Fan Fiction Dump 1
Let's see...I think some of these are already posted on my fanfiction account...I think. I'm not entirely sure about every single one; I think the NejiTen one is a repeat, but the Tayuya one is the one I took down from fanfiction.net. Mostly, though, everything that's being posted here is stuff that I'm not posting on fanfiction because I either feel that it's out of character, or too far into my own little made up universe and hasn't had enough explanation. Or it's just the stuff that I'm hesitant posting elsewhere.
Title: Waiting
Series: Naruto
Characters/Pairing: NejixTenten
Rating: PG
Word Count: 541
She always sat next to him, several feet away, never touching. He would always stare out into the distance, his attention determinedly not focused on her. There were never words, there were never actions. She would simply sit next to him, unmoving, for an hour or until someone came for one of them or the other.
Neji wasn't the type to show weakness. He wasn't the type of person who showed when they were happy or sad. Anger came more easily for him, and after so many years Tenten had begun to understand his different habits, had begun to understand when he needed to be alone and when he needed someone by his side.
That was why she sat by his side, never touching, never talking.
When he was upset, he would leave all of them and go sit by himself, somewhere far out it the training fields, and he would stare out into the woods, byakugan activated. And Tenten would come and find him and seat herself down beside him. She would watch him as he watched the wilderness, but she never did anything more. She would simply be there for him, in the unlikely chance that he wanted to talk, or needed to be touched.
He never was able to open up to her, even after years of working together.
If asked, Tenten would never admit that she had feelings for him. Ino had asked her once and Tenten had stared at the blond for a moment, until the girl shrugged and turned the conversation to something else. But Ino was one of the few who noticed how Tenten acted around Neji, or when Neji was mention. The girl-no, the woman-was now a spy, and very well versed at reading body language. Tenten knew that Ino was able to see how she tensed ever so slightly when Neji was close to her, or how her eyes would dart up whenever his name was mentioned. But Ino never said anything after Tenten's first refusal to speak. She was one of the few who knew how much the white eyed boy meant to her.
Lee didn't know-or maybe he did, though he never said anything. Gai-sensei knew, and it seemed as though he understood. Behind all of his flowery words and his elaborate speeches, Gai knew something of what Tenten felt, and he knew that it wasn't something to be talked about.
If Neji knew, he didn't show it. But Tenten couldn't understand it if he didn't know.
She sat by his side whenever she knew that he needed her. If her presence could help him, then she would gladly sit beside him for the rest of her life.
Neji. I'm here for you, if you ever need me.
She'd told him that once, in one of those rare moments when she opened up to him a little more about her feelings. He had only looked at her, before turning away and resuming training.
It had hurt.
But still, she sat at his side.
Maybe, someday, he would understand just why she sat there, why she did that when she received nothing from it at all. Or, just maybe, he would only understand when she was gone.
Title: Weeping
Series: Naruto
Characters/Pairing: Tayuya, Jiroubou, KimimaroxTayuya
Rating: PG-13 or R. Lots of foul language.
Word Count: 849
Tayuya stood there for a moment, so shocked that she couldn't move. She could only watch as the pale man walked away from her.
You mean nothing to me. I'd kill you without a moments hesitation.
Her jaw trembled once, and then she clamped it shut, not willing to show that weakness. She was not like that, she was not some girl who depended entirely on the approval of a man. That was not her--
And yet his words cut far too deeply. There hadn't even been a drop of emotion behind them.
You mean nothing to me.
It was as though those touches and stolen kisses had meant nothing. As though she had just been some, some tool for him. Something to use, and then dispose of.
Her hand clenched suddenly, and then she fumbled at her waist, clutching at the flute. Touching it brought her a small amount of comfort.
Traveling back to her dimly lit quarters, Tayuya found herself stumbling, tripping so that she had to reach out and grasp at the wall to keep herself upright.
He couldn't have actually meant what he said...
Except she knew that he did. He had never loved her; all of him, mind, body, soul, was given to Orochimaru. He loved Orochimaru, though she didn't think that he wanted him in any sexual way. But there wasn't any room in Kimimaro's life for a pink haired, foul-mouthed woman. She was a fool-no, she was fucking idiot-for thinking that he might have possibly felt something for her.
