Stoll and Lel

Another Stoll and Lelie piece, this one trying to capture some of the awkwardness between the two older stowaways.

Lelie pulled at the strings of the makeshift instrument, creating a gentle, rhythmic reverberation in the hollowed shell. She smiled and plucked again, experimenting with force and tempo. Then she hummed, matching the tonality of her voice to that of the ululating strings. Her mentor had taught her how to play many instruments, and how to sing many songs, but there was only one – an ancient one – that she remembered at this moment:

“Sing I must, whether will or no.
Such pain over him, whose friend am I.
Grace and poetry avail me not
Nor beauty, virtue, wit.
Brought low, betrayed am I,
As if no charms at all.”

“Lel?”

Lelie looked up, startled by the intrusion. She was accustomed to being alone; outside of her lessons, few within the compound associated themselves with the Cressidene.

She smiled when she saw the young man standing at her door. “Oh, Stoll. Hello.” She set her instrument on the table and stood up.

He smiled back at her from the doorway. “I heard you singing. It was pretty.”

She chuckled, feeling self-conscious. Stoll had always been sweet to her, but as one of the fledgling Comitatenses, he was definitely lacking in the finer graces. But the bio-engineered soldiers were trained merely to be proficient fighters, not to have the more subtle skills of the social classes. “Thank you,” she said, bowing her head.

He took a step inside, then another. Very shortly, he had crossed to the table, where he laid one hand. “You don't have to stop,” he muttered. “I like listening to you sing.”

Lelie hid a smile behind her hand, playing demure the way she had been taught to do. She moved around the table to him. “That's very sweet of you to say.”

He offered her a slightly lopsided smile. “I wish I could do things like that.”

“Sing?” She asked, and he gave a little nod of his head. She chuckled again and took him by the hand, leading him over to her cot. “It's easy,” she told him, and reached over to the instrument on the table. This she handed to him, placing it in the crook of one of his arms. “I'll show you.”

She sat down beside him and reached across to his other hand. She laid his fingers over the strings in much the same way that she had done, except that he looked significantly more awkward.

She giggled. “Just pluck at the strings,” she said, and she showed him how.

Stoll pushed the instrument back at her. “I don't want to play. I just want to listen to you.”

Lelie made a cooing noise. “Oh, it's really not that difficult. Just give it a try.”

He shook his head. “No, I- I can't.” He raised his hands, as if in surrender. “I can't do this sort of thing. I'm not built for it.”

She smiled again, more softly now. “Stoll, don't be ridiculous. You can do whatever you want to do.”

His eyes darted up to hers, and then suddenly, he leaned forward and kissed her. His arms closed around her, and he pressed against her, his grip tight on her arms. He pushed her down toward the flat of her cot, his strength and weight overpowering her.

Lelie felt an alarmed noise escape from her throat, though muffled by his kiss. She shoved both palms against his chest, succeeding in pushing him away enough to shimmy out from beneath him. “Stoll-!” She sat back from him, clutching at her tunic. “Wh-What are you doing?”

He glanced away, mouth agape, and then stood up quickly. “I'm sorry,” he muttered. “I'm sorry, I don't know-” He backed away toward the door and bit at his bottom lip. “I'm sorry!” He said again, and bolted from her room.