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fic listing.
MISC.
someone will remember us, i say. Fragments of poetry.
sunrise sceneries. Poetry.
seen from one side. Letters.
fixtures. Poetry.
FICS WITHIN THE SAME UNIVERSE.
weaver of wiles. Sarica smiled, a dangerous, but bright smile that lit up his entire face. His horse sidestepped its own shadow and he steered it firmly back in the right direction. "Because you can’t truly own something whose subjection to you has been forced. You can only own what wants to be yours."
the flavour of night. "Which one of them was it tonight," Sarica asks after a minute of heavy silence, fixing his gaze on Timachus’ naked front, eyes running from his face and down, then back up. The same old blush, the one Sarica is really the only who can call forth, creeps into Timachus’ cheeks and he looks down himself as well.
a place where you can grow your wings. They had to keep it secret, their relationship. Slaves weren’t allowed to own anything in their own name, not even another person’s heart or body. Least of all that.
underneath. Timachus remembers why the fruits of Reece are famed for their sweetness.
solace in the strangest places. "That’s why you stay, Timachus." A day at the Sarica villa begins an hour before sunup. Even ten years later, Timachus still wakes with the slaves, listening to Qerim sweep the hallways as quietly as possible.
at least the hunters don't flatter. His mother’s hair smelled like myrtle, which was the herb she always burned for incense when sacrificing to the sea god in the mornings. Myrtle and seaweed. Timachus remembers the tart, sharp smell vividly, still. The story of how Dasmi became Timachus.
home. myrtle. Timachus was eleven years old, the first time he was taken to the temple to offer his prayer. He wrote only two words on the parchment. Neither was 'roof construction', both were in Efithian. There was no room for a third.
cushioning. Sarica scoffs. “You treat them with too much lenience.” “Not half the lenience you showed me,” Timachus replies. Timachus wonders whether you will ever be anything but a slave, when that was what you were first.
OTHER CHARACTERS.
10 knowledges concerning initial contact. Otanius.
by virtue. Sarica.
someone will remember us, i say. Fragments of poetry.
sunrise sceneries. Poetry.
seen from one side. Letters.
fixtures. Poetry.
FICS WITHIN THE SAME UNIVERSE.
weaver of wiles. Sarica smiled, a dangerous, but bright smile that lit up his entire face. His horse sidestepped its own shadow and he steered it firmly back in the right direction. "Because you can’t truly own something whose subjection to you has been forced. You can only own what wants to be yours."
the flavour of night. "Which one of them was it tonight," Sarica asks after a minute of heavy silence, fixing his gaze on Timachus’ naked front, eyes running from his face and down, then back up. The same old blush, the one Sarica is really the only who can call forth, creeps into Timachus’ cheeks and he looks down himself as well.
a place where you can grow your wings. They had to keep it secret, their relationship. Slaves weren’t allowed to own anything in their own name, not even another person’s heart or body. Least of all that.
underneath. Timachus remembers why the fruits of Reece are famed for their sweetness.
solace in the strangest places. "That’s why you stay, Timachus." A day at the Sarica villa begins an hour before sunup. Even ten years later, Timachus still wakes with the slaves, listening to Qerim sweep the hallways as quietly as possible.
at least the hunters don't flatter. His mother’s hair smelled like myrtle, which was the herb she always burned for incense when sacrificing to the sea god in the mornings. Myrtle and seaweed. Timachus remembers the tart, sharp smell vividly, still. The story of how Dasmi became Timachus.
home. myrtle. Timachus was eleven years old, the first time he was taken to the temple to offer his prayer. He wrote only two words on the parchment. Neither was 'roof construction', both were in Efithian. There was no room for a third.
cushioning. Sarica scoffs. “You treat them with too much lenience.” “Not half the lenience you showed me,” Timachus replies. Timachus wonders whether you will ever be anything but a slave, when that was what you were first.
OTHER CHARACTERS.
10 knowledges concerning initial contact. Otanius.
by virtue. Sarica.