31_days | dynasty warriors 5 | knowing ranks
July 25: Anarchy at its most orderly
dynasty warriors 5, gan ning/sun shang xiang
written a while ago, actually. still writing, but this is the only thing I've liked in weeks.
was just trying to get a hold of the characters.
Knowing Ranks
Shang Xiang's throat instinctively swallowed, bumping against the steel of his blade. She wasn't frightened, only momentarily stunned by the proximity of all things around her before it sank in-- the dull edge of the sword pressed to her pale throat, the blade of it stuck into the wall he'd pushed her into. Him. Gan Ning was what had caught her off guard the most. He was pressed up against her back. He held his sword with his right hand and trapped her other side with his left arm. It was wrapped around her waist, and his large hand rested on her stomach. She only realized this after dumbly counting five hot points-- his fiery, calloused fingertips pressed and pulsing on her skin. But the places where they didn't touch, where his presence was just barely noticable, those were the areas that tingled most. Like his exhales. They were not quite as strenuous as her own, but they were a constant, a warmth at the back of her nape. It was oddly comforting how close he was, how solid, firm, and real he felt against her.
"Pinned ya," he drawled, and she didn't have to turn. The smirk was clear in his voice.
Shang Xiang laughed... then kicked her left leg out, to the side, trying to maneuver something up off the ground and get free. She wanted to win, after all. But Gan Ning's leg followed just as quickly and soon lay flush against the outside of hers, blocking her path to one of her chakrams.
He turned his head away from the weapon, and now his breath blew in her ear. Tauntingly, he murmured, "Won't work."
"Do you have to be so smug about it?" she chided, and didn't know which urge she was fighting: to laugh or shiver. She felt him shrug, the taut muscles of his arm slightly rubbing up her side with the movement.
"There another way to be about it?" Again, that smirk.
"Yes," she began, very primly, and he made a noise in the back of his throat. "Yeah, yeah. I'm a royal--"
"--pain in my ass."
"--and. If I'd let you start you'd go on this huge tirade about how all us royals don't deserve any respect and all this hooplah. But if you were a decent kind of man capable of decent manners, in particular situations, like say this one, you'd be kind enough to annouce a victory with dignity. You'd perhaps say 'I feel grateful to have sparred with you, you are a worthy opponent' or 'I am honored to have had this session with you, my lady.' Something along those lines. And then we could bow, and be respectful, and I could return the compliments. Though mine would be different, because they'd be genuine."
"...oh yeah."
"Yes." She glanced sideways at him.
"Oh yeah?" His teeth were like razors with that grin. "Like what?"
"Like... Oh, pfft. Like I should waste my breath," she scoffed, and pushed from the wall, managing to disrupt his balance and force him away just enough so that she could turn. But he did not budge any more than that. He didn't even bother to let go of his sword, and as soon as she was facing him he became closer against her than before, if that was even possible. She was confused to find herself staring at his collarbone and firm, tan pectorals. She blinked, feeling so close she could almost taste the sweat on his skin. Her breath quickened.
"What little you have left of it." His voice was a low, husky rumble. "Tell me. What would you say, my lady?" And here she could feel the tip of his nose nudging her bangs, and his lips were at her brow, and his hands.. she didn't know where those were. She could only think that it shouldn't be possible to be so close. He shouldn't be this close. She shouldn't be liking that he was this close.
But she did.
dynasty warriors 5, gan ning/sun shang xiang
written a while ago, actually. still writing, but this is the only thing I've liked in weeks.
was just trying to get a hold of the characters.
Knowing Ranks
Shang Xiang's throat instinctively swallowed, bumping against the steel of his blade. She wasn't frightened, only momentarily stunned by the proximity of all things around her before it sank in-- the dull edge of the sword pressed to her pale throat, the blade of it stuck into the wall he'd pushed her into. Him. Gan Ning was what had caught her off guard the most. He was pressed up against her back. He held his sword with his right hand and trapped her other side with his left arm. It was wrapped around her waist, and his large hand rested on her stomach. She only realized this after dumbly counting five hot points-- his fiery, calloused fingertips pressed and pulsing on her skin. But the places where they didn't touch, where his presence was just barely noticable, those were the areas that tingled most. Like his exhales. They were not quite as strenuous as her own, but they were a constant, a warmth at the back of her nape. It was oddly comforting how close he was, how solid, firm, and real he felt against her.
"Pinned ya," he drawled, and she didn't have to turn. The smirk was clear in his voice.
Shang Xiang laughed... then kicked her left leg out, to the side, trying to maneuver something up off the ground and get free. She wanted to win, after all. But Gan Ning's leg followed just as quickly and soon lay flush against the outside of hers, blocking her path to one of her chakrams.
He turned his head away from the weapon, and now his breath blew in her ear. Tauntingly, he murmured, "Won't work."
"Do you have to be so smug about it?" she chided, and didn't know which urge she was fighting: to laugh or shiver. She felt him shrug, the taut muscles of his arm slightly rubbing up her side with the movement.
"There another way to be about it?" Again, that smirk.
"Yes," she began, very primly, and he made a noise in the back of his throat. "Yeah, yeah. I'm a royal--"
"--pain in my ass."
"--and. If I'd let you start you'd go on this huge tirade about how all us royals don't deserve any respect and all this hooplah. But if you were a decent kind of man capable of decent manners, in particular situations, like say this one, you'd be kind enough to annouce a victory with dignity. You'd perhaps say 'I feel grateful to have sparred with you, you are a worthy opponent' or 'I am honored to have had this session with you, my lady.' Something along those lines. And then we could bow, and be respectful, and I could return the compliments. Though mine would be different, because they'd be genuine."
"...oh yeah."
"Yes." She glanced sideways at him.
"Oh yeah?" His teeth were like razors with that grin. "Like what?"
"Like... Oh, pfft. Like I should waste my breath," she scoffed, and pushed from the wall, managing to disrupt his balance and force him away just enough so that she could turn. But he did not budge any more than that. He didn't even bother to let go of his sword, and as soon as she was facing him he became closer against her than before, if that was even possible. She was confused to find herself staring at his collarbone and firm, tan pectorals. She blinked, feeling so close she could almost taste the sweat on his skin. Her breath quickened.
"What little you have left of it." His voice was a low, husky rumble. "Tell me. What would you say, my lady?" And here she could feel the tip of his nose nudging her bangs, and his lips were at her brow, and his hands.. she didn't know where those were. She could only think that it shouldn't be possible to be so close. He shouldn't be this close. She shouldn't be liking that he was this close.
But she did.