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thepanky · 1 month ago

Text

two dreams

Pairing: Anna x Lane

Rating: M

Tag List: @rc-catalog

crossposted on ao3

Anna and Lane dream of each other.

The sun has set on Rotkov. In the estate's shadowed halls, the night shift begins, but up here, in their shared room, things are beginning to slow down. The darkness seems to stick to every surface, and the shadows linger in places that the light can never seem to reach. The mansion is drafty and cold, and the creaking of old and rotten wood can be heard whenever the wind gusts.

Lane is sitting on her bed, reading a book, wearing an old over-sized t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants that Anna gave to her just after she moved in. Her notebook is open next to her, full of notes and sketches of obscure symbols. As Anna walks into their shared room, Lane looks up, surprised. The candle on their nightstand flickers and wanes.

She squints at the bottle in Anna’s hand. “What’s this?”

“Wine!” The wine bottle makes a hollow sound as Anna sets it down on their nightstand. "Found it in storage," she says, squinting at the label. "Date's smudged but... well, we'll find out if it's still good, won't we?"

She pours it into their canteen cups, careful not to spill. The liquid catches moonlight, dark as blood.

Lane takes a tentative sip, nose wrinkling. "It's… different."

"Bad different?" Anna takes a sip. It tastes fine at first, but the aftertaste is…

Seeing Anna’s reaction, Lane's mouth quirks up at one corner. That rare half-smile that always makes Anna's stomach flip. She takes a quick sip of the wine, and sits next to Lane on her bed, crossing her legs.

“You know what? It’s better than nothing.”

Another half smile from Lane, and then she holds up her cup to Anna’s.

“A toast? What for?”

"To our better-than-nothing wine." Lane's voice carries a hint of something Anna can't quite read – amusement? Their cups clink softly in the darkness.

They sit in silence for a moment. Anna watches Lane from the corner of her eye, the way she holds herself – always slightly apart, slightly removed. Even now, sharing wine in their room, Lane seems somehow untouchable. She stares past Anna's shoulder at something only she can see, lost in thought.

"I miss coffee," Anna says, just to break the silence. "Real coffee, I mean. Not whatever I can find scrounging through old MREs.”

Lane's attention snaps back and she smiles again, this time a littler softer. “Me too.” She taps her finger against her canteen, thinking. “I miss hot baths whenever I wanted one. When I could just come home after a long day and not worry about how much water I could use, or if there’s any hot water left.”

“What about the bathhouse? It was nice.”

“And go there alone? The locals freak me out, and I don’t speak the language. I’d rather go with you again.”

Anna remembers their time together in the bathhouse – the steam, the echoing walls, the way Lane's voice had sounded different there, somehow clearer. And the way Lane looked at her when she thought Anna wasn’t looking – but maybe she’s imagining things – she doesn’t know if Lane even likes women. The memory makes her skin warm in a way that has nothing to do with the wine.

“Yeah. I mean, we can go whenever.” Why am I flustered all of a sudden? She didn’t mean anything by it, Anna thinks. She leans over and pours herself another cup of wine. Lane holds her cup up, and she pours her another cup too.

“Y’know, if the rest of the squad finds out about this, they’re gonna be pissed.” Anna says it lightly, but there's a thrill in this secret they're sharing, this moment that belongs to just them.

“Over our expired wine?”

“Over our better-than-nothing wine, yes.”

The silence seems to drag on for a beat too long, and then…

"They’re afraid of me, you know.” Lane says quietly, “The squad is. Or they think I’m dead weight, because I can’t fight as well as they can, or they just don’t like me, for whatever reason. But you seem to like me. Why?”

“Well, I – I guess know you better than they do. Most of the squad are easy to read, but you…” Anna trails off.

“Aren’t?” Lane's eyes meet hers, curious and intent.

“Yeah. I talk too much, don’t I?” Anna says, feeling self conscious.

“Not at all. I like hearing you talk. Even about stupid things.”

The candlelight flickers across Lane's face. The compliment catches Anna off-guard. When did they get so close? The bed seems smaller somehow, the air between them charged with possibility.

