering at the bottom. Their alliance with Karaya and the security force was still new, their residence at the manner called Budehuc Castle still tense, unstable, but in the week since her arrival, Chris had heard this barkeep took pride in the quality of her service. She looked like a common barmaid, but-- "What was it you wanted me to see?"
Steam curled from her cup. Wait for it to cool, she thought; Chris was no stranger to pepper, but one layer of heat was enough to bear. She watched Percival through the spiral of mist. His face softened around the edges and his expression lost its customary cynicism.
"It was part of an epic about the Dunan Unification war." Percival toyed with a bit of hemp tied around the handle of his tankard, holding it halfway to his mouth as if he'd forgotten he wanted to drink. "The confrontation with Harmonian forces. It's terrible, but popular, and relevant since the bishops we're facing now were involved."
Chris glanced at the stage. Light drifted in from a skylight in the slanted roof, illuminating dust, backdrops, furniture that looked unreliable, crates covered in white. If any light glimmered in the back beyond the curtains, she couldn't see it past the dancing motes of the sunbeams. "Just as well. It's only a dramatic retelling, and probably without strategic value."
Percival put his tankard down with a thump and hooked his ankle around a chair at the neighboring table, pulled it over, propped his feet up on it. "Maybe." He flicked a stray hair out of his face. "It's how they were defeated I thought would be interesting, not the tactics. Some wind mage--"
Her chin snapped up, and her cheeks only heated a little when she saw him watching her with a slight smile. "You could have said that before," Chris said, lips pressing together when she realized how snappish her tone was. "Since you've seen it already-- just tell me."
He laughed, ran a hand back through his hair and made a mess of it. "I have a better idea," Percival said, chair scraping back so he could stand. "I'll get the script and we can read it ourselves."
.........................................................
I had to end it - it was getting too sucktastic. I haven't written these characters in years. ;_;
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*squeal!*
Date: 2009-11-10 03:09 am (UTC)Re: *squeal!*
Date: 2009-11-10 11:57 am (UTC)HELLO RIN FIC. :D :D :D Or did I ask for something else? Hell, I don't even remember.
Re: *squeal!*
Date: 2009-11-10 05:52 pm (UTC)I'm going to try and finish that today, but we'll see how that turns out.