[FIC] to seal what already is
A/n: I am so terribly late, but meh~ this drabble is for Rizu's~ Z(o^v^)o I'm mostly editing out the others because I don't think they're that good yet, but this one.... uh, I didn't edit out anymore because God, it hurt both my eyes and my brain. BUT. I think it wrote itself pretty well~ it's been a long time since I wrote Prideshipping after all, and even then I clung to Mahaado as much as I could. I'M NOT EVEN SURE IF I KEPT THEM IN CHARACTER, but meh~ I hope you like this, Rizu! A Happy Holidays!
FEEL FREE TO SKEWER ME IF I FAILED YOU.
Rating : PG13
Fandom : Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters
Pairing : Prideshipping
Prompt : Christmas
Disclaimer : YGO! belongs to Kazuki Takahashi. Had I owned it, the entire thing would have ended with Duel Monsters. Seriously.
Warnings : long sentences, weird imagery, I AM A FAILURE I KNOW, and uh, ....shounen-ai?
It’s the little things they notice and the bigger things that others do not. The force of the gusts is painful as they bare themselves against the wind, staring each other down from opposite sides. It is like feeling the ungraspable so very close by when blues break within violets and violets drown in blues. This is the color of their sky: grey and dark with myriads of cool hues cascading over them like clouds, blanketing them in a fury of raw emotions.
It is always like this-the holidays make no difference. Their lives are embroiled in a never-ceasing tug of war where dreams and ambitions all mix together with the force of a typhoon, encumbering everything and shredding everything with a sharpness like knives and with promises only gods can provide.
How fitting of Kaiba to have them, just the two of them in the end as always, celebrate like this, because, as it stands, while it holds no meaning for others, for them it is everything.
Each encounter is special, unique no matter how many times they have fought. The reasons are similar as to that of what a soldier would possess for fighting with his own style in a battlefield: the mark of a warrior. It is the badge of a person’s power, and the acknowledgement given to the prestige of greatness.
These are selfish thoughts that spawn selfish desires with their super egocentric loots. It ruins Christmas, a dim voice claims, to bear such conceit during a time of giving and love and sacrifice.
But of course, they pay little attention to that dim little voice, because as they shuffle their decks and call upon their trusted monsters, it is only each other that they see. It is the weight of each decision that chains them down, the struggle of ideals making everything else fade away into oblivion. On the stadium where the cutting wind beats against them, it is as if they are rivaling emperors of the cosmos-two pharaohs waging war, besetting each other with the magnificence of their own empires, built by splattered blood and dripping sweat, by trampled souls and broken dreams and the persistence of an unwavering intensity.
This is what makes their Christmas beautiful, because this fight, this one fight during the times of the season, burns and razes down the worlds between them, enveloping them in this tremendous heat that suffocates them yet pushes them forward, and the fire running through their bodies and pulsing in their vines tear down whatever pretences they have and reveal to each other who they truly are.
In this one fight, not only do they see only each other, but the only thing they recognize, they acknowledge-what their persons revolve around is each other. It is only for that one moment, one instance that they reach out and touch what they so desire through the play by play actions of their servants, the attacks of their soldiers and the defenses of their shields even though these are what eventually destroy the fortresses they hide within.
It is during this that they truly see each other smile, wherein no longer is the ungraspable merely close by, but is there in their hands, cradled as preciously as their dreams and ambitions-their pride laid before the other as though a humble offering, a promise of greatness and the most cherished gift of all.
For this reason, and this alone does Yami merely smile when Anzu calls upon his lack of gift from Kaiba Seto, when all of them had been given one however begrudgingly and pressed by his little brother. He does not pacify her, does not join her in her tirade, because he already has received his in that stadium where even nature stands against him, but where he can remain standing proud and victorious like the Pharaoh he is.
He merely thinks of it: that one moment forever imprinted in his mind: a battlefield with the ruins of their empires and the desecration of their fortresses despite how he rises as the winner still and Kaiba, his rival, his enemy, his friend took his hand in his own and placed his lips not on his palm or his wrist, not on any breadth of his skin, but on the cards of his deck.
It made even the favorite child of the shadows tremble, to blush and to stammer more than what a kiss would have done as proven when it soon followed as though a gesture of reciprocation. His heart did not soar and neither did his soul leap with joy, but the colors of blue merely consumed violets as his own eyes had so long ago done, entrancing and chaining that man to him now. That one fight, that one conclusion and that one kiss to the people of his forgotten empire’s splendor sealed it all.
It is no act of friends nor is it an action done between duelists. It is the lowering of pride which is required to acknowledge what is greater. Reverence, after all, is the most beautiful and highest form of love.
