sideways | 3 sentence fics

Going through old files, I realised I never cross-posted the assorted non-Raksuran entries from the 3-sentence write-a-thon I participated in last year. I don't half mind them even now, so they may as well go in the archives!

Fandom: The Mandalorian (Din & Kuiil)
Prompt: Forgiveness, I think? Finding peace?

Nevarro isn’t fitting. There’s a restlessness in the very earth, reflected in its people; not a place of peace, but of hidden eyes and looks turned aside, any bond best kept close to heart and buried underground to keep it from those who'd fashion it into a snare.

It's all there is to offer, and Din leaves bruised fingertips touched to the stone a moment longer, the apology as silent as the sky in the rare quiet of dawn.

Fandom: Tortall (Alanna & the Goddess)
Prompt: "I'm getting too old for this shit."

There was a pause, heavy as the bowed belly of the moon at full, before Alanna added, begrudgingly: "With all due respect."

The Goddess smiled, and the fond brush of her fingers against Alanna's cheek was no less the master's indulgence with their favourite hunting hound, the keeper's pride in their lion cub grown to strength and snarl, the mother's sorrow over life's hardships etching deeper into the wrinkled corners of mouth and eyes. "And you were too young for these burdens when I came to you first - there is never a right time, with mortals."

Fandom: The Old Kingdom (Bel & Mogget)
Prompt: Friendship

He's impatient, he knows (because Cousin Yan tells him so, once in words and then every time afterwards in the distant, weary scorn that crosses her face, right before she waves a hand to a sending and orders him brought another book on cloud formations, or scrolls on arias in adagio, or charts mapped by sailors on the Sea of Saere with curls of bright Charter inking forecasts in the margins) but still Bel climbs the stairs every evening to lie snug on his belly with chin rested on crossed arms and hum every melody he can make to the silent shapes mantled about the chamber.

Just to watch the flat yellow eyes slowly blink and shift to him, just to feel the rising warmth of other presence in the room that does not seek to oust his own from it, just so he will be a familiar voice to them and they will find him-

-a worthy friend, he thinks with determination.

It is a difficult scale he is working through (the Charter marks formed wobbly and wavering, raising a whimpering breeze that scarce stirs the dirt on the floor) the night Bel first notices the green eyes among the yellow; green eyes attached to white ears that flick in distant, weary scorn, and a little pink mouth that yawns widely and says, "Ugh, dreadful - if you must keep up this yodelling, then at least spare me the misery of being an entire semitone off - like this, now," and yowls a held note until Bel manages a tentative whistle to match it, and the Paperwings brighten in harmony as the marks start to slip easier, the shutters in the chamber starting to shiver and rattle for the first time.

Fandom: Dragon Age (Josephine, Inquisitor, Leliana)
Prompt: Cole's hat

Josephine's smile was a fixed battlement under siege, and steel no less sharp than a soldier's sword lined her whisper: "While the Rivaini ambassador is making some excellent points, I fear we are losing the attention of the room at large."

"Well I don't know what you want me to do about it," the Inquisitor replied through gritted teeth - lacking a diplomat's practiced mask, she had settled for the shelter of steepled fingers, behind which could be buried any number of grimaces and yawns - "unless you'd like me to leap upon the table to start, oh, I don't know, lighting beards on fire and pulling nugs out of Cole's hat."

At her other elbow, Leliana's plastered attentiveness lightened briefly into something genuine, and her interested murmur of, "Could you really?" was a perfect counterpart to Josephine's sighed, "Thank you, no, that won't be necessary."

Fandom: The Magnificent Seven TV Series (Buck & JD)
Prompt: Something about horses being good company

Buck follows rumour and chuckle out to the stables where J.D is building himself a fine sulk for the privilege of Cotton and company, whose warm sympathy seems more or less contingent on the brush the lad is holding.

"Horses just plain make more sense," the kid mutters into the shelter of a mane, and Buck clucks his tongue in understanding; never let it be said that courtship was an easy jig for any unfortunate enough not to be named Wilmington, and damned if J.D and Casey didn't seem committed to dancing the most complicated waltz their confused young hearts could muster, copious foot-treading and all.

The wallowing's just a pitiful view, though, so Buck says, "Thing is, J.D," in great and generous wisdom, slapping a hearty hand down on Cotton's rump, "either road'll see you someday saddled to an old nag, so you may's well get used to the sores," and neatly ducks the fistful of hay flung outraged at his head.