She found her door, fumbling with the knob, trying desperately to open it. She didn't want anyone to see her, and she didn't want to fall apart. She wouldn't fall apart. But the damn, fucking door wasn't opening!
“God fucking dammit!” She kicked at the door violently, sending a flash of pain through her foot. “Dammit, you piece of shit door! Open up! Fuck, open!” She twisted the handle again, pushing all her weight onto it. It opened and she lost her balance, tripping forward and sprawling onto the cold stone floor.
This wasn't her. This shouldn't affect her at all. Kimimaro didn't mean anything to her, he didn't! He was just a bastard, a piece of shit, and she didn't need him.
“Tayuya?”
Someone was blocking the light from the doorway. Tayuya's eyes widened, and she scrambled to pull herself into a sitting position. “Get the fuck out of my room, Jiroubou!”
For once, the sound ninja didn't tell her off for cursing. He simply took a step past the threshold. “Are you all right?”
“Do I look all right? Dumb ass, I'm fine.” She crossed her arms over her chest, turning her face away from him. “And get the hell out, you shit.”
Jiroubou crouched down beside her, reaching out and touching her cheek. Tayuya flinched away from the contact. “You're crying.”
She ground her teeth together. Fucking...dammit, she wasn't crying. She wasn't crying over that fucking, cock sucking bastard! “I'm not.” But her jaw continued to tremble, and she found that she was shaking. Dimly, she heard the door close. “What are you doing?”
“Tell me what's wrong.”
“Stop prying. I don't want to talk about it.” She hugged herself tighter. Stupid Jiroubou. Why couldn't he just leave her alone? It wasn't as though he would actually care to listen, anyway. “It doesn't concern you, so get lost.”
There was a moment of silence, and Tayuya found that it was getting harder and harder to control her tears. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to make them stop.
I'd kill you without a moments hesitation.
You mean nothing to me.
All you're good for is--
She cut the thoughts off there. She didn't want to remember.
She felt something touch her shoulders and she jumped. “Don't you fucking touch me, Jiroubou.” But her voice was cracking now, even as she fought to push herself away. “Get the fuck away!” She twisted her upper body, flailing with her arms. “Stop it!”
The orange haired man pulled her tight against him. “You can cry if you want,” she heard him say, but it didn't register in her mind, because she was fighting to get away from him, hitting and scratching at his back.
“Let me go! Let me go! Let me go, goddammit! F-fuck you, you damn bastard! God-d-damm-it...” Her voice broke off and she clung to him as her sobbing increased. Tayuya buried her head in Jiroubou's chest, now clutching at the back of his shirt as though it was the only way to keep her from slipping away into a complete breakdown.
She never told him what was wrong, simply cried into his shirt until it was soaked with tears. He didn't let her go until she had cried herself to sleep, and then he set her on her bed, leaving her there.
She never knew that she had torn shallow gashes into his back, and he never told her. They never mentioned what had happened.
Maybe it was better that way.
Title: Understand
Series: Naruto
Characters/Pairing: IbikixAnko
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1029
No one quite understands them. Either of them, and no one really knows how to approach them. Both are covered in scars, both physical and emotional, and those scars are what scare everyone else away. Each has a different way to deal with those frightened glances, those hushed whispers. Ibiki, though he would love nothing more than to shove them up against a wall and slit their throats, simply ignores them, or passes by with a half smile that throws most people into confusion. Anko, who has less self control (or, at least, that is what she wants others to think), is more prone to spontaneous acts, whether they simply be playful or incredibly deadly. Both shinobi are volatile, liable to be set off when pushed too far-and no one is every quite sure how far is too far-and yet they are both incredibly fragile.
Anko hates the stares, she hates the whispers. When she was younger, before she learned how to only show those emotions that she wanted to, days would come when she would run from a room in tears. Eventually, however, she learned to hide her weakness. She stopped crying. Eventually, only a cheerful-though slightly sadistic-mask remained in place, hiding all of her inner thoughts and feelings.
Ibiki, though, breaks. He takes as much stress as he can, and when no more can be pile on him, he falls apart. Breaks down. It happens rarely, but when it does there are very few people who can control him. One time, long ago, his younger brother's voice could help, but those days are gone. Sedatives once worked the best, but even those have lost their effectiveness.
