Renault fic Drabbles -- all precisely 100 words (letting my word processing program count them); all G-rated unless otherwise noted.
From The Charioteer
Nurse Adrian - 2/07
She won't spend another free day having tea in the village and writing home. Bridstow is exciting... no, be honest. Laurie's being discharged. Even if he writes, she may never see him again.
At the hospital she's directed to his ward; visiting hours are just beginning. She hears a familiar voice, and stops to peer round the turn in the stair. She can't hear what Laurie's saying, but the tone is angry, his body tense. The naval officer's face... Once, Bill and Vera had an awful row...
She turns, goes back out into the street, already denying what she's witnessed.
Alec's Birthday - 1/07
Alec paced, almost relieved Sandy had passed out. Silence was friendlier than groans reproaching him for yet again putting Ralph first. He'd been blind, uplifted by being entrusted with Odell even after Bim's thoughtless remark. Alec lingered in conversation, searching Odell for the quality that made him important to Ralph. He'd casually toted up and ordered Ralph's life for him, despite fighting over similar meddling by Ralph. Alec's brain taunted him, saying it wasn't the first time and wouldn't be the last. Damn it, when would Ralph return? Once he could do something practical, surely his hands would stop shaking.
Lucy Odell Straike - 1/07
Such a little thing, to agree her Spode wasn't necessary when they had his mother's china. And it was easiest to visit Laurie by bus, with petrol so dear, to keep Gareth in good temper. As for Gyp, how could she ask anyone to put up with that? She didn't miss her magazines or radio programs. But when Ellie hanged herself, Lucy sat at the table and sobbed, remembering the girl who'd played with Laurie. Perhaps if Gareth hadn't made an example of her pregnancy... Lucy stopped the thought half-formed and concentrated on measuring tea into the ugly green pot.
From The Persian Boy
His Boy (an entry from Hephaistion's journal, written circa 2005 for a challenge on the LJ maryrenaultfics community)
I saw Darius' boy riding by the river today. "Darius' boy," I still say, when to everyone else he is "Alexander's boy." Alexander, after all, is the one who gave him the steed, feeds and clothes him -- who accepts his service, and still pretends to me that it is merely a servant's duties the boy provides.
Everyone sees the glow on his face as he rides; the newly proud tilt to his head; the smile that lights his eyes when Alexander passes -- such signs are clear to all. Even to one who would remain willfully blind.
If only I could.
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