valiantrebel: (but come Kate)
Harry Percy, Hotspur of the North ([personal profile] valiantrebel) wrote in [community profile] milliways_bar2013-04-28 08:32 pm

(no subject)

"We'll be married next I see thee," he'd said, after they'd kissed in private, one last time.

At which Kate's eyes had crinkled, as he was already loving to see them, and she'd smirked. "Unless, my lord, we happen to meet elsewhere."

That had been weeks ago, and though Harry has been as wildly happy as he's ever been in his life, ever since he and his father had left the Mortimers in Hereford, he'd found no door, no passage, and no Kate, for all he's entered every room with hope.

Perhaps because he is not thinking on it -- because Alnwick and Warkworth both are humming with preparations for Harry and his lady-to-be to take up residence and management at the latter -- because he is stuffed to the gills with tailors and bishops and letters to the king, he stops thinking of where he is going, only of escape.

Which is precisely when he steps through, realizes where he is, and beams—in hope.

Even if you aren't Elizabeth Mortimer, this is really an excellent time to meet him.

[[ooc: 4/28 11:25 p.m -- Heading to sleep soon, but this post is open until it scrolls!]]
mr_gaeta: (officer of the fleet)

[personal profile] mr_gaeta 2013-04-30 03:26 am (UTC)(link)
"It's...definitely different, fighting a war in space," says Gaeta wryly. "More buttons and bullets, less hand-to-hand combat. At least where I was stationed; I worked on the ship's bridge."

Though even that saw its share of bullets before the end. Much more than Gaeta would have ever wanted.
mr_gaeta: (and a star to steer her by)

[personal profile] mr_gaeta 2013-04-30 03:59 am (UTC)(link)
He nods.

"I went through boot camp like everyone else," he says. "Target practice, flight certification, tactics. Tactics were the only thing I ended up using on a daily basis, though."
mr_gaeta: (getting older)

[personal profile] mr_gaeta 2013-04-30 04:09 am (UTC)(link)
Yeah, he knows. Being a bridge bunny is never glamorous.

"I might have?" he says, the words turning up into a question without Gaeta really meaning to do so. "The name sounds familiar, but my memory's kind of..."

He almost lifts a hand to gesture vaguely toward his head, then, between the crutches and the marshmallows, thinks better of it.