Perhaps their fragility is the reason why their relationship sustains. Anko holds him when he breaks, calms him and gives him an anchor. Ibiki is simply there for Anko when the stares and whispers become too much to handle. She's learned not to touch his scars, and he's learned not to touch hers.
They do not joke about love. There is no love between them, simply need, want, lust. Anko knows that she could die any day, and he knows that he could as well. They just find something in one another, a comfort that others cannot, or do not, give them. But the way that Anko can relax in his arms and let herself fall asleep against his chest, the way that Ibiki can let down all his guards and trust her to understand, or at least to accept, creates an illusion that someone looking in might call love.
Anko was asked once if she loved Ibiki. She laughed.
Shinobi do not love.
There are great and elaborate speeches that leaders of Konoha would give, on comradeship and friendship. But in the end, there can only be the trust. Love, whatever it is, and emotional attachment are not things for a shinobi. They only bring pain.
Ibiki watched Kakashi fall apart after the deaths of the Yondaime and Rin. He saw the brilliant man fall apart at the seams, nearly lose himself. He saw him sew himself back together and try to renew his life. Sometimes, in those odd moments when Ibiki sees the jounin with his students, he thinks that, maybe, Kakashi has found some happiness.
He's seen enough people break and lose themselves in his life. He knows how the mind works, but sometimes, he builds up enough logic around him that he fools himself. And any real feelings that he might possibly have for Anko are pushed away, swept under a rug and buried in the back of his mind.
On dark nights, when the rain slicks the roofs and streets of Konoha, when the lights die away and he feels smaller and colder than normal, he is able to hide himself in Anko. And, in some strange way, she is able to hold him and save him.
She has hidden rooms of her own, memories locked away, things that she will never tell him. She's been hurt deeply, and she no longer trusts easily. Ibiki once asked Izumo what she was like before she became Orochimaru's student. Her former teammate had taken a moment to answer.
She smiled more.
When Anko smiles now, it isn't a real smile. The villagers of Konoha haven't seen a real smile since she was fourteen, since the year that Orochimaru discarded her. Because when she was fourteen, the rumors and the whispers and the stares began. No one knew what her relationship with the sannin was, but many suspected that it was something more than that of a teacher and his student.
She cried for days after he left. Only the Sandaime ever knew what had happened, and he never told. And after awhile, her tears stopped.
A kunoichi must learn to act. To lull others into a false sense of security. A kunoichi who can act can be worth more than a skilled ninja who cannot. Women are underestimated. Remember that.
People call them both sadists; the scars on Ibiki's face and the way that he can come out of a session of torturing someone do nothing to change their minds. Anko's cruel jokes and the bloodthirsty kills she makes on the battlefield do nothing to change their minds. Only the older shinobi understand them, but they do not approach them. There is nothing to connect them. Really, there is nothing to connect Ibiki and Anko to one another. They simply found each other.
There isn't love between them. But when Ibiki kisses her and draws her hands to his face, letting her trace the scars that cover the skin, it shows how much he trusts her. When Anko comes to him with tears in her eyes and tells him another few words about her past, he understands that she has accepted him. Anko smiles for him, and sometimes he can see that it is a real smile. He runs his hands over her skin, and Anko is not repulsed. There isn't love, that is what they tell themselves, each other, and anyone who asks.
They won't even consider that it might be a lie.
Title: Miss
Series: Full Metal Alchemist
Characters/Pairing: ScarxLust
Rating: PG
Word Count: 533
The problem is, they always miss each other. Just by a little bit, but they still miss each other, and it only leads to pain.
For Lust, what she wants most is to become human, because she believes that, then, she will have life. Never mind that she already lives and breaths and eat, never mind that she has the capability of holding all the emotions of a human, never mind that she has a soul, no matter how warped others might think it is. She wants to be human, and she wants to be her, the Ishbalan woman with dark hair and eyes and skin, wrapped in rough, brightly dyed wool, with her Ishbalan lover at her side. In her mind's eyes, the man is tall and well built, muscle and muslin, grey and dark, with wine red eyes and a pale scar on his forehead. There is a thought that she has, has had so many times, that if she were the woman she once was, he would love her and hold her, and that she would have life. She doesn't realize that becoming that woman would be forfeiting herself, and she doesn't realize that the woman she once was did not love the scarred man.
