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seikilosNot today, though. Two more for your reading pleasure (?).
Title: A Thorough Analysis
Fandom: Tales of Symphonia
Theme: #1 - hazel eyes
Genre: Genfic.
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I don't own Tales of Symphonia.
Summary: After months without a vacation, one afternoon, Yuan finds his attention wandering.
Spoilers? Spoilers for the purpose of the Renegades and for what Cruxis really is.
Waiting for Botta to arrive for their meeting to discuss the current state of the Renegades’ finances, Yuan idly doodled on the stack of reports in front of him. For some reason, he was having trouble focusing on, well, everything. He wasn’t precisely sure why—he wasn’t overtired and the work was no more boring than usual. Regardless, Yuan simply couldn’t seem to pay attention to his work.
He was a little worried about that. After all, the task of fighting Yggdrasill grew more important by the day. Every Chosen that was sent off on the Journey of Regeneration meant Yggdrasill was one step closer to success. Yuan simply could not allow that, and therefore he could not afford to lose focus for even a day.
Rubbing his face with his hands, Yuan tried to recall the last time he had taken a day off. Was it last month? No, he had been planning on having a vacation day, but then there was that business with the Desian spy discovered within their ranks and the resulting fallout had taken a full week to sort out, even when he had delegated like mad.
Catching himself sketching out not the latest automated sentry design, but a close-up of—yes, that was a daisy, Yuan shoved the papers aside in disgust. After this meeting, he was either going to have to do something mindless but needful, like reorganising his files, or he was going to have to take the day off altogether.
While he was contemplating his decision, a knock came at the door. Yuan checked the clock on his desk. Two o’clock on the dot; Botta was nothing if not punctual.
“Come in, Botta,” he called.
Botta entered, walked to the front of Yuan’s desk, and saluted.
Yuan nodded. “At ease. In fact,” he added as Botta relaxed his position slightly, “pull up that chair and sit down.”
Botta looked for and noticed the armless chair in the corner that Yuan had indicated. He carried it in front of the desk, then sat, posture erect.
“Why don’t you begin by giving your report?” Yuan suggested.
“Very well, sir.”
Botta began to speak. Yuan did his best to focus on what his subordinate was saying, but inevitably his attention began to wander. Despite his efforts to pay attention, he found himself taking a good look at Botta, something he rarely, if ever, did. Telling himself it was a good exercise in which to partake on the off chance someone attempted to impersonate Botta and conveniently ignoring the fact that it would be awfully hard to impersonate someone as unusually large as his second-in-command, he took a good look.
Starting with Botta’s beard, Yuan subjected his subordinate to a thorough analysis, all the while listening to the report with half an ear. After suitably memorising the shape and colour of Botta’s beard, Yuan moved his gaze up to his lips, teeth, and tongue, then to his nose, before letting his gaze come to a rest on Botta’s dark hazel eyes.
Hmm. Botta has nice eyes, Yuan decided. I’d think it was odd I’d never noticed before if it weren’t for the fact that I hardly recruit people based on whether I like the colour of their eyes or not. He snorted gently at that.
“Sir?” Yuan heard Botta ask.
Yuan raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Botta?”
Botta, seeming as though he realised Yuan was not paying particular attention to his report, was giving his superior a slightly questioning look.
“Carry on,” Yuan said, shuffling a few papers at random.
“Yes, sir.”
Botta continued his report. Yuan continued his observations.
As nice and clear of eyes as Botta had, Yuan found he couldn’t discern what Botta was thinking by looking into them. Not that Yuan could often tell anything at all from people’s eyes, of course. He didn’t believe in that old misconception that one could read a person’s inner thoughts from their eyes alone and thought those who tried were rather stupid. It was the selection of words a person used, what they avoided saying, and the actions performed when there were no obvious observers upon which Yuan preferred to rely.
“Sir?” This time Botta had relaxed his discipline enough to give his superior an odd look.
“Botta, before you continue your report, I think you would benefit from reading these,” Yuan said abruptly, to save face.
He picked up the stack of papers that was lying on his desk and shoved them into Botta’s arms.
Botta raised his eyebrows but took the stack and hugged them to his chest.
“Is there anything else, sir?” he asked, standing.
“No, that’s everything. Dismissed, Botta.”
Botta gave a slightly awkward salute, being restricted by the papers he carried. Then he left to look after his suddenly augmented workload.
