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Entry tags:
TDIR: Names
Fandom: The Dark Is Rising
Pairing: None
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Summary: A new dog for Bran. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
lemon_advent.
It wasn't Cafall.
It was completely different to Cafall in every single way -- and yet when the dog looked up at him, Bran got the exact same feeling as he'd got when Cafall first looked up at him. He went down on his knees to let the pup jump up at him, into his lap, paws against his chest. He barely paid attention to the amused rumble of John Rowlands' voice, the soft surprise in his father's.
"Hello there," he said, to the dog, as it sniffed him, tail wagging. "My name's Bran. What's yours?"
The dog barked. Bran leaned closer, as if to hear, and grinned at the pup, fondling its floppy ears. John Rowlands laughed a little at the two of them. "I was about to tell you that this was your pup, Bran, if you wanted her. But I see you do."
"Mine?" Bran looked up, quickly, startling the pup who barked again, a bark with a bit of a whine in it, the bark of a young pup who expects to be the center of attention. Absent-mindedly, Bran kept petting it, letting it lick at his hand. "You're... giving me a dog?"
"It's Christmas," John said, with a shrug. He glanced up at Owen. "I did promise one of the pups to Idris, as I'm sure you know, but it turns out he doesn't want it."
"It'll have to be a working dog," Owen began, face falling into its usual worried expression, but Bran wasn't listening anymore.
"Do you hear that, pup?" he said, softly. "You're mine. I guess I have to think of a name for you."
The pup jumped up at him again, a little clumsy -- but in that clumsiness Bran saw again the promise of sleek quickness, of a dog that would always be at his side. He gathered the pup up into his arms, holding her close.
"How about Brynn?" he said, consideringly. The pup licked his face.
Pairing: None
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Summary: A new dog for Bran. For
lemon_advent.It wasn't Cafall.
It was completely different to Cafall in every single way -- and yet when the dog looked up at him, Bran got the exact same feeling as he'd got when Cafall first looked up at him. He went down on his knees to let the pup jump up at him, into his lap, paws against his chest. He barely paid attention to the amused rumble of John Rowlands' voice, the soft surprise in his father's.
"Hello there," he said, to the dog, as it sniffed him, tail wagging. "My name's Bran. What's yours?"
The dog barked. Bran leaned closer, as if to hear, and grinned at the pup, fondling its floppy ears. John Rowlands laughed a little at the two of them. "I was about to tell you that this was your pup, Bran, if you wanted her. But I see you do."
"Mine?" Bran looked up, quickly, startling the pup who barked again, a bark with a bit of a whine in it, the bark of a young pup who expects to be the center of attention. Absent-mindedly, Bran kept petting it, letting it lick at his hand. "You're... giving me a dog?"
"It's Christmas," John said, with a shrug. He glanced up at Owen. "I did promise one of the pups to Idris, as I'm sure you know, but it turns out he doesn't want it."
"It'll have to be a working dog," Owen began, face falling into its usual worried expression, but Bran wasn't listening anymore.
"Do you hear that, pup?" he said, softly. "You're mine. I guess I have to think of a name for you."
The pup jumped up at him again, a little clumsy -- but in that clumsiness Bran saw again the promise of sleek quickness, of a dog that would always be at his side. He gathered the pup up into his arms, holding her close.
"How about Brynn?" he said, consideringly. The pup licked his face.