For Scar, all he wants is an end to the pain. He wants to see the end of the suffering of the Ishbalans, he wants to avenge his brother, and he wants to sleep. But everywhere he turns, she is there, reminding him of everything that hurts deep inside. She looks so much like that woman from before, even though her hair is darker and her skin is lighter, and her eyes are like washed away blood. She no longer smells of sand and grain, but of mint and honey and the ever lingering scent of death. She's harsher, this woman who calls herself Lust, and yet softer, and she doesn't laugh or smile like she used to. It's silk that covers her body, and she leaves her shoulders bare to the open sun. There's a red tattoo etched upon her chest, and it draws his eyes more than it should. She paints her lips, and smiles coyly, and her hair is wild and free around her. She's beautiful to him, and strange, and dangerous, and he longs to take her in his arms and touch her, but part of him warns him that she is his brother's woman. No matter how much he wants her, she was and will once again become his brother's. Without fail, she will slip away from him. He insists that she is not that woman, that she is not the woman he loved before, and she continues to insist that she is, and that she will be her, and that tears at Scar, because he sees all that emotion bottled up in her sanguine eyes, and he knows that she wants to be that woman.
They don't understand each other, though they are so close. They both want to touch the other, to love the other, to hold and hold and never let go, but they miss each other, and they can't even reach out to bridge the gap.
Title: Waiting
Series: Naruto
Characters/Pairing: NejixTenten
Rating: PG
Word Count: 541
She always sat next to him, several feet away, never touching. He would always stare out into the distance, his attention determinedly not focused on her. There were never words, there were never actions. She would simply sit next to him, unmoving, for an hour or until someone came for one of them or the other.
Neji wasn't the type to show weakness. He wasn't the type of person who showed when they were happy or sad. Anger came more easily for him, and after so many years Tenten had begun to understand his different habits, had begun to understand when he needed to be alone and when he needed someone by his side.
That was why she sat by his side, never touching, never talking.
When he was upset, he would leave all of them and go sit by himself, somewhere far out it the training fields, and he would stare out into the woods, byakugan activated. And Tenten would come and find him and seat herself down beside him. She would watch him as he watched the wilderness, but she never did anything more. She would simply be there for him, in the unlikely chance that he wanted to talk, or needed to be touched.
He never was able to open up to her, even after years of working together.
If asked, Tenten would never admit that she had feelings for him. Ino had asked her once and Tenten had stared at the blond for a moment, until the girl shrugged and turned the conversation to something else. But Ino was one of the few who noticed how Tenten acted around Neji, or when Neji was mention. The girl-no, the woman-was now a spy, and very well versed at reading body language. Tenten knew that Ino was able to see how she tensed ever so slightly when Neji was close to her, or how her eyes would dart up whenever his name was mentioned. But Ino never said anything after Tenten's first refusal to speak. She was one of the few who knew how much the white eyed boy meant to her.
Lee didn't know-or maybe he did, though he never said anything. Gai-sensei knew, and it seemed as though he understood. Behind all of his flowery words and his elaborate speeches, Gai knew something of what Tenten felt, and he knew that it wasn't something to be talked about.
If Neji knew, he didn't show it. But Tenten couldn't understand it if he didn't know.
She sat by his side whenever she knew that he needed her. If her presence could help him, then she would gladly sit beside him for the rest of her life.
Neji. I'm here for you, if you ever need me.
She'd told him that once, in one of those rare moments when she opened up to him a little more about her feelings. He had only looked at her, before turning away and resuming training.
It had hurt.
But still, she sat at his side.
Maybe, someday, he would understand just why she sat there, why she did that when she received nothing from it at all. Or, just maybe, he would only understand when she was gone.
Title: Weeping
Series: Naruto
Characters/Pairing: Tayuya, Jiroubou, KimimaroxTayuya
Rating: PG-13 or R. Lots of foul language.