“Are you drunk?” Anna says. Maybe the wine was stronger than she thought it’d be.

“No. Are you?”

Heat crawls up Anna's neck. She takes another sip of wine to hide it, but Lane is watching her over the rim of her own cup.

Lane's hand finds Anna's knee in the darkness. It slides up, slowly, deliberately. She looks for a moment to see if it’s alright, and Anna puts her cup down on the nightstand – and before Anna can say anything Lane pushes her down on the bed, hovering over her. Her face hovers close enough that Anna can feel warm breath against her cheek. Every nerve in Anna's body is screaming, caught between desire and confusion. Lane's lips brush her ear –

"Anna." Her voice is barely above a whisper. "Do you want to know a secret?"

The silence stretches between them, electric. Anna's heart pounds so loud she's sure Lane must hear it. She should say something – anything – to break this tension, but her mind is blank. All she can focus on is the slight part of Lane's lips, the way her pajama shirt hangs loose at the collar, revealing skin – she’s not wearing a bra… does she know that Anna can see…?

"Yes." The word comes out breathless.

"You're already awake."

Anna jolts upright, gasping. Her heart hammers against her ribs as she fumbles for her glasses. Across the room, Lane sleeps peacefully in her own bed, face turned towards Anna's. Moonlight paints her features in silver and shadow.

The sheets cling to Anna's sweat-damp skin. That familiar ache pulses between her legs, made worse by the sight of Lane's parted lips, the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

Tomorrow, she decides, she'll volunteer for night patrol. Anything to escape this room, these dreams, this maddening uncertainty. Anything to escape the way Lane looks at her, like she knows exactly what Anna is thinking…

But for now, Anna lies awake, watching shadows move across the ceiling, hyper aware of every sound Lane makes in her sleep. Wondering if maybe, just maybe, she isn't the only one lying awake, pretending.

The squad's train car sways gently as it hurtles through the night. Lane sits awake, listening to the rhythmic clacking of the wheels on the tracks, unable to sleep. The dim cabin lights cast long shadows, and the air feels thick, electric. Dangerous. Lane sits in the darkness of her cabin, staring at the wall, tired but unable to sleep.

Quietly, Lane rises and makes her way to Anna's cabin. The door creaks softly as she slips inside, the space even smaller and more shadowed than the main car. Anna looks up, startled, then offers a tired smile. She has a stack of papers spread across her lap – laboratory reports, probably. Petri dish cultures of soil samples from Rotkov, showing strange growth patterns. Some of the samples are marked with red tape – anomalous behavior, unexplained reactions, mutations that shouldn't be possible. The kind of thing that keeps a scientist up at night.

"Can't sleep?"

"Yeah." Lane hesitates. "You're busy and it's late. I'll head back."

"No – wait." Anna scoots over on the narrow bunk, making space. The gesture is casual, but something in her voice sounds different. Softer.

"Thanks." Lane sinks down onto the edge of the narrow bunk, the mattress dipping under her weight. She feels the tension leave her body as she lays back, Anna's familiar presence soothing her restlessness. Her breathing steadies, her muscles relax…

And then, Lane knows she's dreaming.

She opens her eyes to find Anna sitting at the end of the bunk, silhouetted against the faint light. But there's something off about it – the way Anna sits, the way the light falls. Everything has that peculiar dream-sharpness to it – too vivid, too precise. The light doesn't quite follow the rules of physics, casting impossible shadows. Anna's silhouette seems to blur at the edges, like a watercolor painting left in the rain.

"Anna."

"Yeah?" Anna says, not looking up. Her voice sounds distant, like it's coming from underwater.

Slowly, tenderly, Lane reaches over and takes off Anna's glasses, setting them aside. The glasses feel heavy in her hand, substantial in a way dream objects rarely are.

“Lane –?”

“Shh,” she murmurs, leaning in. “Let me dream.”

This is probably the only place she'll get to, anyway. The thought aches, a dull pain beneath her ribs.

