Title: Three Dangers with Slash.
Fandom: Rome, Primeval, Stargate:Atlantis.
#1 Short Summary: Idle Chatting. Target – Titus Pullo.
#2 Short Summary: Translation Gaffes. Target – Rodney McKay.
#3 Short Summary: Instincts Gone Awry. Target – Helen Cutter.
Author’s note: I figured I’m so horrid when it comes to writing slash...may as well make full use of that.
PS: Master_Kogane, if this does not accord with your understanding of our agreement, feel free to ask me to try again.
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters. The Parthians were real, and ruled Persia. There really are pronouns which encompass both 1st and 2nd Person.
Location: Roman-Persian Border:
Standing here in the southern reaches of the Commagene Kingdom, Titus Pullo tried to ignore the hardened stares of the giant heads that rested in plain view not far up the mountain slope from here. Each one carved of a single piece of stone, Pullo didn’t know if they were clan totems or gods – the local wench he’d bedded last week hadn’t told him anything about them.
At the moment, the Commagene royals were friendlier to Rome than to Persia. As said, at the moment. I am going to kill whomever gave the order to have me sent out here, Pullo thought to himself as he stood sentry duty outside the fortress gates here in the highlands of eastern Asia, east of the Pontus kingdom (added to Rome before my time).
There weren’t too many merchants or tourists passing through right now, so he could focus his attention on the handful of Parthians approaching. He knew most of those men – they were the Persian equivalent of him, and could drink to prove it. At the moment, they seemed to be off-duty.
“Pullo! Want to use my trousers?” one of them asked.
Not particularly caring for that sort of clothing – entirely too Parthian for his tastes – Titus said, “You’re using them.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Didn’t know they were that baggy,” Pullo replied.
“I don’t mind a little closeness if you don’t.”
I am going to kill whoever had the bright idea to send me here, Pullo thought to himself once more. Right after I kill these Persians. “I’d prefer sharing your trousers with your sister,” provoking him.
Location: 1st Planet Orbiting a White Star in the Pegasus Galaxy:
At a festival held in a dining hall full of important and self-important people both locals and visitors, Teyla strolled over to where Rodney was finishing a conversation with a snub-nosed tall-faced lady, who walked off to refill their glasses. “Hey, Teyla,” Rodney said. “Having fun?”
She refrained from glaring at him – it was not his fault that she was being tasked with babysitting Ronon and keeping him out of trouble. What she didn’t refrain from doing, however, was to talk about what Rodney’d just told that woman. “You know that their language is based on that of my people, yes?”
Rodney nodded. “An offshoot of Athosian; yeah, Dr. Corrigan told me.”
“Did doctor Corrigan also teach you my language?” hoping the answer was No.
“Enough that I told her that I’d love to work closely with her,” the her in question being Llin Fyrsmorn Rii.
“I overheard you mention –kyrmasot- and a wish to work with the highest-ranked scientist possible.”
“That’s right…she did, after all, tell me that she’s the Assistant Director of Science in this world’s government.”
“And you used the Athosian pronoun.”
“They use it too.”
Looking a bit uncomfortable, Teyla confessed, “Rodney, doctor Corrigan has been known to be very forward and unsettling to my people, myself included. –kyrmasot- is a pronoun that means two people – myself and yourself.”
“It suggests a degree of intimacy.”
Teyla dropped the bomb: “While we only use it with the opposite sex, Assistant Director Fyrsmorn’s people abandoned that linguistic restriction two hundred and fifty-seven years ago.”
In a small voice, “What?”
Pointing out Rii’s superior, Teyla said, “He is the head of their Science Ministry,” pointing to a somewhat corpulent chap who looked like he’d never gotten over the chicken pox.
“What??” Rodney couldn’t help but say.
Teyla nodded, sorry to have to tell him that.
“But I thought…” and, before all this, he’d figured that Rii was either setting Rodney up with her or someone else, he pointed out to Teyla the other topic of the conversation he’d held with Rii, “then who’s she- the uber-long-legged super-busty blonde over in the corner?”
“That,” Teyla said, “is their President.”
“Some countries have all the luck,” Rodney moaned.
It had been simplicity enough to reach this part of Ireland – it wasn’t yet Ireland, and wouldn’t be Ireland for another two hundred-plus million years.
Helen Cutter stood there, admiring the scenery here in the mid-Permian. There was a gorgonopsid circling her, but it wasn’t hungry (having eaten two dinocephalians for breakfast), so it was no threat...they didn’t kill for sport. So Helen just smiled as she imagined having Nick by her side to enjoy the view here.
It happened too fast for her to react – the gorgonopsid bowled her over, perched on her (a paw on each arm and leg) – and it just stood there. Like it was waiting for something. The damned thing was entirely too quiet, with not even a throaty growl or a breathy hiss.
Once the shock started to wear off, Helen realized what was going on: she’d seen this sort of thing happen more than once, but always to gorgons, though one confused gorgon had tipped over a Moschops...the female gorgonopsids, being bigger than the males, had an easy time knocking their mates off their feet and onto their backs; the females then held them down, and the males reflexively shot up their collapsible reproductive organ into the dominating female gorgon.
Feeling rather irate that this gorgonopsid was too skinny and weak to catch anything of its own species, Helen had no choice but to wait for it to grow bored…and to hope that it didn’t then decide it was hungry.
After a long while – one minute felt far too long! – the gorgonopsid strolled off, intent on finding a real male.
As she sat up, massaging her sore limbs, Helen knew that never ever would she speak of this. It didn’t matter if the fate of the world hinged on her making a disclosure of this event – Helen resolved to not even tell *Nick* about it.
Well...perhaps give him some vague hints that’ll keep him from tackling any gorgonopsids.
The scary thing is, the gorgonopsid plot bunny has been in my mind ever since I saw the first episode of Primeval