Word Count: 849
Tayuya stood there for a moment, so shocked that she couldn't move. She could only watch as the pale man walked away from her.
You mean nothing to me. I'd kill you without a moments hesitation.
Her jaw trembled once, and then she clamped it shut, not willing to show that weakness. She was not like that, she was not some girl who depended entirely on the approval of a man. That was not her--
And yet his words cut far too deeply. There hadn't even been a drop of emotion behind them.
You mean nothing to me.
It was as though those touches and stolen kisses had meant nothing. As though she had just been some, some tool for him. Something to use, and then dispose of.
Her hand clenched suddenly, and then she fumbled at her waist, clutching at the flute. Touching it brought her a small amount of comfort.
Traveling back to her dimly lit quarters, Tayuya found herself stumbling, tripping so that she had to reach out and grasp at the wall to keep herself upright.
He couldn't have actually meant what he said...
Except she knew that he did. He had never loved her; all of him, mind, body, soul, was given to Orochimaru. He loved Orochimaru, though she didn't think that he wanted him in any sexual way. But there wasn't any room in Kimimaro's life for a pink haired, foul-mouthed woman. She was a fool-no, she was fucking idiot-for thinking that he might have possibly felt something for her.
She found her door, fumbling with the knob, trying desperately to open it. She didn't want anyone to see her, and she didn't want to fall apart. She wouldn't fall apart. But the damn, fucking door wasn't opening!
“God fucking dammit!” She kicked at the door violently, sending a flash of pain through her foot. “Dammit, you piece of shit door! Open up! Fuck, open!” She twisted the handle again, pushing all her weight onto it. It opened and she lost her balance, tripping forward and sprawling onto the cold stone floor.
This wasn't her. This shouldn't affect her at all. Kimimaro didn't mean anything to her, he didn't! He was just a bastard, a piece of shit, and she didn't need him.
“Tayuya?”
Someone was blocking the light from the doorway. Tayuya's eyes widened, and she scrambled to pull herself into a sitting position. “Get the fuck out of my room, Jiroubou!”
For once, the sound ninja didn't tell her off for cursing. He simply took a step past the threshold. “Are you all right?”
“Do I look all right? Dumb ass, I'm fine.” She crossed her arms over her chest, turning her face away from him. “And get the hell out, you shit.”
Jiroubou crouched down beside her, reaching out and touching her cheek. Tayuya flinched away from the contact. “You're crying.”
She ground her teeth together. Fucking...dammit, she wasn't crying. She wasn't crying over that fucking, cock sucking bastard! “I'm not.” But her jaw continued to tremble, and she found that she was shaking. Dimly, she heard the door close. “What are you doing?”
“Tell me what's wrong.”
“Stop prying. I don't want to talk about it.” She hugged herself tighter. Stupid Jiroubou. Why couldn't he just leave her alone? It wasn't as though he would actually care to listen, anyway. “It doesn't concern you, so get lost.”
There was a moment of silence, and Tayuya found that it was getting harder and harder to control her tears. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to make them stop.
I'd kill you without a moments hesitation.
You mean nothing to me.
All you're good for is--
She cut the thoughts off there. She didn't want to remember.
She felt something touch her shoulders and she jumped. “Don't you fucking touch me, Jiroubou.” But her voice was cracking now, even as she fought to push herself away. “Get the fuck away!” She twisted her upper body, flailing with her arms. “Stop it!”
The orange haired man pulled her tight against him. “You can cry if you want,” she heard him say, but it didn't register in her mind, because she was fighting to get away from him, hitting and scratching at his back.
“Let me go! Let me go! Let me go, goddammit! F-fuck you, you damn bastard! God-d-damm-it...” Her voice broke off and she clung to him as her sobbing increased. Tayuya buried her head in Jiroubou's chest, now clutching at the back of his shirt as though it was the only way to keep her from slipping away into a complete breakdown.
She never told him what was wrong, simply cried into his shirt until it was soaked with tears. He didn't let her go until she had cried herself to sleep, and then he set her on her bed, leaving her there.
She never knew that she had torn shallow gashes into his back, and he never told her. They never mentioned what had happened.
Maybe it was better that way.
