“I’m looking for a nurse.”
Darcy Weatherfare spoke down to the harried looking woman manning the front desk of the military hospital, both literally and figuratively. He was decidedly taller than she would have been even if she had been standing, and his authoritative tone filled the space in such a way that suggested his whims would be met quickly and accurately. Darcy could intimidate without his height or his tone. All he needed was his tailored officer’s uniform and the shining bars on his chest that heralded him as a high ranking general. Even more so was the Covenant of Allied Forces, Central Command patch on his sleeve that blatantly stated that this was a man who would be listened to.
“Or a healer. Whatever it is those Eskran women call themselves.”
He frowned down at the desk-woman when she did not immediately jump into action. She was staring at him. He had that effect on people. There was no denying that General Weatherfare was a handsome man. He cleared his throat pointedly and the woman blinked rapidly.
Her gaze fell away from him, bashfully. “Of course, General…uh..”
“Weatherfare.”
Her voice had wavered when she spoke, and Darcy sympathized with her, but he did not drop his coolly indifferent facade. He had a part to play, just like anyone else.
They were in the middle of a war after all.
“General Weatherfare,” she echoed in understanding. She was Eskran as well, but her short-cropped brunette hair meant she wasn’t the one he was seeking. “Who exactly are you looking for?”
“Exactly?” His brows lifted towards his hairline. The dark locks were combed back towards the crown of his head. Warm amber eyes rolled upwards as well, but it was unclear whether they shifted in thought or in annoyance. “I don’t know. She’s about this big.” He lifted his hand, palm down, to indicate a height that was just below his sternum. “And she has red hair. Very red. She very recently treated Sargent Hart for an infection.”
The woman didn’t look happy. ‘Of average height, with red hair’ was not the most specific of descriptors for an Eskran woman. “Wait here,” was all she said after a moment of thought before she turned her back on him and disappeared further into the medical facility.
Darcy sighed and pushed his hand through his hair. His hands disappeared into the pockets of his slacks as he waited.
Darcy Weatherfare spoke down to the harried looking woman manning the front desk of the military hospital, both literally and figuratively. He was decidedly taller than she would have been even if she had been standing, and his authoritative tone filled the space in such a way that suggested his whims would be met quickly and accurately. Darcy could intimidate without his height or his tone. All he needed was his tailored officer’s uniform and the shining bars on his chest that heralded him as a high ranking general. Even more so was the Covenant of Allied Forces, Central Command patch on his sleeve that blatantly stated that this was a man who would be listened to.
“Or a healer. Whatever it is those Eskran women call themselves.”
He frowned down at the desk-woman when she did not immediately jump into action. She was staring at him. He had that effect on people. There was no denying that General Weatherfare was a handsome man. He cleared his throat pointedly and the woman blinked rapidly.
Her gaze fell away from him, bashfully. “Of course, General…uh..”
“Weatherfare.”
Her voice had wavered when she spoke, and Darcy sympathized with her, but he did not drop his coolly indifferent facade. He had a part to play, just like anyone else.
They were in the middle of a war after all.
“General Weatherfare,” she echoed in understanding. She was Eskran as well, but her short-cropped brunette hair meant she wasn’t the one he was seeking. “Who exactly are you looking for?”
“Exactly?” His brows lifted towards his hairline. The dark locks were combed back towards the crown of his head. Warm amber eyes rolled upwards as well, but it was unclear whether they shifted in thought or in annoyance. “I don’t know. She’s about this big.” He lifted his hand, palm down, to indicate a height that was just below his sternum. “And she has red hair. Very red. She very recently treated Sargent Hart for an infection.”
The woman didn’t look happy. ‘Of average height, with red hair’ was not the most specific of descriptors for an Eskran woman. “Wait here,” was all she said after a moment of thought before she turned her back on him and disappeared further into the medical facility.
Darcy sighed and pushed his hand through his hair. His hands disappeared into the pockets of his slacks as he waited.
I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you.
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Rainbow of Red [Closed] - by megs - 01-18-2018, 07:46 PM
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