Alternate Realities

Prompt: Marecal, Lap sitting

Between fights, between victories and defeats was a whole lot of waiting. And while they trained a lot, there were still plenty of unscheduled hours. Soldiers might use that time to read up on exams for their next positions, or write letters home, or clean equipment, or even play sports or card games. But the Guard wasn't exactly an army of soldiers. Almost every red and new blood and even the silvers were there because it struck them as more advantageous than to sit in their homes and wait for the fight to find them. A couple thousand bored non-soldiers tended to find trouble way beyond their worth.

Boredom and orders pulled the herds of discontented men and women together into the hangars to watch all sorts of loosely organized entertainment. Boxing drew the biggest crowds but also the rowdiest responses so they didn't do that more than once every two weeks. New bloods with more amazing abilities were forced into shows reminiscent of magicians but without the magic of the unexplained. Quiz shows and game shows were moderately more popular if the prizes were better than extra rations at the mess hall. Lately, they'd rested on holding amateur night day after day.

Mare made it her business to be as far away from the singers and the musicians as possible. Generally, she could find work at her mother's house that needed doing. Laundry didn't wash itself and compared to the Joster twin's ventriloquism much preferable.

Cal, on the other hand, loved amateur nights. He laughed, he cheered, he rooted for the young ones and cried at the ballads. Maybe that's the true reason why Mare attempts to stay away, but it's also the only reason she occasionally goes. He is no more himself than when he's supporting the acts. She loves his joy more than her ears love silence.

Cal laughed fill belly laughs and glanced at her to check that she was watching. Sometimes, he was so simple and that could make her smile on even the worst days. When Rosemary Roti climbed the stage for the second time that week and the familiar backing of the piano began, Cal's smile slipped into the slightly parted anticipatory pout that foretold the coming tears. He reached for her. He pawed her arms until she relented. And then he pulled her into his lap and held her.

"What is it about this song?"

"My father sang it because it was my mother's favorite." And then his lips closed on the cloth of her shirt and his breathing became paced against her skin.