Lucetific - Have all the adorable
Sep. 1st, 2014 02:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seikilosTitle: The Duties of a Host
Fandom:![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
luceti, Tales of Legendia, Tales of Phantasia
Genre: Fluff/Romance
Rating & Warnings: G
Words: 424
Disclaimer: I don't own the above media.
Summary: This is another awkward mess Grune has gotten Dhaos into.
Author's Notes: Inspired by this adorable drawing bynortheasternwind, because seriously, how could I not.
He should, by now, be accustomed to Grune pulling him into odd and uncomfortable situations. Their acquaintance has been long and Grune has insisted upon maintaining it closely. And yet each new circumstance finds him as unprepared as if it were the first.
Presently, Grune is asleep on his couch. Were this any other day, he would have suggested, upon noting signs of tiredness in her, that she return home to sleep in the comfort of her own bed.
It is not, however, any other day. Luceti is in the grip of an invasion of the undead, and he does not trust her to leave them alone. She is far more likely to attempt to befriend them than defend herself: this he knows from experience.
And so, despite the strangeness, it is simpler for her to remain where she is.
Once he reaches that conclusion, indecision soon follows. It would be a horrible breach of her privacy to remain and watch over her, and yet he finds himself reluctant to leave. He tells himself he needs to be certain she will not be assaulted by the undead as she sleeps, but the chances of those unholy beings climbing so high in this building unhindered are slight, and he will certainly sense their approach long before they are in a position to do her harm.
Perhaps his concerns are that of a host. Grune would not complain if she found herself wanting, but it would go against all that he believes to offer poor hospitality to a guest.
He considers her for a moment before drifting silently to the dining area. There he retrieves a clean glass and fills it with water from the bathroom, which he places on a side table upon his return. As he bends to do so, he averts his eyes from those places her dress does not cover.
. . . Surely she must be cold. He should provide her with a blanket as well.
But which one? He has only two sets of bedclothes. One is to be laundered—the arrival of the undead had interrupted his plans for the day. The other set is on his bed and is not an option.
He shifts position. His cloak swings gently around him.
He sighs.
When he takes up his post by the front entrance to his apartment, his shoulders are bare of protection. He does not need it. Behind him, Grune continues to sleep, warmer, and with a smile on her lips he will not easily dismiss from his mind.
Fandom:
luceti, Tales of Legendia, Tales of PhantasiaGenre: Fluff/Romance
Rating & Warnings: G
Words: 424
Disclaimer: I don't own the above media.
Summary: This is another awkward mess Grune has gotten Dhaos into.
Author's Notes: Inspired by this adorable drawing by
northeasternwind, because seriously, how could I not.He should, by now, be accustomed to Grune pulling him into odd and uncomfortable situations. Their acquaintance has been long and Grune has insisted upon maintaining it closely. And yet each new circumstance finds him as unprepared as if it were the first.
Presently, Grune is asleep on his couch. Were this any other day, he would have suggested, upon noting signs of tiredness in her, that she return home to sleep in the comfort of her own bed.
It is not, however, any other day. Luceti is in the grip of an invasion of the undead, and he does not trust her to leave them alone. She is far more likely to attempt to befriend them than defend herself: this he knows from experience.
And so, despite the strangeness, it is simpler for her to remain where she is.
Once he reaches that conclusion, indecision soon follows. It would be a horrible breach of her privacy to remain and watch over her, and yet he finds himself reluctant to leave. He tells himself he needs to be certain she will not be assaulted by the undead as she sleeps, but the chances of those unholy beings climbing so high in this building unhindered are slight, and he will certainly sense their approach long before they are in a position to do her harm.
Perhaps his concerns are that of a host. Grune would not complain if she found herself wanting, but it would go against all that he believes to offer poor hospitality to a guest.
He considers her for a moment before drifting silently to the dining area. There he retrieves a clean glass and fills it with water from the bathroom, which he places on a side table upon his return. As he bends to do so, he averts his eyes from those places her dress does not cover.
. . . Surely she must be cold. He should provide her with a blanket as well.
But which one? He has only two sets of bedclothes. One is to be laundered—the arrival of the undead had interrupted his plans for the day. The other set is on his bed and is not an option.
He shifts position. His cloak swings gently around him.
He sighs.
When he takes up his post by the front entrance to his apartment, his shoulders are bare of protection. He does not need it. Behind him, Grune continues to sleep, warmer, and with a smile on her lips he will not easily dismiss from his mind.
