sermocinare (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sermocinare) wrote2007-09-01 12:31 pm
sermocinare) wrote2007-09-01 12:31 pm
Entry tags:
I need to write more
And because of this, here's something that's been going through my mind for quite some time now. A snippet of the never-written novel. Some of you might recognize the main character. He will hate me for this.
The young officer flopped down onto his narrow bed with a deep, heart-filled groan, tossing his helmet to the floor, where it joined the rest of his gear. All he wanted to do right now was sleep, and maybe, just maybe, he would get his wish.
But apparently, the Gods were not on his side today, because just as he was getting comfortable on the matress, he heard a voice from the door. As usual, the owner of said voice hadn't bothered with knocking:
"Salve, Draco. So, how'd the campaign go?"
He growled slightly, not bothering to get up from his comfortable position:
"I don't want to talk about it, Tib. And by the way, just because you grew up in a tent doesn't mean you can just come barging in here."
Tibius raised his eyebrows, shaking his head slightly:
"Tsk. Someone seems to be in a very bad mood. And I don't have to be an empath to figure that out." Moving into the room, he pushed aside the discarded helmet with his foot, and sat down on the corner of the bed, grinning:
"I think it is my paramount duty as morale officer and best friend to cheer you up a bit. So, what're we going to do? Baths? Tavern?" The grin widened: "Orgy?"
"I don't know what you're going to be doing," Draco answered, rubbing his face with both hands and yawning, "but I'm not leaving this bed for the rest of the day."
"Suits me." Tibius regarded his friend with an impish leer, moving slightly closer.
"Get off my bed you damned sex maniac!" the other man roared, and within a split second, Tibius was pushed to the floor, laughing.
"I knew you still had some energy in you, Dracs. So quit the act and let's get going. You need to get your mind off whatever it was that's put you in you little cloud of gloom."
The dark-haird soldier scowled at his friend: "You're fucking insufferable, you know that?" But then he spread his hands in a gesture of capitulation, a grin forming around the edges of his lips: "I give up. I mean, after all, you won't leave me alone until you're satisfied with my mood, so..." he ran a hand through his hair, "baths? And then we'll see. But," he raised a finger at Tibius, "no orgy. Absolutely not. I still remember the last time. Or rather, I don't remember much of the last time, which is even worse."
Tibius shrugged, and tried unsuccessfully to look innocent of whatever debauchery his friend was accusing him of: "All right, no orgy." Getting up from the floor, he quickly dusted off his pants and moved towards the door: "Meet you at the bathhouse in half an hour, then."
"Mhm." With that, Draco let himself fall back on the bed, shaking his head once more. Well, a long, relaxing soak in the water would be nice, after all.
The young officer flopped down onto his narrow bed with a deep, heart-filled groan, tossing his helmet to the floor, where it joined the rest of his gear. All he wanted to do right now was sleep, and maybe, just maybe, he would get his wish.
But apparently, the Gods were not on his side today, because just as he was getting comfortable on the matress, he heard a voice from the door. As usual, the owner of said voice hadn't bothered with knocking:
"Salve, Draco. So, how'd the campaign go?"
He growled slightly, not bothering to get up from his comfortable position:
"I don't want to talk about it, Tib. And by the way, just because you grew up in a tent doesn't mean you can just come barging in here."
Tibius raised his eyebrows, shaking his head slightly:
"Tsk. Someone seems to be in a very bad mood. And I don't have to be an empath to figure that out." Moving into the room, he pushed aside the discarded helmet with his foot, and sat down on the corner of the bed, grinning:
"I think it is my paramount duty as morale officer and best friend to cheer you up a bit. So, what're we going to do? Baths? Tavern?" The grin widened: "Orgy?"
"I don't know what you're going to be doing," Draco answered, rubbing his face with both hands and yawning, "but I'm not leaving this bed for the rest of the day."
"Suits me." Tibius regarded his friend with an impish leer, moving slightly closer.
"Get off my bed you damned sex maniac!" the other man roared, and within a split second, Tibius was pushed to the floor, laughing.
"I knew you still had some energy in you, Dracs. So quit the act and let's get going. You need to get your mind off whatever it was that's put you in you little cloud of gloom."
The dark-haird soldier scowled at his friend: "You're fucking insufferable, you know that?" But then he spread his hands in a gesture of capitulation, a grin forming around the edges of his lips: "I give up. I mean, after all, you won't leave me alone until you're satisfied with my mood, so..." he ran a hand through his hair, "baths? And then we'll see. But," he raised a finger at Tibius, "no orgy. Absolutely not. I still remember the last time. Or rather, I don't remember much of the last time, which is even worse."
Tibius shrugged, and tried unsuccessfully to look innocent of whatever debauchery his friend was accusing him of: "All right, no orgy." Getting up from the floor, he quickly dusted off his pants and moved towards the door: "Meet you at the bathhouse in half an hour, then."
"Mhm." With that, Draco let himself fall back on the bed, shaking his head once more. Well, a long, relaxing soak in the water would be nice, after all.