As soon as the door slid shut behind Botta, Yuan rubbed at his temples. He had managed to come out of that situation with his dignity relatively intact, but as for the rest of the day. . . .
He got up from his desk and walked into his private chambers, where he undressed somewhat and climbed into bed to take a nap. He was just settling back against the pillows when he realised something that made him groan aloud: He had sent the report covered in daisy doodles with Botta. Yuan could only imagine Botta’s reaction to the various sketches.
Too late now, Yuan thought, closing his eyes. I’m not moving. Botta will just have to be entertained by my dubious art skills.
Which, to a complete lack of surprise on Yuan’s part, Botta was.
Title: Slapstick Conditions
Fandom: Tales of Symphonia
Theme: #5 - collide
Genre: Mostly genfic. One tiny hint of romance (Yuan/Botta).
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I don't own Tales of Symphonia.
Summary: Slippery, newly-waxed floors + sudden movements = a temporary removal of dignity on the part of everyone's favourite Renegades.
Spoilers? Relatively spoiler-free.
“Be careful, Lord Yuan,” a Renegade called out, voice cheerful, as she walked in the opposite direction as him. “They’ve just finished waxing the floors in the entire southern quarter of the base.”
“Right.” Yuan nodded once and kept walking. “Thanks for the warning.”
As he walked on the newly waxed floors, Yuan noticed that they were considerably slipperier than before the waxing, something he resolved to bring up with the janitorial staff. After all, if everyone had to keep tiptoeing around so they wouldn’t fall, it would lower productivity and raise the potential for accidents. The soldiers had enough trouble with Desian-inflicted injuries; there certainly was no need for them to be in danger in their very own bases.
He stopped walking and frowned at the shiny floor for a few moments. Doubtless the Renegades in charge of handing out cleaning duty would have an idea of something they could use to clean the floors without rendering them a hazard to the general health of the entire base.
“Lord Yuan?” a voice asked from directly behind him.
Yuan turned to address the speaker and found his feet slipping out from underneath him. He crashed into the person behind him and felt two strong arms circle his upper body in a hug of sorts. Then the person behind him also lost his purchase on the slick floor and the two of them found themselves on the ground in a heap.
Yuan lay back and groaned.
“Lord Yuan, are you all right?” Botta asked him from his position beneath his superior.
“This is exactly why I need to speak with the janitorial staff,” Yuan said instead of answering, surprisingly comfortable where he was lying with his head on Botta’s chest.
Deciding not to think about that for the moment, he sat up and asked, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“Not much, sir.” Botta winced as his bruised elbow bumped against the floor when he made an attempt to sit up as well.
“Twice in a week you’ve collided with me, Botta. You’re getting clumsy.”
“Sorry, sir.”
Yuan regarded Botta with an amused look. “Of course you aren’t going to say it’s my fault as well, no matter how truthful that is.”
“No, sir.” Botta tried to stand but couldn’t manage to get a grip on the floor with his boots.
Yuan snorted again, at both Botta’s answer and his problems with standing. He didn’t find it quite so funny, however, when he tried to stand himself and couldn’t quite manage it.
“What in the world do they put in this floor wax—banana peels?” he grumbled under his breath.
“Here, sir.”
Having finally been able to stand himself, Botta held out a hand. Yuan took it with slight ill grace, directed at himself, of course, rather than at Botta. When Botta tried to pull him to his feet, Yuan lost his balance again, and the whole process started anew.
Hearing stifled sniggers, Yuan looked around and saw a pair of Renegades openly enjoying the sight of the two most senior members of the organisation in what could easily have been a scripted slapstick play.
“I suppose you’ll find it amusing when I dock your pay for insubordination, won’t you?” Yuan snapped at them while Botta slid his way over to a wall and used it for support in his attempts to stand.
“No, Lord Yuan,” the two chorused, roughly at the same time.
“Hmph.” Yuan ignored them and instead dedicated his full attention to standing.
“If you use the wall, it should make it easier,” Botta said from where he was now on his feet.
“Right.” He glared at the observing Renegades until they remembered duties that needed to be carried out. Then he half swam over to the wall and finally managed to stand.
“That’s it. I don’t care how good this wax makes the floors look—the damned stuff has to go.” Yuan slowly and carefully started for the janitorial office.
A yell and a loud thud in the direction the two observing Renegades had gone made him pause.
“On second thought,” he said, clearly amused, “I think I’ll go make certain our two fine soldiers are unhurt first.”
