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slashthedrabble2004-12-18 01:58 am
eloise-bright.livejournal.com) wrote in slashthedrabble2004-12-18 01:58 am
Entry tags:
Wes/Giles - S3
Another drabble, once again inspired by two challenges - the 'mistakes' one here, using the prompts over at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
watcherlove - pride, essence and tomorrow. It's 400 words.
Making mistakes
It was late; the routine patrol had been completed two hours ago, and Giles had given them the rest of the night off. Wesley had finally swallowed his pride, realising that Hades and the Antarctic would share a climate before Buffy accepted him as her Watcher.
They were still working, though. They only had tomorrow left before the ascension, so time was of the essence. Giles was hunched over a book of incantations, his glasses slipping down from the bridge of his nose as he peered at the faded parchment.
“Have you checked the original Luwian?” Giles enquired, barely glancing up from his own text.
Wesley ran his finger down the margin of his translation. “I’m not sure, Mr Giles. Perhaps you could take a look…?” He made his request quietly courteous.
The older man sighed softly and stood straight, then came over to Wesley’s side of the table. He leaned over, resting his hand on the desk next to Wesley’s. “Let me see.”
Wesley indicated the passage, and Giles’ finger chased his own. “Ah, wait a moment.” The finger paused, and Giles pushed his glasses up with one hand. “Here’s the problem… you’ve forgotten about the genitive case markers. That changes the meaning of this whole sentence.”
“Oh, you’re right. I don’t know how I could have made such a foolish error.”
“Easy mistake to make; we’re all tired and rather stressed at the moment.” There was no recrimination in his voice.
“Still, that’s no excuse…” Wesley berated himself softly, and a hand came down on his shoulder, warm even through his cotton oxford shirt.
“Don’t be silly, Wesley, it’s a perfectly good excuse.” Giles patted his shoulder gently, and Wesley remained still under the affectionate gesture, drinking in its comfort. “Come on, I think we both deserve a rest. And a cup of tea.”
“Yes, perhaps you’re right.” Wesley nodded uncertainly.
Giles palm was removed and he walked across the library to his office, then turned at the door. “I have chocolate hobnobs, you know,” he said by way of invitation
Wesley smiled shyly and joined him in the inner office, eternally grateful that Mr Giles had never bothered to read up on his qualifications for his current post with the Council.
If he had, he would have surely been aware of Wesley’s MPhil in Anatolian nominal morphology, specializing in disappearing case markers in Early Luwian.
watcherlove - pride, essence and tomorrow. It's 400 words.Making mistakes
It was late; the routine patrol had been completed two hours ago, and Giles had given them the rest of the night off. Wesley had finally swallowed his pride, realising that Hades and the Antarctic would share a climate before Buffy accepted him as her Watcher.
They were still working, though. They only had tomorrow left before the ascension, so time was of the essence. Giles was hunched over a book of incantations, his glasses slipping down from the bridge of his nose as he peered at the faded parchment.
“Have you checked the original Luwian?” Giles enquired, barely glancing up from his own text.
Wesley ran his finger down the margin of his translation. “I’m not sure, Mr Giles. Perhaps you could take a look…?” He made his request quietly courteous.
The older man sighed softly and stood straight, then came over to Wesley’s side of the table. He leaned over, resting his hand on the desk next to Wesley’s. “Let me see.”
Wesley indicated the passage, and Giles’ finger chased his own. “Ah, wait a moment.” The finger paused, and Giles pushed his glasses up with one hand. “Here’s the problem… you’ve forgotten about the genitive case markers. That changes the meaning of this whole sentence.”
“Oh, you’re right. I don’t know how I could have made such a foolish error.”
“Easy mistake to make; we’re all tired and rather stressed at the moment.” There was no recrimination in his voice.
“Still, that’s no excuse…” Wesley berated himself softly, and a hand came down on his shoulder, warm even through his cotton oxford shirt.
“Don’t be silly, Wesley, it’s a perfectly good excuse.” Giles patted his shoulder gently, and Wesley remained still under the affectionate gesture, drinking in its comfort. “Come on, I think we both deserve a rest. And a cup of tea.”
“Yes, perhaps you’re right.” Wesley nodded uncertainly.
Giles palm was removed and he walked across the library to his office, then turned at the door. “I have chocolate hobnobs, you know,” he said by way of invitation
Wesley smiled shyly and joined him in the inner office, eternally grateful that Mr Giles had never bothered to read up on his qualifications for his current post with the Council.
If he had, he would have surely been aware of Wesley’s MPhil in Anatolian nominal morphology, specializing in disappearing case markers in Early Luwian.
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