merikuru: (Only you can hear me cry)
[personal profile] merikuru posting in [community profile] 12months_challenge
Here is our Julbygone master list!

Egyptian history

Dynasty 3 - Continuity (by [personal profile] taichara)

August's challenge is:


Time to take some genders and flip them on their figurative heads. Men become women, women become men, and even anything in between if that so tickles your fancy. Genderbends for all!

This theme challenge will end on August 31st, 11:59 PM Central Standard Time.
taichara: (sing)
From: [personal profile] taichara
Let's see, now ... this should be everything ...

Everything in its place, and a place for everything: from the gently baking sand gardens to the soaring blue-gold ceilings in Scorpio's pillared Great Hall; from the bulbous copper columns to the marble and garnet reliefs that decorated the walls and the blood-red treads on the sweeping bronze staircases.

Fresh from a training excusion (or "lessons in creative torment of hapless underlings", to some) deep in Sanctuary's splintery mountains, Milo had stalked from one end of her Temple to the other, inspecting every last detail of the massive sacred palace. And disovered, much to her surprise, that it was -- for once -- immaculately kept during her absence.

Someone must have had a few words for Asterion while I was gone. Or he needs me to adjudicate on a situation now that I'm back, whichever. It's not important right this second.

What was important was dismissing Scorpio's blood-gold plates. The Cloth dissolved in a heartbeat and Milo -- in loose tunic and trousers, dun-coloured, feet bare -- stretched til her spine cracked; not that she ever felt the weight, not since she'd proved herself Saint of Scorpions, but it was the principle of the thing. Removing the Cloth meant she was off duty, and could finally relax.

I think I'll rearrange one of the gardens. There's at least six colours of sand ready to go that have been sitting there in their troughs for at least two months doing nothing.

Lady above, when did time start running so short? I'll have to choose official lieutenants at this rate ...


Sunshine above, glittering columns like copper and blood all around, little skittering things out and about while sand crunched between her toes and drifted -- fine as dust, in places, gilding the garnet of her hair -- across the broad bowl of the dusk-side garden in carefully controlled plumes ...

It was perfect. Milo tweaked the wind hoods one final time, eyed the patterns slowly taking shape, and grinned to herself. And then, and only then, did she notice the shadow amongst the columns on the far side of the bowl. Her bark of laughter echoed off the columns.

"How long were you lurking there, Camus? Afraid of shriveling up if you actually get some sun? Come over here, you --"

The Aquarius Saint obliged with a shrug that made his hair-weights swing, but she didn't miss the twitch of the darkly sea-green brows once he stepped down into the garden proper. Laughing again at his expression, she strode along the twisting path of black cobbles (there just to humour him to begin with) and met him halfway, hands on her hips as she assessed him as critically as she had her Temple.

Camus was also off-duty -- no Cloth -- but there was a pinch in the pale face and that marine-tinted mouth was set. And those were just the first hints. She echoed him with a lifted brow of her own.

"That look's not for being hauled out here into the warm and dry. Do I ask, or does it have to do with that student of yours?"

Camus looked away, mouth tightening further, which was more of a response than she'd expected. Student it was, then. Waiting for him to weigh his actual response would take all day, and she wasn't willing to waste the time humouring his secretiveness. Not when she could almost taste the call to the Agora waiting for her. With a snort, she seized him by one wrist.

"Never mind, I don't need the details. It's not important.

"What is important is that we both have a breath of time together for once, and I suggest we make the most of it while we can -- and not in that pit of cold wet dimness you call your Temple, thank you very much. Not this time. You'll have warmth and sunshine and you'll like it."

Now a ghostly smile flickered across Camus' face. He shifted posture again, finally meeting her eyes.

"But not your pets. I draw the line at those. Sun, sand, desert winds -- but no more scuttling little friends inviting themselves where they are not wanted."

There was a distinctly amused note in Camus' rasp. Well, that was all to the better as far as Milo was concerned; she supposed it meant he'd forgiven certain small but ferociously burning stings in some rather unorthodox places --

"Just watch where you put your feet and your clothes, mm ~?
"Now let's go get comfortable before some other score of crises come knocking our doors down."
Edited Date: 2016-08-28 07:17 am (UTC)


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12 Months of Writing: A Themed Writing Challenge

September 2017


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