Botta simply shook his head and watched Yuan go.
Title: A Thorough Analysis
Fandom: Tales of Symphonia
Theme: #1 - hazel eyes
Genre: Genfic.
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I don't own Tales of Symphonia.
Summary: After months without a vacation, one afternoon, Yuan finds his attention wandering.
Spoilers? Spoilers for the purpose of the Renegades and for what Cruxis really is.
Waiting for Botta to arrive for their meeting to discuss the current state of the Renegades’ finances, Yuan idly doodled on the stack of reports in front of him. For some reason, he was having trouble focusing on, well, everything. He wasn’t precisely sure why—he wasn’t overtired and the work was no more boring than usual. Regardless, Yuan simply couldn’t seem to pay attention to his work.
He was a little worried about that. After all, the task of fighting Yggdrasill grew more important by the day. Every Chosen that was sent off on the Journey of Regeneration meant Yggdrasill was one step closer to success. Yuan simply could not allow that, and therefore he could not afford to lose focus for even a day.
Rubbing his face with his hands, Yuan tried to recall the last time he had taken a day off. Was it last month? No, he had been planning on having a vacation day, but then there was that business with the Desian spy discovered within their ranks and the resulting fallout had taken a full week to sort out, even when he had delegated like mad.
Catching himself sketching out not the latest automated sentry design, but a close-up of—yes, that was a daisy, Yuan shoved the papers aside in disgust. After this meeting, he was either going to have to do something mindless but needful, like reorganising his files, or he was going to have to take the day off altogether.
While he was contemplating his decision, a knock came at the door. Yuan checked the clock on his desk. Two o’clock on the dot; Botta was nothing if not punctual.
“Come in, Botta,” he called.
Botta entered, walked to the front of Yuan’s desk, and saluted.
Yuan nodded. “At ease. In fact,” he added as Botta relaxed his position slightly, “pull up that chair and sit down.”
Botta looked for and noticed the armless chair in the corner that Yuan had indicated. He carried it in front of the desk, then sat, posture erect.
“Why don’t you begin by giving your report?” Yuan suggested.
“Very well, sir.”
Botta began to speak. Yuan did his best to focus on what his subordinate was saying, but inevitably his attention began to wander. Despite his efforts to pay attention, he found himself taking a good look at Botta, something he rarely, if ever, did. Telling himself it was a good exercise in which to partake on the off chance someone attempted to impersonate Botta and conveniently ignoring the fact that it would be awfully hard to impersonate someone as unusually large as his second-in-command, he took a good look.
Starting with Botta’s beard, Yuan subjected his subordinate to a thorough analysis, all the while listening to the report with half an ear. After suitably memorising the shape and colour of Botta’s beard, Yuan moved his gaze up to his lips, teeth, and tongue, then to his nose, before letting his gaze come to a rest on Botta’s dark hazel eyes.
Hmm. Botta has nice eyes, Yuan decided. I’d think it was odd I’d never noticed before if it weren’t for the fact that I hardly recruit people based on whether I like the colour of their eyes or not. He snorted gently at that.
“Sir?” Yuan heard Botta ask.
Yuan raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Botta?”
Botta, seeming as though he realised Yuan was not paying particular attention to his report, was giving his superior a slightly questioning look.
“Carry on,” Yuan said, shuffling a few papers at random.
“Yes, sir.”
Botta continued his report. Yuan continued his observations.
As nice and clear of eyes as Botta had, Yuan found he couldn’t discern what Botta was thinking by looking into them. Not that Yuan could often tell anything at all from people’s eyes, of course. He didn’t believe in that old misconception that one could read a person’s inner thoughts from their eyes alone and thought those who tried were rather stupid. It was the selection of words a person used, what they avoided saying, and the actions performed when there were no obvious observers upon which Yuan preferred to rely.
“Sir?” This time Botta had relaxed his discipline enough to give his superior an odd look.
“Botta, before you continue your report, I think you would benefit from reading these,” Yuan said abruptly, to save face.
He picked up the stack of papers that was lying on his desk and shoved them into Botta’s arms.
Botta raised his eyebrows but took the stack and hugged them to his chest.
“Is there anything else, sir?” he asked, standing.
“No, that’s everything. Dismissed, Botta.”
Botta gave a slightly awkward salute, being restricted by the papers he carried. Then he left to look after his suddenly augmented workload.
