from Howrack to Bernatha.
With a long, rattling clatter, they opened the side door, and I was genuinely grateful for that; the cows made the air rather too rich to breathe.
“Hey,” said one, “ain’t that that fucking hill we started out at this morning?”
“Summerdown,” said another. “Yeah, we’ve come in a great big fucking circle. Welcome to the army, Tredell.”
“Oh fuck you,” Tredell said without any malice. “It’s just creepy, that’s all. I heard Webber talking about it. What they found, you know. I was glad to get away from there, tell you the truth. And now here we are back again.”
“Tredell, you talk too fucking much,” the sergeant said.
The soldier named Lark returned then, panting, and said that something had gone wrong with the engine of the train and the enginists were fighting over what exactly, and Major Browne said to sit tight and he’d let them know if there was any need for action.
“Meaning we shouldn’t be asking in the first place,” the sergeant grumbled. “But if I hadn’t sent a man, he’d be all over me wanting to know if we were all asleep back here.”
“Welcome to the army, Sarge,” said Oddlin, and the sergeant swore at him blisteringly while the other men laughed.
My time sense was gone, lost in foul unending night, but it was not very long before the train jerked and groaned and began moving again. The soldiers raised an ironic cheer, and I fell back asleep as abruptly as falling down a well. Although it was Benallery who had followed Gerrard this time, not I.
Mildmay
Powers and saints, I was mad at him. Not so much about him making a pass at me because, tell you the truth, I’d been expecting that for decads. Who the fuck else did he have? I mean, me, I could find a chambermaid or a barmaid or some gal willing to trade my face for the chance to fuck somebody new, but the further north we got, the less we saw guys who were openly molly, and the more we saw people giving the hairy eyeball to guys who looked like they might be. Like Felix. It wasn’t safe. I knew it, and he knew it, and he was still pretty fucked up about everything, so I wasn’t sure he’d’ve gone hunting anyway.
But there I was, and I knew how he felt about me even if I didn’t understand it and didn’t share it, so I wasn’t surprised at him coming on to me, and I didn’t blame him or nothing. No, what had me too mad to see straight was what he did when I turned him down. It wasn’t even the part where he was getting back at me by using the binding- by- forms, it was the part where he was using me to punish himself. I don’t even know what he thought he needed to be punished for, but I’d knocked him flat on his ass, and he’d practically said thank you. That wasn’t about him wanting to fuck me. Not even a little. That was about him using what ever tool was handy to hurt himself.
I wanted to yell at him— no, more’n that. I wanted to howl at him, scream at him, beat him up for real, make him fucking admit that I wasn’t a tool for him to use. I wasn’t a knife, and I wasn’t a fucking clockwork bear, and if he wanted to hurt himself, he should have the common fucking courtesy not to use me to do it. Of course, I also wanted to pin him down and sit on him until he explained to me just why he thought he needed to be hurt, and then sit on him some more until he listened when I told him he’d already been hurt plenty and should just let it the fuck go.
But, you know, that wasn’t going to work, so I’d let it go, as best I could— but there was one thing I was hanging onto, and that was that I was not fucking apologizing this time. He wanted things right between us, he was going to have to do the work himself. And he was going to have to come out and say he was sorry. The looks he was giving me, and the awful, meek way he was creeping around like he thought I was going to hit him again and this time without being told to— that was all fine, pretty much standard for
With a long, rattling clatter, they opened the side door, and I was genuinely grateful for that; the cows made the air rather too rich to breathe.
“Hey,” said one, “ain’t that that fucking hill we started out at this morning?”
“Summerdown,” said another. “Yeah, we’ve come in a great big fucking circle. Welcome to the army, Tredell.”
“Oh fuck you,” Tredell said without any malice. “It’s just creepy, that’s all. I heard Webber talking about it. What they found, you know. I was glad to get away from there, tell you the truth. And now here we are back again.”
“Tredell, you talk too fucking much,” the sergeant said.
The soldier named Lark returned then, panting, and said that something had gone wrong with the engine of the train and the enginists were fighting over what exactly, and Major Browne said to sit tight and he’d let them know if there was any need for action.
“Meaning we shouldn’t be asking in the first place,” the sergeant grumbled. “But if I hadn’t sent a man, he’d be all over me wanting to know if we were all asleep back here.”
“Welcome to the army, Sarge,” said Oddlin, and the sergeant swore at him blisteringly while the other men laughed.
My time sense was gone, lost in foul unending night, but it was not very long before the train jerked and groaned and began moving again. The soldiers raised an ironic cheer, and I fell back asleep as abruptly as falling down a well. Although it was Benallery who had followed Gerrard this time, not I.
Mildmay
Powers and saints, I was mad at him. Not so much about him making a pass at me because, tell you the truth, I’d been expecting that for decads. Who the fuck else did he have? I mean, me, I could find a chambermaid or a barmaid or some gal willing to trade my face for the chance to fuck somebody new, but the further north we got, the less we saw guys who were openly molly, and the more we saw people giving the hairy eyeball to guys who looked like they might be. Like Felix. It wasn’t safe. I knew it, and he knew it, and he was still pretty fucked up about everything, so I wasn’t sure he’d’ve gone hunting anyway.
But there I was, and I knew how he felt about me even if I didn’t understand it and didn’t share it, so I wasn’t surprised at him coming on to me, and I didn’t blame him or nothing. No, what had me too mad to see straight was what he did when I turned him down. It wasn’t even the part where he was getting back at me by using the binding- by- forms, it was the part where he was using me to punish himself. I don’t even know what he thought he needed to be punished for, but I’d knocked him flat on his ass, and he’d practically said thank you. That wasn’t about him wanting to fuck me. Not even a little. That was about him using what ever tool was handy to hurt himself.
I wanted to yell at him— no, more’n that. I wanted to howl at him, scream at him, beat him up for real, make him fucking admit that I wasn’t a tool for him to use. I wasn’t a knife, and I wasn’t a fucking clockwork bear, and if he wanted to hurt himself, he should have the common fucking courtesy not to use me to do it. Of course, I also wanted to pin him down and sit on him until he explained to me just why he thought he needed to be hurt, and then sit on him some more until he listened when I told him he’d already been hurt plenty and should just let it the fuck go.
But, you know, that wasn’t going to work, so I’d let it go, as best I could— but there was one thing I was hanging onto, and that was that I was not fucking apologizing this time. He wanted things right between us, he was going to have to do the work himself. And he was going to have to come out and say he was sorry. The looks he was giving me, and the awful, meek way he was creeping around like he thought I was going to hit him again and this time without being told to— that was all fine, pretty much standard for
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