[FIC] Two Sol/Ky snippets
Jul. 30th, 2008 10:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rallamajoopFinally I'm back to posting Guilty Gear fic again! Can only hope a few people around here are still interested in reading it after all this time ^^;. For now, just a couple of little just-too-long-for-drabble-length snippets I've had sitting around a while staring the usual suspects. The first is just a little war-era scene - and though I'm not sure I'd usually set Ky as being so collected during that era, I liked the idea too much to pass up. The second, completely unconnected, is about as close to morning-after fluff as I think I will ever be able to picture working for those two. *g*
Devil's Advocate
It was when Ky had gotten his second promotion inside a year that Sol started seriously questioning just what kind of army he’d joined here. How Ky had gotten it was straight-forward, the rules on promotion weren’t exactly hard to grasp, but all that policy about emphasising skill and talent over age or experience sounded a whole lot better before it put a sixteen-year-old boy a hop, step and a jump from running the whole show. Officers with decades more experience than that kid were now third-in-line candidates for future commander-ship – and normally Sol might’ve enjoyed that just because it pissed off a lot of people he liked seeing pissed off, but when the result was that the army was one crucial retirement from being run by a kid who still blushed slightly when Sol used any swearword stronger than ‘damn’ he was starting to wondering whether old Kliff had missed his date for retirement altogether and gone senile while still on the job.
“The old man likes you too damn much,” he grumbled out loud, but for once in his life not even the kid rose to the bait of the implied insult.
“Sol, I’d hope even you have enough respect for our Commander to trust he wouldn’t hand out promotions based purely on who he does or doesn’t like,” said Ky, sounding faintly surprised and faintly bemused, but nothing worse.
“You think he’s gonna leave his army in the hands of someone he didn’t like?” asked Sol testily. It might’ve held more weight if their last visit to headquarters hadn’t involved the old man trapping Ky in his office for a whole evening to chew him out over every hair-brained decision he’d made during the fiasco that had been the Battle of Rome, but it was nothing the kid hadn’t deserved.
“I would say the opposite is more likely,” said Ky authoritatively. “Commander Kliff is far too wise not to know that a leader must occasionally make a point of promoting a few men who will disagree with him. After all,” he added, giving Sol a pointed look paired with one of his more frustrating smiles, “every leader can benefit from having at least one advisor who’s willing to tell us the things we may not want to hear now and then. Don’t you agree?”
The Morning After
The first morning after was very nearly ruined when some of Sol’s less informed combat reflexes kicked in and almost made him strangle whoever it was who’d snuck up on him in the middle of the night before he realised what he was doing.
“Are you always this friendly first thing in the morning?” Ky asked blearily, startled rudely out of sleep.
“Gimme a break,” Sol grumbled, slumping face down on to the pillow next to him. “Haven’t done this in a while.”
“‘This’?”
“The waking up next to someone thing,” said Sol, voice half-muffled.
“How long a while?” Ky wondered.
“None o’ your damn business,” Sol muttered back, which came out slightly more defensive than he probably intended, and made Ky smile at him in a way he definitely hadn’t intended at all.
Who knew with Sol – it could have been a very long time indeed.
Devil's Advocate
It was when Ky had gotten his second promotion inside a year that Sol started seriously questioning just what kind of army he’d joined here. How Ky had gotten it was straight-forward, the rules on promotion weren’t exactly hard to grasp, but all that policy about emphasising skill and talent over age or experience sounded a whole lot better before it put a sixteen-year-old boy a hop, step and a jump from running the whole show. Officers with decades more experience than that kid were now third-in-line candidates for future commander-ship – and normally Sol might’ve enjoyed that just because it pissed off a lot of people he liked seeing pissed off, but when the result was that the army was one crucial retirement from being run by a kid who still blushed slightly when Sol used any swearword stronger than ‘damn’ he was starting to wondering whether old Kliff had missed his date for retirement altogether and gone senile while still on the job.
“The old man likes you too damn much,” he grumbled out loud, but for once in his life not even the kid rose to the bait of the implied insult.
“Sol, I’d hope even you have enough respect for our Commander to trust he wouldn’t hand out promotions based purely on who he does or doesn’t like,” said Ky, sounding faintly surprised and faintly bemused, but nothing worse.
“You think he’s gonna leave his army in the hands of someone he didn’t like?” asked Sol testily. It might’ve held more weight if their last visit to headquarters hadn’t involved the old man trapping Ky in his office for a whole evening to chew him out over every hair-brained decision he’d made during the fiasco that had been the Battle of Rome, but it was nothing the kid hadn’t deserved.
“I would say the opposite is more likely,” said Ky authoritatively. “Commander Kliff is far too wise not to know that a leader must occasionally make a point of promoting a few men who will disagree with him. After all,” he added, giving Sol a pointed look paired with one of his more frustrating smiles, “every leader can benefit from having at least one advisor who’s willing to tell us the things we may not want to hear now and then. Don’t you agree?”
The Morning After
The first morning after was very nearly ruined when some of Sol’s less informed combat reflexes kicked in and almost made him strangle whoever it was who’d snuck up on him in the middle of the night before he realised what he was doing.
“Are you always this friendly first thing in the morning?” Ky asked blearily, startled rudely out of sleep.
“Gimme a break,” Sol grumbled, slumping face down on to the pillow next to him. “Haven’t done this in a while.”
“‘This’?”
“The waking up next to someone thing,” said Sol, voice half-muffled.
“How long a while?” Ky wondered.
“None o’ your damn business,” Sol muttered back, which came out slightly more defensive than he probably intended, and made Ky smile at him in a way he definitely hadn’t intended at all.
Who knew with Sol – it could have been a very long time indeed.