uhh...
Wikipedia dictates that one way to break writer's block is "freewriting/mindwriting" where one basically writes whatever comes to...well mind. So I thought about trying this. And I dunno, you guys can glance into the craziness that is in my mind. >-<; All bundled and jumbled up and yeah... Yeah. Splooge...and crack? Stuff...random thoughts. Not at all coherent. I think...
- - -
Shizuru listens to a melody, head tilted, eyes narrowed into such an irritated, almost angry expression that Natsuki has to part her mouth and ask why. Her friend gives no answer, listening to the sound of fingers hitting keys and she grunts, the slightest flush of her cheeks. Natsuki presses a hand to her shoulder, flicks her fingers through tawny hair and presses a kiss to her partner's cheek. She listens to shallow breathing and half-hearted mutters and Shizuru just looks so sullen, so miserable that Natsuki is hard-pressed to laugh, but kisses her nose instead and murmurs.
"Don't force the music.
- - -
Ashe's hands are buried in sand, coated in dried blood and she smells strongly of desert winds and sweat. It makes Penelo's head reel and she clasps one trembling palm to her blonde locks, inhales and revels in strength and scent. The princess's fingers grip through tiny rocks of sand, watches as it slips through her fingers and purses her lips. She's dignified, but more often than not Penelo finds her in that act of ill brooding, of moody demeanor.
But then Ashe catches her staring and it's more her thin lips and set jaw rather than her burning pale eyes that makes her flush and turn. She tells herself she's not afraid of the Dalmascan widow, and she really isn't, but it's that hungry look of power and grim determination that makes her stutter and stumble.
- - -
Chie looks so guilty and so heavy that Aoi thinks it utterly spoils the effect of her uniform. Knights, soldiers, majors, captains or whatever the hell rank she is are supposed to look dashing, bold - anything, but. Except her face is pale and her eyes are weary and she murmurs to her old childhood friend in the dead of night, of burned villages and jailed victims, most innocent. Her eyes, once a lively brown are sunken in, and Aoi wants desperately to comfort her, but can't.
She's mad at the Queen, she's mad at her old friend, but most of all she's mad at the tumultuous feeling of helplessness, of feeling like a caged silverbird, broken and swinging on a plastic ring.
She tells herself again and again that she doesn't hate Chie, that she never could. But the brutal feeling of betrayal, and the memory of a burned village and the cry of corpses, makes her claim ring false.
- - -
Natsuki thinks she ought to be grateful that she isn't in Shizuru's place, but can't find a damn's worth of gratefulness when her friend is standing there, head held high, cheek bruised, and a cut over her eyebrow. She feels a sting, of what she isn't quite sure (pride?) and mumbles darkly to herself. Half-hidden among the crowd, among the throng of villagers crying in outrage ("off with her head!"), she skulks into the shadows. She sets her mouth into a tiny grim line and glares heatedly, swears, bites the inside of her cheek and briefly wonders why she ever pledged allegiance to a country so stupidly blind (blinder than Shizuru, she laughs in irony).
It's then she has the courage, or at least the gall, to draw her sword and rush into the crowd. She isn't aware of the guards or the dogs, nor the alarmed line of faces, all she can see is Shizuru standing there, a rope around her neck and angry tears in her eyes. She leaps onto the wooden stage, curses her lack of grace and cuts the rope, and the guard, in one single swipe. The crowd clambers all around, throwing things and swearing in bloody murder, but she doesn't care.
All she cares for is the glazed look on Shizuru's expression, who twists from her bindings and looks around in utter confusion, bewildered by the muddled yells all around them. Natsuki places a hand on her arm, whispers and hushes, soothes and Shizuru turns to her and her expression is so lost, but relieved that Natsuki smiles, not smirks. And it's the first time she doesn't feel a rift, feels the closeness that was their friendship and revels in it.
And for a moment Natsuki convinces herself that Shizuru can see her, truly see her.
- - -
Behind bars is a feeling that Kairi is all too well familiar with, no matter how much she doesn't want to be. She remembers distinctly that feeling of iron beneath her palms, and the uncharacteristic white room that seems to encompass everything. Being caged is something they're too familiar with, Naminé more so, and that thought makes Kairi's blood boil. She thinks for a moment, as she grips steel until her knuckles turn white, how anyone could ever be cruel enough to cage Naminé.