Anna hesitates for a moment, then pulls Lane in for a kiss. The movement is unexpected – decisive, hungry. Not the Anna she knows, but the Anna she's imagined in her most secret moments. Lane can taste the fruitiness of her chapstick as her tongue glides across Anna’s lips. It’s soft and slow and open. Lane hasn’t kissed anyone like this in a long time, much less another woman.

Anna's pulse flutters as Lane's fingers glide along the curve of her neck. She can feel the racing of Anna's heartbeat, the outline of her bra through the thin fabric of her shirt. She can hear the wet sounds of them kissing against the distant clacking of the train on its tracks. A moan catches in Lane's throat, the sound escaping before she can stifle it. She wraps her arms around Anna’s shoulders, crawling on top of her lap.

They pull apart for a moment. The light shifts across her face, open and questioning.

“You're beautiful,” Lane breathes, burying her face in the warm curve of Anna's neck and inhaling deeply. Her lips brush the delicate skin there, just barely. “You're beau –”

Lane wakes.

She lies in the darkness, every inch of her skin tingling, her heart pounding. Anna is behind her, her back against Lane's.

Lane lies perfectly still, her back pressed against Anna's. The train rocks and sways, a steady rhythm that feels almost like a heartbeat. Her skin still tingles from the dream, phantom sensations of a touch that never happened.

She can hear Anna's breathing. Soft. Steady. Unaware. The darkness feels heavy, loaded with unspoken things. Lane knows she should sleep, should let the moment pass, but her mind won't quiet.

This is the closest I’ll ever be, Lane thinks. A breath away. Separated by layers of clothing, by uncertainty, by the fragile architecture of their friendship.

Her hand moves, almost of its own volition. Not touching. Just… hovering. Close enough to feel the heat of Anna's body. Close enough to imagine.

Outside, the landscape blurs. Dark fields and distant trees streak past the barred window of the cabin. The broken moon hanging low and heavy.

Lane closes her eyes, tries to recapture the dream, tries to hold onto that moment of perfect, impossible intimacy.

Morning will come soon enough.

#my fanfic #rc hsr #rc anna #rc lane #annalane #romance club

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overlycaffeinatedwarmage · 6 years ago

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So four of us were at MegaCon last weekend and we had a chance to talk KC’s ear off. We also had a chance to listen to her a bit. I, of course, took notes. Here’s what I got. Please feel free to ask questions about anything I have. I will flesh out what I can!

Panel notes:

None of her characters are based on real people that she knows. Too much bad shit happens to them. An element of her work that she’s proud of: she uses her history degree with her writing. Favorite mythologies to write are about gods (didn’t mention one particular cultural pantheon). Lots of cross over with various mythologies throughout the world. Makes sense since people travel and talk. Many of the giddy traits cross over, some of the gods are identical across cultures too.

Mythology has everything that Urban Fantasy has in it, romance, heroes, monsters, etc. Really UF is a retelling of the old stories in a modern way. We even have similar stories across stories, just like they did. God in a jar mythology is a common theme (Artemis is in a jar right now dajuan note).

World building: Write what you need for first book, world building wise, never enough pages for world building per book. Don't do all at once. Too much, leave some for future books. Your editor will always tell you to cut it down anyway. You need to know the world and back story even if audience doesn't yet. Audience will know if you contradict something and they will tell you. But don’t box yourself in, don’t let others write your rules, break them if you need to.

Writing is a you learn as you go craft. When you read your old stuff, think to yourself "look how far I’ve come!" rather than cringe at it. You aren't perfect. Enjoy what you are now and learn from it and grow from it. Work on the story, that’s what people care about more than the grammar and perfect characters, those are important but secondary to the story itself.

She knows the major beats of story now, but not all the details yet. Mystery authors are her favorites (Agatha Christie was mentioned several times). Liked mischievous gods, assholes, they more fun. If they are good, watch out! (Daj note, I got big HINT vibes here! Artemis isn't as altruistic as she seems maybe?? Personally, I've been wondering about her for a while. There is definitely more going on with her.)

