Discord Dragonlance fic
Mar. 20th, 2018 06:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Dalamar’s Face wanted a Raistlin/Dalamar fic involving apples, so I wrote this ficlet. Ambiguous setting- either a nicer version of canon, or a happier version of my AU.
Dalamar looked over the basket carefully. They had come in yesterday, and the basket was already half empty. And maybe some part of his Silvanesti self, not quite suffocated, worried over it. Bracing himself to be blamed for anything that went wrong- dirty laundry, lost trinkets, even missing food.
He shook his head. Idiocy. Who would care? It was only he and Raistlin in the Tower, and it wasn’t the Dead Ones running away with the apples. Raistlin had been busy with something involving them- who knew? Nuitari willing he might even be eating them. Dalamar made a note to pick up more tomorrow, the apples wouldn’t last long at this rate.
They didn’t. Nor did the next lot. Dalamar stacked the straw baskets away and puzzled over them. Where were all these apples going? He picked one up and examined it. A warm burst of red-orange, firm and smelling sweet. Dug out a few more and they were all fine- a few a little green, but it didn’t look like the Dead Ones had been near them.
He considered saying something that evening. Raistlin looked a little frazzled, picking over his spellbooks distractedly. He was using his left hand tentatively, fingers brushing over the pages more cautiously than usual. Dalamar reached over and Raistlin flinched away. “What is it?”
Raistlin hesitated a moment, then gave him his hand. The gold skin was reddened along the side of his hand and smallest finger. “I was careless.”
“You haven’t treated it?”
His lip curled, “I was- distracted. The aloe is in the jar on the right.”
“What are you doing?” Dalamar shook his head. It was meant mostly rhetorically, Raistlin kept his secrets shut up tight as an oyster around a pearl and he hardly expected an answer.
To his surprise, he got one. “I am- trying something.” Raistlin sighed and made a small sound of pain as Dalamar smeared the thick juice over his hand. “I have not been successful yet, and would rather you not see the- failed attempts.”
“Proud as ever.” Dalamar stroked his hand.
“And have I ever seen a scroll from you with a stray inkspot, or a potion that was anything but perfect?”
Dalamar smiled, felt Raistlin’s hand turn under his, stroke his palm. “Then we suit each other very well,” and leant over for a kiss.
All the same, Dalamar did check on the laboratory the next day, and the pool of seeing in case Raistlin was trying anything there. But the pool was empty, and the laboratory dust had not been disturbed since- well, since.
Since a time they would both rather put behind them. Dalamar rubbed his knuckles over his chest, lost in remembered pain.
“Dalamar?” Raistlin’s voice cut through his reverie, and Dalamar turned, closing the laboratory doors behind him.
Raistlin was down by the stairs to the kitchen, Dalamar leant over. “Are you ready to show me what you’ve been making?” He brushed his fingers through the magic, drew himself down to stand beside Raistlin.
“I think so,” Raistlin smiled a little. He smelled- sweet, quite unlike his usual scent of roses and spell components. Like- apples.
Dalamar leaned over and buried his face in Raistlin’s neck, inhaling deeply. “I think I can guess.” He smiled, “Just in time for dinner.”
“I believe it worked.” He took Dalamar’s hand and they walked down into the kitchen.
The smell was even stronger there, mouthwatering. The oven was still hazy with heat, and the pie was steaming on the kitchen table.
“I never had an oven before.” Raistlin continued as Dalamar got the plates and two spoons. “Just a fireplace. I may have been adventurous.” He glanced at the pie, and looked away quickly. “It should taste good, regardless of what it looks like.”
Dalamar smiled, and cut through the rich golden crust. “I think I can do something about that.” He served up the portion, sliding the spoon in and lifting it up. “Close your eyes.”
Dalamar’s Face wanted a Raistlin/Dalamar fic involving apples, so I wrote this ficlet. Ambiguous setting- either a nicer version of canon, or a happier version of my AU.
Dalamar looked over the basket carefully. They had come in yesterday, and the basket was already half empty. And maybe some part of his Silvanesti self, not quite suffocated, worried over it. Bracing himself to be blamed for anything that went wrong- dirty laundry, lost trinkets, even missing food.
He shook his head. Idiocy. Who would care? It was only he and Raistlin in the Tower, and it wasn’t the Dead Ones running away with the apples. Raistlin had been busy with something involving them- who knew? Nuitari willing he might even be eating them. Dalamar made a note to pick up more tomorrow, the apples wouldn’t last long at this rate.
They didn’t. Nor did the next lot. Dalamar stacked the straw baskets away and puzzled over them. Where were all these apples going? He picked one up and examined it. A warm burst of red-orange, firm and smelling sweet. Dug out a few more and they were all fine- a few a little green, but it didn’t look like the Dead Ones had been near them.
He considered saying something that evening. Raistlin looked a little frazzled, picking over his spellbooks distractedly. He was using his left hand tentatively, fingers brushing over the pages more cautiously than usual. Dalamar reached over and Raistlin flinched away. “What is it?”
Raistlin hesitated a moment, then gave him his hand. The gold skin was reddened along the side of his hand and smallest finger. “I was careless.”
“You haven’t treated it?”
His lip curled, “I was- distracted. The aloe is in the jar on the right.”
“What are you doing?” Dalamar shook his head. It was meant mostly rhetorically, Raistlin kept his secrets shut up tight as an oyster around a pearl and he hardly expected an answer.
To his surprise, he got one. “I am- trying something.” Raistlin sighed and made a small sound of pain as Dalamar smeared the thick juice over his hand. “I have not been successful yet, and would rather you not see the- failed attempts.”
“Proud as ever.” Dalamar stroked his hand.
“And have I ever seen a scroll from you with a stray inkspot, or a potion that was anything but perfect?”
Dalamar smiled, felt Raistlin’s hand turn under his, stroke his palm. “Then we suit each other very well,” and leant over for a kiss.
All the same, Dalamar did check on the laboratory the next day, and the pool of seeing in case Raistlin was trying anything there. But the pool was empty, and the laboratory dust had not been disturbed since- well, since.
Since a time they would both rather put behind them. Dalamar rubbed his knuckles over his chest, lost in remembered pain.
“Dalamar?” Raistlin’s voice cut through his reverie, and Dalamar turned, closing the laboratory doors behind him.
Raistlin was down by the stairs to the kitchen, Dalamar leant over. “Are you ready to show me what you’ve been making?” He brushed his fingers through the magic, drew himself down to stand beside Raistlin.
“I think so,” Raistlin smiled a little. He smelled- sweet, quite unlike his usual scent of roses and spell components. Like- apples.
Dalamar leaned over and buried his face in Raistlin’s neck, inhaling deeply. “I think I can guess.” He smiled, “Just in time for dinner.”
“I believe it worked.” He took Dalamar’s hand and they walked down into the kitchen.
The smell was even stronger there, mouthwatering. The oven was still hazy with heat, and the pie was steaming on the kitchen table.
“I never had an oven before.” Raistlin continued as Dalamar got the plates and two spoons. “Just a fireplace. I may have been adventurous.” He glanced at the pie, and looked away quickly. “It should taste good, regardless of what it looks like.”
Dalamar smiled, and cut through the rich golden crust. “I think I can do something about that.” He served up the portion, sliding the spoon in and lifting it up. “Close your eyes.”