Friendship

This is from ysabetwordsmith's first prompt.

“So, you and Corcoran really are just friends.”

The blood heir to Stilicho & Sons turned slowly to face the person addressing her.  It was one of the annoyances and mainstays of her life, someone who made their living as one of her grandfather’s eyes and ears.

“Adamski.”  She gave a sparse acknowledgement.

“You and Corcoran aren’t an item.”  He, probably a he, closed the distance between them with casual physical confidence.  “Your grandfather wanted to know.”

“Define ‘item’ please.”  Crisiant Stilicho had no qualms about discussing her private life with this person.  Adamski probably knew more about it than she did.  Sometimes she learned things.

“Physically intimate.”  With a raised eyebrow Adamski added, “Your grandfather’s definition, not mine.  His concern is that his negotiations for continuation of the bloodline will be honoured.”

“And what’s your definition?”  Adamski said some very interesting things sometimes.  Maybe another would be added to the one already dropped into this conversation.

“Emotional intimacy counts, despite your grandfather’s views.  Are you and Corcoran emotionally intimate?”  That question’s answer could be a weapon in the wrong hands.  Adamski was good at asking those questions.

“Corcoran’s my friend.  I was born into my family.  Business and family will select my allies.  My family will choose whom I marry and breed with.  My children will repeat the cycle.”  Crisiant paused for emphasis.  “Friendship is the one relationship I have control over.  My friendship with Corcoran is the closest relationship I can choose to have with anyone.  Are we emotionally intimate?  In some ways, yes.”

“Do you think a husband would object to your relationship with Corcoran?”  Adamski was looking...sympathetic.  That was new.

“Not if his family’s from our circles.”  No point in not being blunt about it.

“And could Corcoran accept you being physically intimate with your husband?”

Friendship

This is from ysabetwordsmith's first prompt.

“So, you and Corcoran really are just friends.”

The blood heir to Stilicho & Sons turned slowly to face the person addressing her.  It was one of the annoyances and mainstays of her life, someone who made their living as one of her grandfather’s eyes and ears.

“Adamski.”  She gave a sparse acknowledgement.

“You and Corcoran aren’t an item.”  He, probably a he, closed the distance between them with casual physical confidence.  “Your grandfather wanted to know.”

“Define ‘item’ please.”  Crisiant Stilicho had no qualms about discussing her private life with this person.  Adamski probably knew more about it than she did.  Sometimes she learned things.

“Physically intimate.”  With a raised eyebrow Adamski added, “Your grandfather’s definition, not mine.  His concern is that his negotiations for continuation of the bloodline will be honoured.”

“And what’s your definition?”  Adamski said some very interesting things sometimes.  Maybe another would be added to the one already dropped into this conversation.

“Emotional intimacy counts, despite your grandfather’s views.  Are you and Corcoran emotionally intimate?”  That question’s answer could be a weapon in the wrong hands.  Adamski was good at asking those questions.

“Corcoran’s my friend.  I was born into my family.  Business and family will select my allies.  My family will choose whom I marry and breed with.  My children will repeat the cycle.”  Crisiant paused for emphasis.  “Friendship is the one relationship I have control over.  My friendship with Corcoran is the closest relationship I can choose to have with anyone.  Are we emotionally intimate?  In some ways, yes.”

“Do you think a husband would object to your relationship with Corcoran?”  Adamski was looking...sympathetic.  That was new.

“Not if his family’s from our circles.”  No point in not being blunt about it.

“And could Corcoran accept you being physically intimate with your husband?”

The Coop

This was written to lilfluff's middle listed prompt.

Lurnea had taken the job because she needed the money.  It wasn’t good but the tips helped and there were bouncers to keep trouble at bay.  She and Liau were the exotics of their shift of dancers: dark golden coffee bean and palest latte skins contrasting with the yellow/pink white and olive of the others.

There was a new man on the stage door this evening.  Big and with a single eyebrow across his face.  Something about his body language made her think he was just that bit too happy to be here.  That made her wonder whether he even had a security licence; if they were going hire enthusiastic, untrained boofheads for security then, well, money wasn’t everything.

“Hi.”  He looked her up and down the way sleazy customers did.  “Auditioning?  Show me your moves and I might let you in.”

“I already work here.”  She wasn’t giving him the encouragement of a return surveillance.

“Then I’ll come backstage later and get a special preview of your act.”  He smirked as he let her in.  “The name’s Wolf by the way.  If you’re good, I might bite you.”

She hurried inside so he wouldn’t see her shudder.  If he was permanent, serious or both she couldn’t keep working here.

The other dancers in their dressing room were making up all over and double checking costumes.  “What do you think of the new doorman?”  That was Liau, applying eyeliner as she spoke.

“He’s a creep,” Lurnea spat it out, with feeling.  “He wants a ‘special preview.’  Said his name’s Wolf and threatened to bite me.”