Stay in genre but make it new, fresh spin: take new things, Pythia, new abilities. Hard to make vampire different, same with witch. Pick new creature to explore. Go back to original myths Bonicon: ox type thing, napalm from butt (need to look up name, I am 100% sure I either misheard or misspelled it). Must do some digging to find new stuff.

Add some realism, how do the characters get money? Stuff like that (ie early Cassie and Billy cheating casinos) Mystery, how keep threat level up? Kill someone else! World expansion: story or character come first? It depends All characters must have an arc. Even supporting characters, must change or not believable. Five characters in a scene, all should have a distinct voice. A friend should be able to tell which character said a line a dialogue Character best friend? Rosier, she would hang out with him (we cheered, loudly).

Personal discussion:

Mircea always a rogue. No one should be surprised by his shit in RtS. It was telegraphed all the way back in TtD.

Cassie is an extrovert who had to learn to be introvert by upbringing. She is learning to let people in now.

Cassie has a woman’s strength, is girly and ok with it. Meant to be a character many women could relate to.

Dory by herself would be boring(?) Dorina is what makes her unique or interesting. She would be more cookie cutter character without Dorina.

KC doesn’t want to write cookie cutter characters or stories.

There are so many characters out there for all types of men (strong, weak, nerdy, whatever) but not all types of women. Cassie is an “everywoman" character that every woman could see an aspect of themselves in. Because think about it, if shit were to hit the fan what would you do? Go out guns blazing or hide behind the sofa? Probably hide behind the sofa.

There was a lot of Tolkien talk about the three whole female characters in those books. I’m a little foggy here because Tolkien is not my thing, (I had to ask who everyone was to be sure I understood, yes I was a little embarrassed). One character was the prize for the king, one was a warrior woman or essentially a “man with boobs," and one was actually a woman with her own agency. There have to be more roles for women in fantasy than this. We deserve better. There is nothing wrong with the warrior woman, but that’s not all woman and many can't see themselves like that. (Daj note I can't see myself in the warrior women and I'm stronger than the average woman. Strength, power is not my strength. I’m excited to see a wider variety of role models for young women.)

There are at least 3 more books after BtT. Big stuff is coming! No, we didn’t ask what!

KC does not write romances! This has been said before but needs to be reiterated. She writes about people and people have romance, sex, friends, enemies, etc so of course there would be elements of that in the books. Otherwise the characters would not be believable. She does write damn good stories and characters though. All of her characters have arcs, they change because real people change. The bigger the character the bigger the arc. Smaller or side characters have arcs too, though, they just have smaller ones.

There are some obvious hints in books as to what is coming that we are all missing. (No, we didn’t ask what they were. We did our best not to blatantly ask for spoilers. There were things that we would say that she'd just smile at, but I'm not saying what. I'm doing *my* damnedest not to spoil people as well.) People will sometimes pick up the smallest of hints she thinks they will miss though.

Yes, Mircea has a foot fetish. Why not? It's mild as fetishes go really. (We had a good giggle about that.) Again, it's a thing that makes him real. Rian chose Casanova for a reason and it's a BIG reason. If you catch my drift ;) (More giggles and an embarrassing amount of discussion was spent here.)

Rosier speech "fake it, everyone else is too" has gotten her through a lot (daj note, me too. It’s my favorite speech in the series, I give and get it often.)

Again, any errors are mine. I do not speak for Karen Chance so do not hold her to anything that I have written here. Most of this is cobbled together from notes and exhausted, overexcited memory. She is free to correct me on any errors that I have made, and I sincerely apologize for making them and potentially speaking out of turn. She was an absolute blast to chat with and I am honored to have been given the opportunity to spend a few hours with her this weekend. I will forever claim that she is one of the kindest authors and people that I have met. I know a lot of wicked cool people, so I don't give that praise lightly. Let me know if you have any questions. I’ll will try to answer what I can. If my roomies have anything to add, please feel free! @emberfaye @pritkinspalemoons @annalane

#cassie palmer #karen chance #dorina basarab #cassandra palmer series

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