raisedbymoogles (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
raisedbymoogles) wrote2015-12-02 10:35 pm
raisedbymoogles) wrote2015-12-02 10:35 pm
Entry tags:
Gladiator'verse isn't going away, guys.
Halp, halp, I ficblurted again.
*
“My name… my name is… Orion Pax!”
“Orion… Pax, you say? …oh, no. No, no, that won’t do at all.”
“…but… that’s my name.”
“Hush, newspark. If you don’t come with a proper ring name, we’ll have to give you one. Something fearsome - let me see…”
“I don’t… I don’t understand…”
“Red something… yes… that’s it! Red Storm.”
***
“Red Storm?”
The title was breathed out rather than spoken, as though the speaker feared she would dispel him by speaking aloud. Orion winced to himself - this free day he’d negotiated so hard for was not turning out how he’d hoped, and now he’d been discovered someplace he wasn’t supposed to be, of all things!
Well, there was nothing for it but to face the music. He turned, and found himself gazing upon a small labor-model with her hands pressed to her mouth. “Oh my-” she squeaked, muffled. “It is you. It really is!”
Orion bowed, apologetic and awkward and wishing gladitorial training included more than the most basic of manners. “I apologize for disturbing you.”
“Oh - no, nonono!” She flapped a hand at him. “It’s just-” She squeaked again, seeming almost - embarrassed? “It’s just, I - I’m such a huge fan… Did Dion put you up to this? How in the world did he afford your fee? Oh my Primus…”
The poor femme looked ready to faint. “I - I was just passing through,” Orion said, and that didn’t seem to make his biggest fan’s imminent loss of consciousness any less likely. “May I ask your name?”
“I - Ariel. My name is Ariel.”
“Sieur Ariel.” Orion bowed again, lower this time. “I thank you, from the bottom of my spark, for your patronage.”
It was something the arena announcers said to the spectators before and after every match; Orion wasn’t sure it was appropriate in this context. Yet Ariel’s hands stopped shaking and her optics shone bright as he allowed himself to look at her again, and this time Orion was sure his manners hadn’t failed him.
*
“My name… my name is… Orion Pax!”
“Orion… Pax, you say? …oh, no. No, no, that won’t do at all.”
“…but… that’s my name.”
“Hush, newspark. If you don’t come with a proper ring name, we’ll have to give you one. Something fearsome - let me see…”
“I don’t… I don’t understand…”
“Red something… yes… that’s it! Red Storm.”
***
“Red Storm?”
The title was breathed out rather than spoken, as though the speaker feared she would dispel him by speaking aloud. Orion winced to himself - this free day he’d negotiated so hard for was not turning out how he’d hoped, and now he’d been discovered someplace he wasn’t supposed to be, of all things!
Well, there was nothing for it but to face the music. He turned, and found himself gazing upon a small labor-model with her hands pressed to her mouth. “Oh my-” she squeaked, muffled. “It is you. It really is!”
Orion bowed, apologetic and awkward and wishing gladitorial training included more than the most basic of manners. “I apologize for disturbing you.”
“Oh - no, nonono!” She flapped a hand at him. “It’s just-” She squeaked again, seeming almost - embarrassed? “It’s just, I - I’m such a huge fan… Did Dion put you up to this? How in the world did he afford your fee? Oh my Primus…”
The poor femme looked ready to faint. “I - I was just passing through,” Orion said, and that didn’t seem to make his biggest fan’s imminent loss of consciousness any less likely. “May I ask your name?”
“I - Ariel. My name is Ariel.”
“Sieur Ariel.” Orion bowed again, lower this time. “I thank you, from the bottom of my spark, for your patronage.”
It was something the arena announcers said to the spectators before and after every match; Orion wasn’t sure it was appropriate in this context. Yet Ariel’s hands stopped shaking and her optics shone bright as he allowed himself to look at her again, and this time Orion was sure his manners hadn’t failed him.