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Things not spoken of
Jul. 10th, 2007 12:34 pmThe week passes quickly with Makita and Proto chipping in wherever the squad needs help. Trenches are dug, walls reinforced, supplies cached, and ambush points prepared. A single week with no fighting should add at least a month to the time that the Reds can be kept out of this sector. It's another holding action, sure, but that's what the 'Gorkas are reduced to these days. They don't have much in the way of infrastructure left, and the Reds still have the remains of an empire.
Work is not the only thing that is done during the storm. There is singing, dancing, and shared laughter around the fire. Makita spends time with her papa as he tells her stories of the old days before the war. He speaks of the Battle of Ka'Dathra's Gate where he had fought beside the Red Fleet and watched the Nistaani break the empire's back. He speaks of the legends of the people, of the times before the coming of the Reds, of the Golden Horde who taught the 'Gorkas to fight when they invaded centuries ago.
The stories are good, but the real joy is a daughter simply spending time with her father, and in between the stories they speak of the things that truly matter.
As they sit beside the fire Makita leans in under her father's arm, "I've missed you papa."
"I've missed you, too, my beautiful girl."
"Stop that." Normally Makita would punctuate her admonition with an elbow in the ribs, but she's to comfortable where she is to bother.
"Quit what?" papa asks, but his voice is teasing as if he already knows.
"I'm not beautiful."
He turns to look down at her, his eyes serious. "You, are, you know. You are so much like your mother, and she was the most beautiful woman I've ever known..."
Makita straightens slightly, "You never talk about her."
"And I won't start today, my child," he smiles.
This time she does elbow him in the ribs, "You do that on purpose, don't you?" She shakes her head with a fond grin, "Changing the subject isn't really going to prove you right, you know."
Papa's laugh is deep and rich and sounds like home and safety and better times. "You want me to prove it to you, then? Why that is the easiest thing in the world." When Makita smirks and leans back as if to say "prove it" he grins and calls out, "Proto, come here, I've got a question for you."
"Hey!" That's cheating!
Papa reaches down and playfully covers Makita's mouth with a hand, "You wanted me to prove it, and so I will." There's a grin on his face as he turns to Proto, "Proto, Makita and I are having a little disagreement. Tell me: is she beautiful?"
Proto knows them both well enough to piece together most of the conversation and he smiles widely. "I don't know..." he teases. Then Makita sticks her tongue out at him and he laughs.
Papa is adamant, "Come on, Proto, you can't weasel your way out of this. You've got to answer."
With a nod Proto turns and looks straight at Makita, eyes serious. "The most beautiful woman I've ever known."
Work is not the only thing that is done during the storm. There is singing, dancing, and shared laughter around the fire. Makita spends time with her papa as he tells her stories of the old days before the war. He speaks of the Battle of Ka'Dathra's Gate where he had fought beside the Red Fleet and watched the Nistaani break the empire's back. He speaks of the legends of the people, of the times before the coming of the Reds, of the Golden Horde who taught the 'Gorkas to fight when they invaded centuries ago.
The stories are good, but the real joy is a daughter simply spending time with her father, and in between the stories they speak of the things that truly matter.
As they sit beside the fire Makita leans in under her father's arm, "I've missed you papa."
"I've missed you, too, my beautiful girl."
"Stop that." Normally Makita would punctuate her admonition with an elbow in the ribs, but she's to comfortable where she is to bother.
"Quit what?" papa asks, but his voice is teasing as if he already knows.
"I'm not beautiful."
He turns to look down at her, his eyes serious. "You, are, you know. You are so much like your mother, and she was the most beautiful woman I've ever known..."
Makita straightens slightly, "You never talk about her."
"And I won't start today, my child," he smiles.
This time she does elbow him in the ribs, "You do that on purpose, don't you?" She shakes her head with a fond grin, "Changing the subject isn't really going to prove you right, you know."
Papa's laugh is deep and rich and sounds like home and safety and better times. "You want me to prove it to you, then? Why that is the easiest thing in the world." When Makita smirks and leans back as if to say "prove it" he grins and calls out, "Proto, come here, I've got a question for you."
"Hey!" That's cheating!
Papa reaches down and playfully covers Makita's mouth with a hand, "You wanted me to prove it, and so I will." There's a grin on his face as he turns to Proto, "Proto, Makita and I are having a little disagreement. Tell me: is she beautiful?"
Proto knows them both well enough to piece together most of the conversation and he smiles widely. "I don't know..." he teases. Then Makita sticks her tongue out at him and he laughs.
Papa is adamant, "Come on, Proto, you can't weasel your way out of this. You've got to answer."
With a nod Proto turns and looks straight at Makita, eyes serious. "The most beautiful woman I've ever known."
