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More IN fic.
Eh. Not sure how I feel about this one. It's something that I've been turning around in my head, but...eh.
"They don't appreciate you."
"Your move."
"I just made it." He smirks, and she can look down and see that, yes, the board has changed. But that's not the move he's talking about, and she smiles faintly, shaking her head at him.
"I've seen better, dear." She waves a hand, and a white knight advances forward, harrying his left flank. They're playing in a secluded park, the scruffy tangle of vines around them littered with beer bottles and used condoms. A place of compromise.
He pouts, falsely. "You wound me." The knight is taken by a bishop. "And it remains the truth. They do not appreciate your gifts...you devote yourself to them, risk the lives of your Servitors every day, ask your people to bear the hardest burden of all, and what do they say?" He waves an impeccably manicured hand in a contemptuous motion. "Dilettante. Coward. Interfering. It must hurt."
She moves a pawn once space forward and smiles at him. "Are you done?"
"No," he snaps back, petulantly. "Look at your 'allies', sweetheart," the term of endearment is a purred curse, "they are dullards, butchers, and madmen. They understand nothing but the sword, and unfortunately, I don't mean that metaphorically." His sculpted lips pout again. "You would do better, down there. I know that it hurts you. The pain could go away. I could take it away."
She laughs at him, and his pout becomes a scowl. "You have drowned in your pain, Andre. Choked on it for so long that you've forgotten what clear air is like. I will not abandon those in my charge. And it's your move."
"They have abandoned you." The black rook advances on a white knight, and does something that, even in abstract, looks painful and obscene. She grimaces, and his low, husky chuckle caresses her Vessel's skin. "We could do amazing things together..."
"So come back," she returns quietly. "The door is open, Andre. We miss you. /I/ miss you." The white bishop moves forward, stopping one square short of taking the lecherous rook.
He stares at her for a long moment. His face drained of that half-playful, half-malicious smile, leaving only barren stone behind. Finally he slips his hand into the pocket of his shirt, and tosses a folded piece of paper at her. She catches it, and puts it in her own pocket, without taking her eyes from his. "Take the rook, Novalis."
"What if I don't?"
"Then you're a fool. I can put you in check in two, check-mate in five."
"Then you'd win. That's what you want, isn't it, Andre-dear?" She meets his wordless snarl with another warm, loving smile. Although that's the one word that she doesn't say around him. Another of their compromises.
He heaves a sigh and rises to stand over her, his current Vessel thin and studious, but still gorgeous. "This bores me. You have the names you came for, Angel. And in return, your healers will continue to attend to certain of my Servitors. That's the deal."
"That's the deal," she agrees, and waves a hand over the board. "but what about our game?"
"We'll finish it another time." Then he's gone, leaving only the scent of expensive perfume and night-sweat behind. With a glance, Novalis memorizes the layout of the board, and also rises.
"Check in three, check-mate in four, love," she whispers to the empty air. And she too is gone, to quietly put certain names in certain ears. By the time they reach the Sword, her touch will have been washed from them. But they will go where they are needed, and that's what matters.
There's more than one way to play a game.
EDIT: Removed eeeeevil smartquotes. I hope. :)
"They don't appreciate you."
"Your move."
"I just made it." He smirks, and she can look down and see that, yes, the board has changed. But that's not the move he's talking about, and she smiles faintly, shaking her head at him.
"I've seen better, dear." She waves a hand, and a white knight advances forward, harrying his left flank. They're playing in a secluded park, the scruffy tangle of vines around them littered with beer bottles and used condoms. A place of compromise.
He pouts, falsely. "You wound me." The knight is taken by a bishop. "And it remains the truth. They do not appreciate your gifts...you devote yourself to them, risk the lives of your Servitors every day, ask your people to bear the hardest burden of all, and what do they say?" He waves an impeccably manicured hand in a contemptuous motion. "Dilettante. Coward. Interfering. It must hurt."
She moves a pawn once space forward and smiles at him. "Are you done?"
"No," he snaps back, petulantly. "Look at your 'allies', sweetheart," the term of endearment is a purred curse, "they are dullards, butchers, and madmen. They understand nothing but the sword, and unfortunately, I don't mean that metaphorically." His sculpted lips pout again. "You would do better, down there. I know that it hurts you. The pain could go away. I could take it away."
She laughs at him, and his pout becomes a scowl. "You have drowned in your pain, Andre. Choked on it for so long that you've forgotten what clear air is like. I will not abandon those in my charge. And it's your move."
"They have abandoned you." The black rook advances on a white knight, and does something that, even in abstract, looks painful and obscene. She grimaces, and his low, husky chuckle caresses her Vessel's skin. "We could do amazing things together..."
"So come back," she returns quietly. "The door is open, Andre. We miss you. /I/ miss you." The white bishop moves forward, stopping one square short of taking the lecherous rook.
He stares at her for a long moment. His face drained of that half-playful, half-malicious smile, leaving only barren stone behind. Finally he slips his hand into the pocket of his shirt, and tosses a folded piece of paper at her. She catches it, and puts it in her own pocket, without taking her eyes from his. "Take the rook, Novalis."
"What if I don't?"
"Then you're a fool. I can put you in check in two, check-mate in five."
"Then you'd win. That's what you want, isn't it, Andre-dear?" She meets his wordless snarl with another warm, loving smile. Although that's the one word that she doesn't say around him. Another of their compromises.
He heaves a sigh and rises to stand over her, his current Vessel thin and studious, but still gorgeous. "This bores me. You have the names you came for, Angel. And in return, your healers will continue to attend to certain of my Servitors. That's the deal."
"That's the deal," she agrees, and waves a hand over the board. "but what about our game?"
"We'll finish it another time." Then he's gone, leaving only the scent of expensive perfume and night-sweat behind. With a glance, Novalis memorizes the layout of the board, and also rises.
"Check in three, check-mate in four, love," she whispers to the empty air. And she too is gone, to quietly put certain names in certain ears. By the time they reach the Sword, her touch will have been washed from them. But they will go where they are needed, and that's what matters.
There's more than one way to play a game.
EDIT: Removed eeeeevil smartquotes. I hope. :)
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Of course, for a second - before the rook started sprouting naughty-castle-bits - I saw a certain different pair at a chess table, hm? ;)
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Still, love (no pun intended) your Andre, and the rook argument, and Novalis's 'threat later, checkmate sooner', and ... yes. ^^
(Small suggestion: can you do anything about the smartquotes? [cough])
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