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03.12.2013 , 05:09 PM |
Your Song - His Music
Rochester and Broan
Lieutenant Windthorpe turned into the canteen, tea in one hand and a dataslide in the other. Engrossed by the reports detailing the new crew, he tuned out the noises of the dining room. He approached the officer's table and paused. Lord Naught sat surrounded by dirty dishes and empty mugs, absorbed by his own dataslide. Standard etiquette would say that the Lieutenant find another table, but he was also required to not sit with non-officers. He hovered at the end of the table, trying to remember which protocol applied. A quick glance revealed a lack of empty tables.
One of the new crewmembers nodded to him in greeting. They all sat around a single table, chatting quietly but animatedly. An over-stressed, wordless synthsong added extra background noise. Lieutenant Windthorpe walked over and picked up the holo-device. He paused the playback and turned the metal disc in his hands.
"This is not standard issue. Who does this device belong to?" All talk on the table ceased. Some of the more confident crewmembers looked him in the face; others simply stared at their food. "Well, as no one wishes to claim this device now, the owner can do so later. That is, assuming Captain Gorse does not throw it into the vacuum of space." A shocked silence followed Lieutenant Windthorpe as he left the canteen.
A moment later, Lord Naught put down his book and left the room.
Rochester opened the door to his captain's office. Now alone, he sat on the edge of the desk and sighed heavily. His tea had started to cool rapidly and provided little comfort. He squeezed his upper arms and hugged his chest, concentrating on keeping his breathing even. A beep from the door startled him.
Broan found Rochester clutching the edge of desk, coughing and red in the face. He locked the door and let the mask of 'Lord Naught' fall away.
"What happened back there?" Broan rubbed Rochester's back, soothing his coughing fit. Rochester leant back into his embrace but said nothing. "I know you're usually formal with the crew, especially new members, but you just seemed... stressed."
Rochester took a few deep breaths, calming himself in the crook of Broan's neck.
"The music reminded me of someone, that's all," He stroked Rochester's hair and waited. If Rochester wanted to elaborate, to talk, he would in time. After many minutes of silence, Broan assumed he had fallen asleep and gently shook him. "Tala... Tala used to listen to that music."
Broan hugged Rochester closer to him and kissed him on the cheek. Some tears had fallen, which Rochester hastily wiped away.
"I'll let everyone know I hate that synth music. No one will dare play it anywhere on the ship." Broan gave him a reassuring squeeze and another kiss.
"Thank you," Rochester wrapped his arms tight around Broan, feeling the leather of his outer robes creek under his grip. "I just can't deal with that at the moment. I don't want to be reminded of that time."
They shared one last, long kiss and parted ways. They both had duties about the ship and, though they had been together some time, their relationship was still unknown.
Broan is a Sorcerer but he wears leather and armour...? I don't know, it works.
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