“Indeed?”  That was Miss Falcon, the manager, barefoot on the grey faux fur rug in the middle of the room.  “We know how to deal with wolves around here.”

The Coop

This was written to lilfluff's middle listed prompt.

Lurnea had taken the job because she needed the money.  It wasn’t good but the tips helped and there were bouncers to keep trouble at bay.  She and Liau were the exotics of their shift of dancers: dark golden coffee bean and palest latte skins contrasting with the yellow/pink white and olive of the others.

There was a new man on the stage door this evening.  Big and with a single eyebrow across his face.  Something about his body language made her think he was just that bit too happy to be here.  That made her wonder whether he even had a security licence; if they were going hire enthusiastic, untrained boofheads for security then, well, money wasn’t everything.

“Hi.”  He looked her up and down the way sleazy customers did.  “Auditioning?  Show me your moves and I might let you in.”

“I already work here.”  She wasn’t giving him the encouragement of a return surveillance.

“Then I’ll come backstage later and get a special preview of your act.”  He smirked as he let her in.  “The name’s Wolf by the way.  If you’re good, I might bite you.”

She hurried inside so he wouldn’t see her shudder.  If he was permanent, serious or both she couldn’t keep working here.

The other dancers in their dressing room were making up all over and double checking costumes.  “What do you think of the new doorman?”  That was Liau, applying eyeliner as she spoke.

“He’s a creep,” Lurnea spat it out, with feeling.  “He wants a ‘special preview.’  Said his name’s Wolf and threatened to bite me.”

“Indeed?”  That was Miss Falcon, the manager, barefoot on the grey faux fur rug in the middle of the room.  “We know how to deal with wolves around here.”

Unicorn in a Dragon Pub

This was written to ysabetwordsmith's second prompt.

Frith walked into the bar and knew exactly why Lix had asked him to meet her in this pub.  She was breaking up with him and she’d picked a spot he’d want to spend as little time in as possible.  He looked around and was relieved to see that so soon after opening he was the only customer.  He bought a shandy, he’d need to keep his wits about him here, and found somewhere to sit.  His uniform’s unicorn patches stuck out like a sore thumb in here.

He hadn’t wanted to be in the unicorn auxiliaries, no-one did except girls who were deliberately pale and interesting.  Even they found a unicorn fixation only went so far when the day job was environmental health and there weren’t any actual unicorns left.  No, he’d wanted to be with the wyverns, the minotaurs or even, two of them walked in and he cringed behind a pillar to avoid being seen, the dragons.

That wasn’t surprising; this was a dragon auxiliary pub.  The trouble was they’d beat non-dragons half to death, with prejudice, for being in their pub.

These two sat down on the other side of the pillar and started talking loudly as if alone.

“So, is Lix coming herself?”

“Course not.  She just lures them in and sets them up.  Give her a photo of the aftermath, she’s happy.”

“Not a nice girl, our Lix.”

“No, and she can spot the ones that had hopes of joining us.  Says it’s more fun when we do them.”

Then quieter, carrying just to Frith’s side of the pillar.  “We know you’re there, friend, all alone in the wrong place.  With the war, Lix’ game has stopped being funny.  Leave now past the men’s behind you and we can pretend we never saw you.”

Unicorn in a Dragon Pub

This was written to ysabetwordsmith's second prompt.

Frith walked into the bar and knew exactly why Lix had asked him to meet her in this pub.  She was breaking up with him and she’d picked a spot he’d want to spend as little time in as possible.  He looked around and was relieved to see that so soon after opening he was the only customer.  He bought a shandy, he’d need to keep his wits about him here, and found somewhere to sit.  His uniform’s unicorn patches stuck out like a sore thumb in here.

He hadn’t wanted to be in the unicorn auxiliaries, no-one did except girls who were deliberately pale and interesting.  Even they found a unicorn fixation only went so far when the day job was environmental health and there weren’t any actual unicorns left.  No, he’d wanted to be with the wyverns, the minotaurs or even, two of them walked in and he cringed behind a pillar to avoid being seen, the dragons.

That wasn’t surprising; this was a dragon auxiliary pub.  The trouble was they’d beat non-dragons half to death, with prejudice, for being in their pub.

These two sat down on the other side of the pillar and started talking loudly as if alone.

“So, is Lix coming herself?”

“Course not.  She just lures them in and sets them up.  Give her a photo of the aftermath, she’s happy.”

“Not a nice girl, our Lix.”

“No, and she can spot the ones that had hopes of joining us.  Says it’s more fun when we do them.”

Then quieter, carrying just to Frith’s side of the pillar.  “We know you’re there, friend, all alone in the wrong place.  With the war, Lix’ game has stopped being funny.  Leave now past the men’s behind you and we can pretend we never saw you.”