yousei-san (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
flair) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
metamorphosis2012-07-30 12:23 am
flair) wrote in metamorphosis2012-07-30 12:23 am
Entry tags:
430;
Title: say it ain't so
Characters: F. Mage, M. Mage
Rating: G
152/365.
"If you're not careful, you'll find a knife in your back." He picks through the books, dusting them off one by one and setting them by her; she sends him a look that would freeze him - he almost recommends she go to Kashpa instead of pursing the truth - and shakes her head, pushing away the titles she's already skimmed and judged unhelpful.
"That won't happen." A book slams shut under her deft hands, and she takes the next one. "They wouldn't be able to get me."
"I see you didn't lose your cockiness." She squints her eyes at him, as if trying to discern his real feelings on the matter instead of the disdain he has for her (well-deserved) arrogance, and he shakes his head, sitting down in the chair behind him with a soft thump. "That won't help."
"I have you." He pauses, leaving her reaching for another book and find nothing but the bare table; he pushes the one he hasn't perused towards her and feels a little shock when their hands brush, although she doesn't seem to notice -- if she notices anything aside from the tomes they've collected from all over Arad. She puts that one away - in her bag, a nifty little thing she had bought off of Lorraine -, then pushes him until he complies and scoots in the seat, just enough for her to sit beside him on it. They're close now, but she's been long since bothered by the way his skin's only as warm as the room they're in (a little chilly, this time; libraries always are), and he's become used to her invasion of personal space.
He still flinches a little when she takes his hand and squeezes it, a grin stretching from ear to ear and she's still a young girl, even with the raw power of the world at her fingertips, and he's reminded that they're not that far apart in age when she leans against his chest (he adjusts for her, as he always has) to listen to a heartbeat that's long since stopped.
"You shouldn't say that," He finally manages to spit out, and he prevents her from looking up by setting his chin on top of her head. Her grip tightens in response, but he doesn't care; it's true. "I'm not always going to be around."
"You can't die." She huffs, idly drawing runes and circles on the side of his hand. "Of course you'll --"
"I won't." It's like a promise. One he's not sure he'd want to keep. "Are we finished?"
She nods, but doesn't let him go, and it's with a gentler touch than he would've liked to use that he settles her into the chair as he leaves, his hand slipping out of hers with a little tug.
Characters: F. Mage, M. Mage
Rating: G
152/365.
"If you're not careful, you'll find a knife in your back." He picks through the books, dusting them off one by one and setting them by her; she sends him a look that would freeze him - he almost recommends she go to Kashpa instead of pursing the truth - and shakes her head, pushing away the titles she's already skimmed and judged unhelpful.
"That won't happen." A book slams shut under her deft hands, and she takes the next one. "They wouldn't be able to get me."
"I see you didn't lose your cockiness." She squints her eyes at him, as if trying to discern his real feelings on the matter instead of the disdain he has for her (well-deserved) arrogance, and he shakes his head, sitting down in the chair behind him with a soft thump. "That won't help."
"I have you." He pauses, leaving her reaching for another book and find nothing but the bare table; he pushes the one he hasn't perused towards her and feels a little shock when their hands brush, although she doesn't seem to notice -- if she notices anything aside from the tomes they've collected from all over Arad. She puts that one away - in her bag, a nifty little thing she had bought off of Lorraine -, then pushes him until he complies and scoots in the seat, just enough for her to sit beside him on it. They're close now, but she's been long since bothered by the way his skin's only as warm as the room they're in (a little chilly, this time; libraries always are), and he's become used to her invasion of personal space.
He still flinches a little when she takes his hand and squeezes it, a grin stretching from ear to ear and she's still a young girl, even with the raw power of the world at her fingertips, and he's reminded that they're not that far apart in age when she leans against his chest (he adjusts for her, as he always has) to listen to a heartbeat that's long since stopped.
"You shouldn't say that," He finally manages to spit out, and he prevents her from looking up by setting his chin on top of her head. Her grip tightens in response, but he doesn't care; it's true. "I'm not always going to be around."
"You can't die." She huffs, idly drawing runes and circles on the side of his hand. "Of course you'll --"
"I won't." It's like a promise. One he's not sure he'd want to keep. "Are we finished?"
She nods, but doesn't let him go, and it's with a gentler touch than he would've liked to use that he settles her into the chair as he leaves, his hand slipping out of hers with a little tug.