Naminé with gentle eyes, wide and blue, face round and pale and such a tiny, frail body that Kairi thinks one touch would break her. She thinks for a moment as she recalls that fair hair, that painfully shy and somewhat fearful expression. No one could be this cruel, she decides.
But then the image of Xemnas (and Axel and Saïx and the whole of the Organization) comes to mind and knows otherwise.
- - -
It isn't so much the brightness of Destiny Islands that surprises her as it is the warmth of them. She shudders and rubs pale hands against equally pale arms, feeling exposed to the heat of the glaring sun. She tells herself she only imagines that the sun is white, hot, and glaring at her. Exploiting her.
The sea is endless, everlasting and so incredibly huge that Naminé shrinks from it, too used to white rooms and cold atmospheres. It's warm and there's a strong scent of salt on the wind and she recalls the memory of seasalt ice cream, though she's not entirely sure why. The boys are laughing as they rush toward the open waters and she pushes back the inkling of disappointment.
But all that's forgotten when a hand presses itself against her back, pushes gently and she stumbles in the sand. She turns, bewildered to find Kairi standing there. The redhead's face doesn't look out of place amongst the tropical atmosphere, bright and tanned and cheery, so different than the grim, caged girl back at The World That Never Was. She cocks her head to one side, opens her lips in a toothy grin and Naminé feels a kernel of heat pool behind her breastbone, flushes when she gets an arched brow at her meek disposure.
Kairi doesn't say anything as she leads Naminé down to the shore, sandals making footprints in the sand. She doesn't speak, but Naminé hears the words she wants to say in Kairi's frank, crooked grin.
Don't be afraid.
- - -
Eee. This was incredibly enjoyable. >-<; I realize it was getting rather depressing the more I delved in deeper, so I tried to end it on a happier note. I think I succeeded. Much fun much fun. I am pleased. These...wandering thoughts turned into dribbles and drabbles though, so...yeah I'm happy. ♥
Eee. ShizNat and ChieAoi and hints of Ashe/Penelo and Kairi/Naminé makes this gal incredibly happy.
Bliss.
- - -
Shizuru listens to a melody, head tilted, eyes narrowed into such an irritated, almost angry expression that Natsuki has to part her mouth and ask why. Her friend gives no answer, listening to the sound of fingers hitting keys and she grunts, the slightest flush of her cheeks. Natsuki presses a hand to her shoulder, flicks her fingers through tawny hair and presses a kiss to her partner's cheek. She listens to shallow breathing and half-hearted mutters and Shizuru just looks so sullen, so miserable that Natsuki is hard-pressed to laugh, but kisses her nose instead and murmurs.
"Don't force the music.
- - -
Ashe's hands are buried in sand, coated in dried blood and she smells strongly of desert winds and sweat. It makes Penelo's head reel and she clasps one trembling palm to her blonde locks, inhales and revels in strength and scent. The princess's fingers grip through tiny rocks of sand, watches as it slips through her fingers and purses her lips. She's dignified, but more often than not Penelo finds her in that act of ill brooding, of moody demeanor.
But then Ashe catches her staring and it's more her thin lips and set jaw rather than her burning pale eyes that makes her flush and turn. She tells herself she's not afraid of the Dalmascan widow, and she really isn't, but it's that hungry look of power and grim determination that makes her stutter and stumble.
- - -
Chie looks so guilty and so heavy that Aoi thinks it utterly spoils the effect of her uniform. Knights, soldiers, majors, captains or whatever the hell rank she is are supposed to look dashing, bold - anything, but. Except her face is pale and her eyes are weary and she murmurs to her old childhood friend in the dead of night, of burned villages and jailed victims, most innocent. Her eyes, once a lively brown are sunken in, and Aoi wants desperately to comfort her, but can't.
She's mad at the Queen, she's mad at her old friend, but most of all she's mad at the tumultuous feeling of helplessness, of feeling like a caged silverbird, broken and swinging on a plastic ring.
