Chatterbox: Death

Monday, November 25, 2013

via pinterest
I'm supposed to be dead to the blogging world this month, but for NaNo updates, but when word somehow manages to pass my ear (sisters, who'd be without 'em?) that Rachel was back with Chatterbox this month I decided to jump along. These are a few characters from Gumusservi, bantering about Death because they can. Enjoy.
Kaitlyn groaned heavily, drawing herself up from the salted deck on bent elbows, and massaging a bruised head. Rune pulled her closer to him and set her head against his chest.
"You alright?" Heavy rains made it hard to hear him, but his lips inclined towards her ear and she picked up his words.
"I'll be better in a moment." She blinked the droplets from her lashes and splayed the rest of the water from her cheeks with the back of a china-white hand.
"We'd better get inside." The rain was coming down heavier now, and their clothes were very nearly soaking in the pooling water.
The two drug themselves slowly across the breadth of the deck until they reached the cabin door and could safely sneak into its welcome warmth.
"Devilish storm," Rune said, his grey eyes challenging the raging storm outside. Kaitlyn shivered in the corner and found a musty old blanket from one of the cupboards to wrap herself in. "Makes one loose his sense of manliness, if you'll allow me."
She listened calmly, setting the blanket to rights. An inky sky watched them in the dusty half-light, clunking about the ropes and anchors and nets, trying to get comfortable.
"Like death," Rune continued, and Kaitlyn looked at him queerly.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Death takes the wits out of a man. Puts him on edge. A man will do anything to avoid death. Just like this weather; it makes him feel powerless."
"I don't know." She bit her lip. "Men should be willing to die for king and country."
"They say that, you know, but not all men are. Some men are cowards, and at the harrowing bottom of things it's just a matter of will. Sometimes that will's not strong enough. Sometimes men fail."
This had a negative effect on her peace; it had seemed that men should all be brave things, but where did the coward fall on the scale? Was he less a man because he cowered, or was he a coward because he was less than a man?
"Death could undo anyone I guess." Rune flicked the water from his hair with a burly hand.
"What about you - would you stand in the face of death?" It was now very important for her to know, though it didn't seem relative to their present position.
"I don't know. I suppose that's what makes matters so very awkward: I fancy I would, but the courage of man is no trustworthy thing. It falters now and then. I only hope I'd live to see myself more than a coward."
"I think you would," Kaitlyn whispered, and Rune's grey-lit face brightened.
"You have my best interests, madam."

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