He jolted awake, halfway to sitting before he realized that there was something stuck up his--Vanyel flushed deep red and shielded his mind like his life depended on it. He reached behind himself, extracted the offending item, and discovered his second problem.
"What in Valdemar's name--" his stomach was blue. Vanyel peeled off the lovely blue and white quilt, revealing that the blue smears extended down to his thighs--he could see the damned paisley.
The blanket was as stained as he was, white squares turned purple by the--liquids--
"Oh shit," he whispered, Yfandes knocking on his mental shield growing impatient, the room well lit with dawn's early light, and they were meant to leave right now.
Vanyel rolled to his feet, and realized that he had no choice. He'd ruined it. He must--it was a matter of honour, he must do the honourable thing.
***
The Inn Master's face filled with polite puzzlement, and Vanyel stared at the wall behind the man's ear, blanket tied to Yfandes' saddle behind him. "The quilt, Honoured Herald Mage?"
"Yes." Vanyel cursed himself for failing to follow his first instinct and disappear with it, silently stealing the evidence of his debauchery.
"My daughter pieced it. She is only ten, sir but very talented."
"It is a very nice blanket."
"That you must requisition for the Queen."
Yfandes' curiosity was so strong that Vanyel's skin crawled with it, but he refused to let her know. He couldn't bear--no. She absolutely couldn't know. "Yes."
"I will get my daughter, that she might know that her work has aided Valdemar!" he said, his round face beaming at Vanyel. "For some mighty spell, no doubt! Oh, she will be so happy!"
"I must leave. Right now. But left her know that her work is very appreciated, and--uh--that the kingdom of Valdemar couldn't have done it without her," Vanyel said, raising his hand to stop the Inn Master from saying anything else.
:Yfandes, come on--:
:Not until you tell me why.: she told him, ear flicking back lazily, not even twitching toward the gate.
:I--I wrecked it. I have to take it.: Vanyel felt like he was dying, crushed by the weight of his own impending humiliation. The Inn Master was staring at him, waiting expectantly, and Vanyel's attempts to retreat into the ice were not successful. :Please Yfandes--:
She snorted, scraping her hoof on the flagstones, the sound ringing like a bell, and refused to move.
:I'll do anything you want if you leave right now. Anything.: Vanyel promised recklessly, his mask starting to slip.
***
The bard's playing skipped a note, but Vanyel didn't notice, staring deep into the cup of wine that had been refilled possibly more often than it had ought to have been that night.
Vanyel looked up, smiling with the amusement that twenty odd years separation had given him. He clearly his throat, smiling wryly. "And that's the blanket story in a nutshell."
Stef was staring, and Vanyel remembered, belatedly and somewhat drunkenly, that Stef had probably never considered that someone as old as Vanyel might have once--damn it, Vanyel'd gone and been inappropriate again.
"Do you still have the blanket?"
His gaze went to Vanyel's bed, and Vanyel felt himself blushing. "I--" Stef's eyes were sparkling, full of youthful innocence, and Vanyel wondered when he was going to learn to keep his stupid mouth shut. "Well I couldn't just get rid of it."
Re: Fill- Vanyel/Blanket 4/4
He jolted awake, halfway to sitting before he realized that there was something stuck up his--Vanyel flushed deep red and shielded his mind like his life depended on it. He reached behind himself, extracted the offending item, and discovered his second problem.
"What in Valdemar's name--" his stomach was blue. Vanyel peeled off the lovely blue and white quilt, revealing that the blue smears extended down to his thighs--he could see the damned paisley.
The blanket was as stained as he was, white squares turned purple by the--liquids--
"Oh shit," he whispered, Yfandes knocking on his mental shield growing impatient, the room well lit with dawn's early light, and they were meant to leave right now.
Vanyel rolled to his feet, and realized that he had no choice. He'd ruined it. He must--it was a matter of honour, he must do the honourable thing.
***
The Inn Master's face filled with polite puzzlement, and Vanyel stared at the wall behind the man's ear, blanket tied to Yfandes' saddle behind him. "The quilt, Honoured Herald Mage?"
"Yes." Vanyel cursed himself for failing to follow his first instinct and disappear with it, silently stealing the evidence of his debauchery.
"My daughter pieced it. She is only ten, sir but very talented."
"It is a very nice blanket."
"That you must requisition for the Queen."
Yfandes' curiosity was so strong that Vanyel's skin crawled with it, but he refused to let her know. He couldn't bear--no. She absolutely couldn't know. "Yes."
"I will get my daughter, that she might know that her work has aided Valdemar!" he said, his round face beaming at Vanyel. "For some mighty spell, no doubt! Oh, she will be so happy!"
"I must leave. Right now. But left her know that her work is very appreciated, and--uh--that the kingdom of Valdemar couldn't have done it without her," Vanyel said, raising his hand to stop the Inn Master from saying anything else.
:Yfandes, come on--:
:Not until you tell me why.: she told him, ear flicking back lazily, not even twitching toward the gate.
:I--I wrecked it. I have to take it.: Vanyel felt like he was dying, crushed by the weight of his own impending humiliation. The Inn Master was staring at him, waiting expectantly, and Vanyel's attempts to retreat into the ice were not successful. :Please Yfandes--:
She snorted, scraping her hoof on the flagstones, the sound ringing like a bell, and refused to move.
:I'll do anything you want if you leave right now. Anything.: Vanyel promised recklessly, his mask starting to slip.
***
The bard's playing skipped a note, but Vanyel didn't notice, staring deep into the cup of wine that had been refilled possibly more often than it had ought to have been that night.
Vanyel looked up, smiling with the amusement that twenty odd years separation had given him. He clearly his throat, smiling wryly. "And that's the blanket story in a nutshell."
Stef was staring, and Vanyel remembered, belatedly and somewhat drunkenly, that Stef had probably never considered that someone as old as Vanyel might have once--damn it, Vanyel'd gone and been inappropriate again.
"Do you still have the blanket?"
His gaze went to Vanyel's bed, and Vanyel felt himself blushing. "I--" Stef's eyes were sparkling, full of youthful innocence, and Vanyel wondered when he was going to learn to keep his stupid mouth shut. "Well I couldn't just get rid of it."