~ finite
A/n: I WILL BE DONE WITH THE OTHERS BY JANUARY I HOPE. MERELY FINISHING MATTEOxVIA AND EDITING OUT MATTEOxANGE. They did not turn out as well as I hoped they would and uh.... right. *slow worker*
....*is a procrastinator, actually.*
FEEL FREE TO SKEWER ME IF I FAILED YOU.
Rating : PG13
Fandom : Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters
Pairing : Prideshipping
Prompt : Christmas
Disclaimer : YGO! belongs to Kazuki Takahashi. Had I owned it, the entire thing would have ended with Duel Monsters. Seriously.
Warnings : long sentences, weird imagery, I AM A FAILURE I KNOW, and uh, ....shounen-ai?
It’s the little things they notice and the bigger things that others do not. The force of the gusts is painful as they bare themselves against the wind, staring each other down from opposite sides. It is like feeling the ungraspable so very close by when blues break within violets and violets drown in blues. This is the color of their sky: grey and dark with myriads of cool hues cascading over them like clouds, blanketing them in a fury of raw emotions.
It is always like this-the holidays make no difference. Their lives are embroiled in a never-ceasing tug of war where dreams and ambitions all mix together with the force of a typhoon, encumbering everything and shredding everything with a sharpness like knives and with promises only gods can provide.
How fitting of Kaiba to have them, just the two of them in the end as always, celebrate like this, because, as it stands, while it holds no meaning for others, for them it is everything.
Each encounter is special, unique no matter how many times they have fought. The reasons are similar as to that of what a soldier would possess for fighting with his own style in a battlefield: the mark of a warrior. It is the badge of a person’s power, and the acknowledgement given to the prestige of greatness.
These are selfish thoughts that spawn selfish desires with their super egocentric loots. It ruins Christmas, a dim voice claims, to bear such conceit during a time of giving and love and sacrifice.
But of course, they pay little attention to that dim little voice, because as they shuffle their decks and call upon their trusted monsters, it is only each other that they see. It is the weight of each decision that chains them down, the struggle of ideals making everything else fade away into oblivion. On the stadium where the cutting wind beats against them, it is as if they are rivaling emperors of the cosmos-two pharaohs waging war, besetting each other with the magnificence of their own empires, built by splattered blood and dripping sweat, by trampled souls and broken dreams and the persistence of an unwavering intensity.
This is what makes their Christmas beautiful, because this fight, this one fight during the times of the season, burns and razes down the worlds between them, enveloping them in this tremendous heat that suffocates them yet pushes them forward, and the fire running through their bodies and pulsing in their vines tear down whatever pretences they have and reveal to each other who they truly are.
In this one fight, not only do they see only each other, but the only thing they recognize, they acknowledge-what their persons revolve around is each other. It is only for that one moment, one instance that they reach out and touch what they so desire through the play by play actions of their servants, the attacks of their soldiers and the defenses of their shields even though these are what eventually destroy the fortresses they hide within.
It is during this that they truly see each other smile, wherein no longer is the ungraspable merely close by, but is there in their hands, cradled as preciously as their dreams and ambitions-their pride laid before the other as though a humble offering, a promise of greatness and the most cherished gift of all.
For this reason, and this alone does Yami merely smile when Anzu calls upon his lack of gift from Kaiba Seto, when all of them had been given one however begrudgingly and pressed by his little brother. He does not pacify her, does not join her in her tirade, because he already has received his in that stadium where even nature stands against him, but where he can remain standing proud and victorious like the Pharaoh he is.
He merely thinks of it: that one moment forever imprinted in his mind: a battlefield with the ruins of their empires and the desecration of their fortresses despite how he rises as the winner still and Kaiba, his rival, his enemy, his friend took his hand in his own and placed his lips not on his palm or his wrist, not on any breadth of his skin, but on the cards of his deck.
It made even the favorite child of the shadows tremble, to blush and to stammer more than what a kiss would have done as proven when it soon followed as though a gesture of reciprocation. His heart did not soar and neither did his soul leap with joy, but the colors of blue merely consumed violets as his own eyes had so long ago done, entrancing and chaining that man to him now. That one fight, that one conclusion and that one kiss to the people of his forgotten empire’s splendor sealed it all.
It is no act of friends nor is it an action done between duelists. It is the lowering of pride which is required to acknowledge what is greater. Reverence, after all, is the most beautiful and highest form of love.
~ finite
A/n: I WILL BE DONE WITH THE OTHERS BY JANUARY I HOPE. MERELY FINISHING MATTEOxVIA AND EDITING OUT MATTEOxANGE. They did not turn out as well as I hoped they would and uh.... right. *slow worker*
....*is a procrastinator, actually.*