“How are you?” Siri asks. Lucinda came back from her negotiations pissed as hell. Barricaded herself in the kitchen, behind a table. Threw something made of glass at the wall so it shattered. Now she’s out by the fire, chewing a wad of tobacco. She’s glaring at some point off in the distance.
“Pissed,” Lucinda replies. Her raven flaps down off the roof, settles on Lucinda’s thigh. Lucinda digs out the string of cracked walnut shells and clattery beads, tosses it for her raven. The bird follows it, begins picking at it the same as always.
Siri grunts. She doesn't have anything else to say.
Lucinda grunts back, tucks her feet up against her butt, folds her arms over her stomach. She looks small like this. Fragile, small, underfed. Not enough for her job. Siri looks away.
“We’ll only be resupplied out of what they have extra. ‘You weren’t expected’ he told me. Not expected my ass. We’ll do alright, with all us tribals, but it won’t be fun.”
“It’s already not fun,” Siri replies.
Lucinda snorts, but it’s something like a laugh.
“Done worse,” Lucinda replies. “This is easy living. A mattress? Two meals a day? Ammunition for my gun? Ten women who listen to my every command?” she pauses, glances over at Siri. “A pretty girl who’ll hold my hand,” she mutters quickly, quietly, so Siri almost doesn't hear it. “That’s easy living. Grew up with less, been traveling with less. Legion men are still awful-” and Siri’s on high alert, now; they’re close to the edge of camp, right along the patrol route for the night guards, and God knows where they are right now, could be close- “but everything else makes up for it.” She pauses, must catch Siri’s nerves, because she adds, “They're on the other end of camp. Only come this way twice a night. Leaves us open to attack, if someone decides to. Gets rid of us first. Reason we set our own guard.”
And that eases the twinge in her gut, at least momentarily. Their threats are external, at least.
“Were you flirting with me?” Siri asks, tries to make herself think about anything else.
“Coulda been,” Lucinda agrees, nods. Spits into the dirt on the other side of her chair, and Siri can see her grin as she turns.
“Well, if that’s how you’re going to play it, boss.”
“I’m not flirting if you call me ‘boss.’ There’s a reason only you get to call me Lucy anymore.”
Siri tries to remember where everyone is, right now, who might be asleep, who might hear them flirting. Watch is off for the night, last seen sleeping wedged against Tooth. Drummer asleep across the doorway to the bedroom, Burn and Runner asleep next to her. Birdy and Photo together, Birdy half-sitting, Photo with her head on Birdy’s thigh. Dredge and Twist in the middle of the room, sprawling into each other. Breathing deep, sleeping hard.
“You should come sit over here,” Siri decides to say. Scooches over in her chair, raises her arm to offer a place to sit at her side. Lucinda huffs.
“Chewing, right now,” she replies.
“It’s bad for you, but I’ve accepted that you’re not going to stop. I’ll still let you sit with me.”
“More worried I’m gonna accidentally spit on your book,” Lucinda replies, but stands up shakes herself out. Smooths her coat down before she sheds it and folds it over the back of her deck chair. She steps around her bird--currently trying to work out the loose knots in the cord--and settles onto the edge of Siri’s deck chair. “You think it’ll hold both of us?”
“I imagine pre-war individuals weighed more than the two of us put together. We’re not particularly well fed.”
“Well, no,” Lucinda agrees, swings her legs up and around. Scoots back under Siri’s arm. The chair creaks some, but not badly. “But there are still two of us, as compared to the hypothetical one of them.” She bounces a little, makes it creak more by shifting her weight.
Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (45a/?)
Now she’s out by the fire, chewing a wad of tobacco. She’s glaring at some point off in the distance.
“Pissed,” Lucinda replies. Her raven flaps down off the roof, settles on Lucinda’s thigh. Lucinda digs out the string of cracked walnut shells and clattery beads, tosses it for her raven. The bird follows it, begins picking at it the same as always.
Siri grunts. She doesn't have anything else to say.
Lucinda grunts back, tucks her feet up against her butt, folds her arms over her stomach. She looks small like this. Fragile, small, underfed. Not enough for her job. Siri looks away.
“We’ll only be resupplied out of what they have extra. ‘You weren’t expected’ he told me. Not expected my ass. We’ll do alright, with all us tribals, but it won’t be fun.”
“It’s already not fun,” Siri replies.
Lucinda snorts, but it’s something like a laugh.
“Done worse,” Lucinda replies. “This is easy living. A mattress? Two meals a day? Ammunition for my gun? Ten women who listen to my every command?” she pauses, glances over at Siri. “A pretty girl who’ll hold my hand,” she mutters quickly, quietly, so Siri almost doesn't hear it. “That’s easy living. Grew up with less, been traveling with less. Legion men are still awful-” and Siri’s on high alert, now; they’re close to the edge of camp, right along the patrol route for the night guards, and God knows where they are right now, could be close- “but everything else makes up for it.” She pauses, must catch Siri’s nerves, because she adds, “They're on the other end of camp. Only come this way twice a night. Leaves us open to attack, if someone decides to. Gets rid of us first. Reason we set our own guard.”
And that eases the twinge in her gut, at least momentarily. Their threats are external, at least.
“Were you flirting with me?” Siri asks, tries to make herself think about anything else.
“Coulda been,” Lucinda agrees, nods. Spits into the dirt on the other side of her chair, and Siri can see her grin as she turns.
“Well, if that’s how you’re going to play it, boss.”
“I’m not flirting if you call me ‘boss.’ There’s a reason only you get to call me Lucy anymore.”
Siri tries to remember where everyone is, right now, who might be asleep, who might hear them flirting. Watch is off for the night, last seen sleeping wedged against Tooth. Drummer asleep across the doorway to the bedroom, Burn and Runner asleep next to her. Birdy and Photo together, Birdy half-sitting, Photo with her head on Birdy’s thigh. Dredge and Twist in the middle of the room, sprawling into each other. Breathing deep, sleeping hard.
“You should come sit over here,” Siri decides to say. Scooches over in her chair, raises her arm to offer a place to sit at her side. Lucinda huffs.
“Chewing, right now,” she replies.
“It’s bad for you, but I’ve accepted that you’re not going to stop. I’ll still let you sit with me.”
“More worried I’m gonna accidentally spit on your book,” Lucinda replies, but stands up shakes herself out. Smooths her coat down before she sheds it and folds it over the back of her deck chair. She steps around her bird--currently trying to work out the loose knots in the cord--and settles onto the edge of Siri’s deck chair. “You think it’ll hold both of us?”
“I imagine pre-war individuals weighed more than the two of us put together. We’re not particularly well fed.”
“Well, no,” Lucinda agrees, swings her legs up and around. Scoots back under Siri’s arm. The chair creaks some, but not badly. “But there are still two of us, as compared to the hypothetical one of them.” She bounces a little, makes it creak more by shifting her weight.