Aboard the NEKHBET Who: Rezek and Dalia Where: In Nekhbet's galley When: Late into the ship's "night" Summary: A small late-night chat Rating: NC-17 Status: COMPLETE
It was late into Nekhmet's night, lights dimmed, air circulating a few degrees cooler, the steady thrum of engines rising from the decking and into his bare feet to vibrate into his bones, mostly unnoticed after four years of living aboard her. Rezek could hear the whoosh of circulating air, the hum of engines and the creak of metal, ceramic and plastics as the ship sailed on through space. At his elbow a cup of tea steeped, fragrant jasmine. A luxury and an expense to be sure, but Rezek was a man who liked his creature comforts.
The scent of oil was heavy in his nose, the shkk-shkk of blade sliding across whetstone familiar and calming. There was something meditative about cleaning, sharpening and polishing his knives, and the irony was not lost on him--to feel peaceful while preparing weapons to kill.
He sat at the long dining table in the galley, dressed in a tee shirt and a pair of loose sleep pants, a dozen blades lined up neatly on a cloth before him. Dalia had fussed at him once for not protecting the wood from the oil, though in Rezek's estimation a little oil certainly wouldn't hurt the aged table. To keep the peace, he'd started using a cloth, and in truth it was no skin off his nose to do so. With Dalia he had to pick his battles and this was not worth the bother.
Rezek paused to take a sip of tea. The heat of the tea through the thin china warmed his fingers. He wasn't certain if it was the soft, almost silent scrape of foot against decking or merely that odd sixth sense that had saved his life so often, but he knew without looking that he was no longer alone.
Setting the cup back on the table and taking up his dagger to smooth it across the whetstone, he said, his voice soft and pleasant with a tiny hint of teasing, "How do you ever sneak up on anyone, clumping around as you do like a drunken cow?"