As soon as the door slid shut behind Botta, Yuan rubbed at his temples. He had managed to come out of that situation with his dignity relatively intact, but as for the rest of the day. . . .
He got up from his desk and walked into his private chambers, where he undressed somewhat and climbed into bed to take a nap. He was just settling back against the pillows when he realised something that made him groan aloud: He had sent the report covered in daisy doodles with Botta. Yuan could only imagine Botta’s reaction to the various sketches.
Too late now, Yuan thought, closing his eyes. I’m not moving. Botta will just have to be entertained by my dubious art skills.
Which, to a complete lack of surprise on Yuan’s part, Botta was.
Title: Slapstick Conditions
Fandom: Tales of Symphonia
Theme: #5 - collide
Genre: Mostly genfic. One tiny hint of romance (Yuan/Botta).
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I don't own Tales of Symphonia.
Summary: Slippery, newly-waxed floors + sudden movements = a temporary removal of dignity on the part of everyone's favourite Renegades.
Spoilers? Relatively spoiler-free.
“Be careful, Lord Yuan,” a Renegade called out, voice cheerful, as she walked in the opposite direction as him. “They’ve just finished waxing the floors in the entire southern quarter of the base.”
“Right.” Yuan nodded once and kept walking. “Thanks for the warning.”
As he walked on the newly waxed floors, Yuan noticed that they were considerably slipperier than before the waxing, something he resolved to bring up with the janitorial staff. After all, if everyone had to keep tiptoeing around so they wouldn’t fall, it would lower productivity and raise the potential for accidents. The soldiers had enough trouble with Desian-inflicted injuries; there certainly was no need for them to be in danger in their very own bases.
He stopped walking and frowned at the shiny floor for a few moments. Doubtless the Renegades in charge of handing out cleaning duty would have an idea of something they could use to clean the floors without rendering them a hazard to the general health of the entire base.
“Lord Yuan?” a voice asked from directly behind him.
Yuan turned to address the speaker and found his feet slipping out from underneath him. He crashed into the person behind him and felt two strong arms circle his upper body in a hug of sorts. Then the person behind him also lost his purchase on the slick floor and the two of them found themselves on the ground in a heap.
Yuan lay back and groaned.
“Lord Yuan, are you all right?” Botta asked him from his position beneath his superior.
“This is exactly why I need to speak with the janitorial staff,” Yuan said instead of answering, surprisingly comfortable where he was lying with his head on Botta’s chest.
Deciding not to think about that for the moment, he sat up and asked, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“Not much, sir.” Botta winced as his bruised elbow bumped against the floor when he made an attempt to sit up as well.
“Twice in a week you’ve collided with me, Botta. You’re getting clumsy.”
“Sorry, sir.”
Yuan regarded Botta with an amused look. “Of course you aren’t going to say it’s my fault as well, no matter how truthful that is.”
“No, sir.” Botta tried to stand but couldn’t manage to get a grip on the floor with his boots.
Yuan snorted again, at both Botta’s answer and his problems with standing. He didn’t find it quite so funny, however, when he tried to stand himself and couldn’t quite manage it.
“What in the world do they put in this floor wax—banana peels?” he grumbled under his breath.
“Here, sir.”
Having finally been able to stand himself, Botta held out a hand. Yuan took it with slight ill grace, directed at himself, of course, rather than at Botta. When Botta tried to pull him to his feet, Yuan lost his balance again, and the whole process started anew.
Hearing stifled sniggers, Yuan looked around and saw a pair of Renegades openly enjoying the sight of the two most senior members of the organisation in what could easily have been a scripted slapstick play.
“I suppose you’ll find it amusing when I dock your pay for insubordination, won’t you?” Yuan snapped at them while Botta slid his way over to a wall and used it for support in his attempts to stand.
“No, Lord Yuan,” the two chorused, roughly at the same time.
“Hmph.” Yuan ignored them and instead dedicated his full attention to standing.
“If you use the wall, it should make it easier,” Botta said from where he was now on his feet.
“Right.” He glared at the observing Renegades until they remembered duties that needed to be carried out. Then he half swam over to the wall and finally managed to stand.
“That’s it. I don’t care how good this wax makes the floors look—the damned stuff has to go.” Yuan slowly and carefully started for the janitorial office.
A yell and a loud thud in the direction the two observing Renegades had gone made him pause.
“On second thought,” he said, clearly amused, “I think I’ll go make certain our two fine soldiers are unhurt first.”
Botta simply shook his head and watched Yuan go.
