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)
metamorphosis2012-08-09 07:51 pm
flair) wrote in metamorphosis2012-08-09 07:51 pm
Entry tags:
433;
Title: warlock's song
Characters: F. Mage, M. Mage
Rating: G
155/365.
One night, she slips into his room and sits on the edge of his bed. It’s not like he’s asleep (he doesn’t do much of that, these days) so small dip his mattress takes doesn’t bother him. The way she stares at him (firm, determined, and with a bottomless curiousity) does, however.
“What?”
She doesn’t jump, like she would’ve before; she just slides to the side and onto his legs, stretching until her fingertips reach the other end of the book. He frowns at her and pushes her slender limbs off his reading material with a less than rougher touch than he’d like to admit. It isn’t gentle, but it isn’t a shove.
Maybe he’s gone soft.
“I want to learn the Warlock’s song. Can you sing it for me?”
“Why?”
“I want to sing it!”
He sighs (a teacher to his overeager student; calm and patient, but irritated) and returns his attention to his book, turning the page and letting out a small growl when her hands cover the words again.
“Please?”
“You don’t even have an Abyss for it to resonate with.”
“I know.”
She closes his book abruptly and sets it aside, scooting onto his outstretched legs and laying her hands on his thighs. He stares at her, vexation make its presence known in the off-beat taps of his half-clenched fist on the bed — although she doesn’t look even the littlest bit ashamed of what she’s doing.
“Why would you want to learn something you can’t use?”
“To understand.”
It’s simple— too simple, maybe, but she doesn’t try to rectify her words, and he doesn’t try to pry a more elaborate answer out of her. He isn’t eternally nosy, unlike her, although he feels wonder stir in the tips of his toes and her reasoning. She leans forward, heavy on his thighs, and gives him her best smile.
He wonders, briefly, if he’ll regret agreeing to teach her.
(He doesn’t; attempting to hear her capture the same low notes he had sung to Sharan on the day of his awakening is something to be experienced, as well as the red stain on her cheeks when he finally gives in and helps her vocally, their voices rising together; it’s almost harmonic, but hers is too high and his less than musically inclined.
He’s always been better at magic anyway.)
Characters: F. Mage, M. Mage
Rating: G
155/365.
One night, she slips into his room and sits on the edge of his bed. It’s not like he’s asleep (he doesn’t do much of that, these days) so small dip his mattress takes doesn’t bother him. The way she stares at him (firm, determined, and with a bottomless curiousity) does, however.
“What?”
She doesn’t jump, like she would’ve before; she just slides to the side and onto his legs, stretching until her fingertips reach the other end of the book. He frowns at her and pushes her slender limbs off his reading material with a less than rougher touch than he’d like to admit. It isn’t gentle, but it isn’t a shove.
Maybe he’s gone soft.
“I want to learn the Warlock’s song. Can you sing it for me?”
“Why?”
“I want to sing it!”
He sighs (a teacher to his overeager student; calm and patient, but irritated) and returns his attention to his book, turning the page and letting out a small growl when her hands cover the words again.
“Please?”
“You don’t even have an Abyss for it to resonate with.”
“I know.”
She closes his book abruptly and sets it aside, scooting onto his outstretched legs and laying her hands on his thighs. He stares at her, vexation make its presence known in the off-beat taps of his half-clenched fist on the bed — although she doesn’t look even the littlest bit ashamed of what she’s doing.
“Why would you want to learn something you can’t use?”
“To understand.”
It’s simple— too simple, maybe, but she doesn’t try to rectify her words, and he doesn’t try to pry a more elaborate answer out of her. He isn’t eternally nosy, unlike her, although he feels wonder stir in the tips of his toes and her reasoning. She leans forward, heavy on his thighs, and gives him her best smile.
He wonders, briefly, if he’ll regret agreeing to teach her.
(He doesn’t; attempting to hear her capture the same low notes he had sung to Sharan on the day of his awakening is something to be experienced, as well as the red stain on her cheeks when he finally gives in and helps her vocally, their voices rising together; it’s almost harmonic, but hers is too high and his less than musically inclined.
He’s always been better at magic anyway.)