She tells herself again and again that she doesn't hate Chie, that she never could. But the brutal feeling of betrayal, and the memory of a burned village and the cry of corpses, makes her claim ring false.
- - -
Natsuki thinks she ought to be grateful that she isn't in Shizuru's place, but can't find a damn's worth of gratefulness when her friend is standing there, head held high, cheek bruised, and a cut over her eyebrow. She feels a sting, of what she isn't quite sure (pride?) and mumbles darkly to herself. Half-hidden among the crowd, among the throng of villagers crying in outrage ("off with her head!"), she skulks into the shadows. She sets her mouth into a tiny grim line and glares heatedly, swears, bites the inside of her cheek and briefly wonders why she ever pledged allegiance to a country so stupidly blind (blinder than Shizuru, she laughs in irony).
It's then she has the courage, or at least the gall, to draw her sword and rush into the crowd. She isn't aware of the guards or the dogs, nor the alarmed line of faces, all she can see is Shizuru standing there, a rope around her neck and angry tears in her eyes. She leaps onto the wooden stage, curses her lack of grace and cuts the rope, and the guard, in one single swipe. The crowd clambers all around, throwing things and swearing in bloody murder, but she doesn't care.
All she cares for is the glazed look on Shizuru's expression, who twists from her bindings and looks around in utter confusion, bewildered by the muddled yells all around them. Natsuki places a hand on her arm, whispers and hushes, soothes and Shizuru turns to her and her expression is so lost, but relieved that Natsuki smiles, not smirks. And it's the first time she doesn't feel a rift, feels the closeness that was their friendship and revels in it.
And for a moment Natsuki convinces herself that Shizuru can see her, truly see her.
- - -
Behind bars is a feeling that Kairi is all too well familiar with, no matter how much she doesn't want to be. She remembers distinctly that feeling of iron beneath her palms, and the uncharacteristic white room that seems to encompass everything. Being caged is something they're too familiar with, Naminé more so, and that thought makes Kairi's blood boil. She thinks for a moment, as she grips steel until her knuckles turn white, how anyone could ever be cruel enough to cage Naminé.
Naminé with gentle eyes, wide and blue, face round and pale and such a tiny, frail body that Kairi thinks one touch would break her. She thinks for a moment as she recalls that fair hair, that painfully shy and somewhat fearful expression. No one could be this cruel, she decides.
But then the image of Xemnas (and Axel and Saïx and the whole of the Organization) comes to mind and knows otherwise.
- - -
It isn't so much the brightness of Destiny Islands that surprises her as it is the warmth of them. She shudders and rubs pale hands against equally pale arms, feeling exposed to the heat of the glaring sun. She tells herself she only imagines that the sun is white, hot, and glaring at her. Exploiting her.
The sea is endless, everlasting and so incredibly huge that Naminé shrinks from it, too used to white rooms and cold atmospheres. It's warm and there's a strong scent of salt on the wind and she recalls the memory of seasalt ice cream, though she's not entirely sure why. The boys are laughing as they rush toward the open waters and she pushes back the inkling of disappointment.
But all that's forgotten when a hand presses itself against her back, pushes gently and she stumbles in the sand. She turns, bewildered to find Kairi standing there. The redhead's face doesn't look out of place amongst the tropical atmosphere, bright and tanned and cheery, so different than the grim, caged girl back at The World That Never Was. She cocks her head to one side, opens her lips in a toothy grin and Naminé feels a kernel of heat pool behind her breastbone, flushes when she gets an arched brow at her meek disposure.
Kairi doesn't say anything as she leads Naminé down to the shore, sandals making footprints in the sand. She doesn't speak, but Naminé hears the words she wants to say in Kairi's frank, crooked grin.
Don't be afraid.
- - -
Eee. This was incredibly enjoyable. >-<; I realize it was getting rather depressing the more I delved in deeper, so I tried to end it on a happier note. I think I succeeded. Much fun much fun. I am pleased. These...wandering thoughts turned into dribbles and drabbles though, so...yeah I'm happy. ♥
Eee. ShizNat and ChieAoi and hints of Ashe/Penelo and Kairi/Naminé makes this gal incredibly happy.
Bliss.