I'm just going to keep posting, damnit
Aug. 7th, 2006 10:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alexmegamiAlso: because I didn't put it up yesterday (it was on my personal computer, which has no internet, but now I have moved it to the den, so it now has internet! yay!), here is my "submission" for this week's writing challenge.
It is only 600 words, sadly. Was background for the D&D character that I made for a game Pat was going to run, although I don't know if that's going to happen. It doesn't really matter, but she's an elf. Time frame is the D&D equivalent of post-WWI.
And yes, while they live in the D&D equivalent of England, everything is named/nicknamed in German. SHUT UP. (Schatzi = "treasure", "Engelmaar" is "Angel-sea" or similar.)
“Come in.”
Elin entered the den, pausing briefly to execute a military bow. Her father was reading some report or another, and did not notice. Elin’s mouth took on a cynical set.
“Elin.” Her father sounded a bit surprised, as though he had forgotten that he had summoned her in the first place. “Schatzi. Please, sit.” She did, straight-backed. “You’re always so stiff,” he said regretfully. “The war is over, you know.”
“I know.” She had been instrumental in a few of the reconnaissance missions; of course she knew. They had won, after all. Not that she begrudged her father that; his command of Engelmaar’s Navy had gone unchallenged for years.
“Schatzi, it’s time for you to go looking for a husband. Your mother seems to think that the whole process is dreadfully unnecessary, given that your brothers and sisters are ready to get into the marriage business full steam ahead, but I loathe the idea that there’s some lordling out there that will miss your company.”
She looked at him for any signs of sarcasm. Almost dishearteningly, there weren’t any. He was serious. “There’s no one I’m interested in.”
“Of course there isn’t.” Was that pity in his eyes? Pelor damn him, it made her skin crawl. “You spent most of your best years in the Army and training. You barely know any of the peerage. Except your commanders, of course.” Most of the commanders were his age, relics from the old wars.
“I’m not interested in looking, either.”
His eyes were open, cold and wide, staring into the nothingness. If she let her imagination get away with her, she could almost see Pelor’s eyes reflected back at her in the dead officer’s gaze. She shuddered, pulling his eyelids down with her fingertips. One more of Engelmaar’s children dead, one more family putting a child beneath a war memorial.
“But why not?” She had not noticed how reedy her father’s voice was getting. His age ill fit him, or the man that she remembered him being.
“A few reasons.” She held up her hand, ticking her fingers off as she spoke. “First, most of the ‘peerage’ are nothing more than lazy windbags more devoted to the sound of their own voices than to the glory of Engelmaar. Second, most of the ones that weren’t self-absorbed died in the war. Third, if I married one of the smart ones that survived – assuming I didn’t get stuck with a coward – he’d be in the next war, and the next. Look how well that worked for you and Mother.”
“Your mother and I are quite happy.”
“Because you only really spent five years married, and not all of that at once,” Elin insisted. “If you weren’t at sea, she was on the field, and you were both gone for the Great War and the Rose Revolution.”
“So then it should work perfectly for you,” he said, beaming. “If you find someone you loathe, well – throw yourself into work. If not, then you can work together. For Engelmaar, of course.”
Elin narrowed her eyes. Her father had planned that pratfall, she was sure of it. For his part, he smiled unassumingly.
“I’m going to Vesperia,” she declared. It had only been a half-formed plan until now. “Most of the soliders are doing it. There will be more training there, and new terrain, and new battles.” And none of this marriage nonsense.
“Schatzi...” Her father sighed. “I can’t stop you, of course. If it will make you happy, and it will help others, then I wish you all of Pelor's blessings. But please consider staying? At the very least until Agnes’ knighting. She admires you so, you know.”
(to be continued, maybe?)
It is only 600 words, sadly. Was background for the D&D character that I made for a game Pat was going to run, although I don't know if that's going to happen. It doesn't really matter, but she's an elf. Time frame is the D&D equivalent of post-WWI.
And yes, while they live in the D&D equivalent of England, everything is named/nicknamed in German. SHUT UP. (Schatzi = "treasure", "Engelmaar" is "Angel-sea" or similar.)
“Come in.”
Elin entered the den, pausing briefly to execute a military bow. Her father was reading some report or another, and did not notice. Elin’s mouth took on a cynical set.
“Elin.” Her father sounded a bit surprised, as though he had forgotten that he had summoned her in the first place. “Schatzi. Please, sit.” She did, straight-backed. “You’re always so stiff,” he said regretfully. “The war is over, you know.”
“I know.” She had been instrumental in a few of the reconnaissance missions; of course she knew. They had won, after all. Not that she begrudged her father that; his command of Engelmaar’s Navy had gone unchallenged for years.
“Schatzi, it’s time for you to go looking for a husband. Your mother seems to think that the whole process is dreadfully unnecessary, given that your brothers and sisters are ready to get into the marriage business full steam ahead, but I loathe the idea that there’s some lordling out there that will miss your company.”
She looked at him for any signs of sarcasm. Almost dishearteningly, there weren’t any. He was serious. “There’s no one I’m interested in.”
“Of course there isn’t.” Was that pity in his eyes? Pelor damn him, it made her skin crawl. “You spent most of your best years in the Army and training. You barely know any of the peerage. Except your commanders, of course.” Most of the commanders were his age, relics from the old wars.
“I’m not interested in looking, either.”
His eyes were open, cold and wide, staring into the nothingness. If she let her imagination get away with her, she could almost see Pelor’s eyes reflected back at her in the dead officer’s gaze. She shuddered, pulling his eyelids down with her fingertips. One more of Engelmaar’s children dead, one more family putting a child beneath a war memorial.
“But why not?” She had not noticed how reedy her father’s voice was getting. His age ill fit him, or the man that she remembered him being.
“A few reasons.” She held up her hand, ticking her fingers off as she spoke. “First, most of the ‘peerage’ are nothing more than lazy windbags more devoted to the sound of their own voices than to the glory of Engelmaar. Second, most of the ones that weren’t self-absorbed died in the war. Third, if I married one of the smart ones that survived – assuming I didn’t get stuck with a coward – he’d be in the next war, and the next. Look how well that worked for you and Mother.”
“Your mother and I are quite happy.”
“Because you only really spent five years married, and not all of that at once,” Elin insisted. “If you weren’t at sea, she was on the field, and you were both gone for the Great War and the Rose Revolution.”
“So then it should work perfectly for you,” he said, beaming. “If you find someone you loathe, well – throw yourself into work. If not, then you can work together. For Engelmaar, of course.”
Elin narrowed her eyes. Her father had planned that pratfall, she was sure of it. For his part, he smiled unassumingly.
“I’m going to Vesperia,” she declared. It had only been a half-formed plan until now. “Most of the soliders are doing it. There will be more training there, and new terrain, and new battles.” And none of this marriage nonsense.
“Schatzi...” Her father sighed. “I can’t stop you, of course. If it will make you happy, and it will help others, then I wish you all of Pelor's blessings. But please consider staying? At the very least until Agnes’ knighting. She admires you so, you know.”
(to be continued, maybe?)
