It’s freezing outside, and Austin’s building’s front door is like some sort of Nirvana, shining forth into the hardship and dusty toil of a Tuesday night. He’s walked twenty minutes from the library, where he spent six hours fighting with Cicero, until the Latin was swimming in front of his eyes. It takes two or three frustrating tries, numb fingers fumbling his keys, before he gets inside and breathes in warm air.

He makes for the stairs without even looking at the mailbox. Getting home has given him enough energy to jog up the first flight, but it fades pretty fast, and he takes the second at more of a trudge. He checks the time as he sorts through his keys again: eight forty-seven. Crap, he never had dinner, no wonder he feels so…extra-awful. He thinks about food, thinks that he’d maybe rather not.


Ahras Huitwalassis

Mita had just managed to find a seller offering Assyrian cloth when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned, thinking that his father or Kuzari had come to snap at him for taking so long, and saw a big, good-looking, unfamiliar man.

“Excuse me,” said the man in accented Luwian. His voice was deep but quiet, and he’d lifted his hand and stepped back a bit; he wasn’t wearing a sword, just a tentative smile.



by frostfire (mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/118609.html) Reid hadn’t been intending to go out that night; he’d planned to finish up his job, go home, shower off all the dust and bird crap and dirt and other planet-specific detritus (he missed living on a station so fucking bad, sometimes), and sleep the happy sleep of someone that-much-closer to […]


Yes, Even Educated Fleas

by frostfire (mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/109548.html) It had been a completely shit day–hit off instead of snooze, coffee on the dress pants, mixed messages, missed deadlines–nothing life-threatening, but totally Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad territory. So Dave was already struggling to finish all the crap he had to do when Reggie-the-boss stuck his head into Dave’s office […]