Hello, everyone. This is my entry to the Sunny Funny Gone with the Wind ficathon. This is only my second time with a ficathon so be nice in your criticism. I had a bit of trouble with my assignment so in the words of my beta "Do you have a plot in mind yet, or is it just gonna be pointless yet entertaining fun?"…this is the kind of entry I'm putting forth. Sorry, but I know next to nothing about philosophy and I have no idea what the quote means out of context. I hope you enjoy a lighthearted Scarlett/Rhett story as summer is winding down. And I hope confrontation doesn't mean banter and playfulness. Because I love banter and playfulness. : ) Please review!! Much love, Cat.
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MY ASSIGNMENT: You will be writing the choice of: PICASSINI: Likes/dislikes that are optional for writer:
Likes: Ashley, timeline-shifts, philosophy
Don't like: Confrontation with Rhett
I walk without flinching through the burning cathedral of the summer. (the rest of the quote) My bank of wild grass is majestic and full of music. It is a fire that solitude presses against my lips. ~Violette Leduc, Mad in Pursuit
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"I walk without flinching through the burning cathedral of the summer," Rhett intoned dramatically as he tightened his grip on the bulky packages in his arms as he stepped through the doorway, closing the door behind him. Setting his burden down on the table beside the staircase he caught himself as he was about to call for a servant, remembering that he had sent them all off for a week to do what they would. Many were visiting their families or simply spending time without duties to attend to. He didn't begrudge them their well-deserved respite from daily labor. Lord knew it was too hot to do much more than laze about the house, the heavy, Southern heat taking a toll on everyone from the horses who plain refused to leave their stables when the sun was high in the clear, cornflower blue skies to the ladies who spent their days in their parlors, even then fanning themselves furiously lest anyone catch sight of a wet patch of perspiration staining the sides of their elaborately layered costumes.
Still, ever the loving husband, he thought smiling wryly, he had foolishly given into Scarlett's pleading and ventured out into the dreadful head to fetch the gown from the dressmaker's she had purchased to wear at the next social gathering, in a deep, rich forest green of all colors regardless of the heat that showed no signs of dissipating anytime soon, as well as a few other "necessities" that she had thoughtfully written out on a list for him. Rhett grinned and shook his head at his own folly. If anyone had ever suggested to him in his younger days that at this age he'd be letting such a hot-tempered, stubborn, and somehow utterly beguiling Southern miss with a streak of wildness in her lead him around like this he'd have laughed in his face before suggesting he get his head examined.
Now where was she? He'd left her in the parlor this morning after ascertaining that she was not funning him and actually expected him to complete the errands on her list. "Scarlett?" he called out. He frowned slightly. She wasn't in the library either. He'd made a thorough search of all the rooms on the first floor of the house excluding the servants' wing and the kitchens where he was highly doubtful he'd ever discover her.
"Scarlett?" he shouted up the stairs as he bounded up them, his long legs quickly carrying him down the hallway where he couldn't find her in children's rooms which she had no reason to be in as they were visiting with his mother, or in her bedroom.
Rhett turned the knob of his bedroom door, letting out a sigh of relief when he found her neck deep in a tub of water, a book held loosely in her hands. She was so engrossed in whatever she was reading, she didn't hear his footsteps, admittedly quiet for a man of his size, as he made his way across the room and pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. She did feel his warm breath against her skin and as though singed by the heat of his lips she bolted up in the tub and swiftly turned around to glare at him, splashing water onto the floor. "Damn and blast! What in the name of all that is holy do you think you're doing?"
He grinned at her unrepentantly, thinking she deserved a lot more for making him trek out of doors in this sort of weather and reflecting on how much she had changed during the course of their marriage, no longer blushing or feigning missish airs when unladylike swearing burst from her saucy, full mouth. With that, he bent down again to kiss her properly only to have her splash bathwater onto his shirt and waistcoat, because thankfully he had already removed his jacket thus saving it from her wrath, and laugh as water dripped from the end of his straight, distinguished nose.
He said nothing, merely rose and wiped his face off with the towel she had lain by the side of the bathtub. "Oh, now look what you've done," she complained. "You've gotten it wet. Now what am I going to use to dry myself off?"
"Rhett! No! No wait! Stop it! Damn it, put me down!" she sputtered as he lifted her into his arms and tossed her onto the bed.
"I'll dry you," he murmured against her neck as she squirmed against him, fighting the languid feeling that had started to flood her limbs. "Rhett, I think I dropped my book in the bath," she argued lamely.
"You didn't."
"But I'm sure I did," she repeatedly stubbornly.
"I'll buy you another," he said, thrusting his hand into her wet hair as he pressed his mouth to hers.
"I liked that one," she said faintly, finding it a little harder to breathe as his lips began to wander down the length of her body.
He wisely declined answering.
"Rhett, really we mustn't. We shouldn't. It's the middle of the day…"
Seeing as her hands were gripping his skull and she was emitting soft moans he didn't pay her objections too much mind.
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872 words. But we're getting a little in the T-M rated zone and the last time I checked the person I'm writing for isn't too fond of that so I'll leave it off here to be finished later (before the deadline, don't worry).