Title: Understand
Series: Naruto
Characters/Pairing: IbikixAnko
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1029
No one quite understands them. Either of them, and no one really knows how to approach them. Both are covered in scars, both physical and emotional, and those scars are what scare everyone else away. Each has a different way to deal with those frightened glances, those hushed whispers. Ibiki, though he would love nothing more than to shove them up against a wall and slit their throats, simply ignores them, or passes by with a half smile that throws most people into confusion. Anko, who has less self control (or, at least, that is what she wants others to think), is more prone to spontaneous acts, whether they simply be playful or incredibly deadly. Both shinobi are volatile, liable to be set off when pushed too far-and no one is every quite sure how far is too far-and yet they are both incredibly fragile.
Anko hates the stares, she hates the whispers. When she was younger, before she learned how to only show those emotions that she wanted to, days would come when she would run from a room in tears. Eventually, however, she learned to hide her weakness. She stopped crying. Eventually, only a cheerful-though slightly sadistic-mask remained in place, hiding all of her inner thoughts and feelings.
Ibiki, though, breaks. He takes as much stress as he can, and when no more can be pile on him, he falls apart. Breaks down. It happens rarely, but when it does there are very few people who can control him. One time, long ago, his younger brother's voice could help, but those days are gone. Sedatives once worked the best, but even those have lost their effectiveness.
Perhaps their fragility is the reason why their relationship sustains. Anko holds him when he breaks, calms him and gives him an anchor. Ibiki is simply there for Anko when the stares and whispers become too much to handle. She's learned not to touch his scars, and he's learned not to touch hers.
They do not joke about love. There is no love between them, simply need, want, lust. Anko knows that she could die any day, and he knows that he could as well. They just find something in one another, a comfort that others cannot, or do not, give them. But the way that Anko can relax in his arms and let herself fall asleep against his chest, the way that Ibiki can let down all his guards and trust her to understand, or at least to accept, creates an illusion that someone looking in might call love.
Anko was asked once if she loved Ibiki. She laughed.
Shinobi do not love.
There are great and elaborate speeches that leaders of Konoha would give, on comradeship and friendship. But in the end, there can only be the trust. Love, whatever it is, and emotional attachment are not things for a shinobi. They only bring pain.
Ibiki watched Kakashi fall apart after the deaths of the Yondaime and Rin. He saw the brilliant man fall apart at the seams, nearly lose himself. He saw him sew himself back together and try to renew his life. Sometimes, in those odd moments when Ibiki sees the jounin with his students, he thinks that, maybe, Kakashi has found some happiness.
He's seen enough people break and lose themselves in his life. He knows how the mind works, but sometimes, he builds up enough logic around him that he fools himself. And any real feelings that he might possibly have for Anko are pushed away, swept under a rug and buried in the back of his mind.
On dark nights, when the rain slicks the roofs and streets of Konoha, when the lights die away and he feels smaller and colder than normal, he is able to hide himself in Anko. And, in some strange way, she is able to hold him and save him.
She has hidden rooms of her own, memories locked away, things that she will never tell him. She's been hurt deeply, and she no longer trusts easily. Ibiki once asked Izumo what she was like before she became Orochimaru's student. Her former teammate had taken a moment to answer.
She smiled more.
When Anko smiles now, it isn't a real smile. The villagers of Konoha haven't seen a real smile since she was fourteen, since the year that Orochimaru discarded her. Because when she was fourteen, the rumors and the whispers and the stares began. No one knew what her relationship with the sannin was, but many suspected that it was something more than that of a teacher and his student.
She cried for days after he left. Only the Sandaime ever knew what had happened, and he never told. And after awhile, her tears stopped.
A kunoichi must learn to act. To lull others into a false sense of security. A kunoichi who can act can be worth more than a skilled ninja who cannot. Women are underestimated. Remember that.
People call them both sadists; the scars on Ibiki's face and the way that he can come out of a session of torturing someone do nothing to change their minds. Anko's cruel jokes and the bloodthirsty kills she makes on the battlefield do nothing to change their minds. Only the older shinobi understand them, but they do not approach them. There is nothing to connect them. Really, there is nothing to connect Ibiki and Anko to one another. They simply found each other.
There isn't love between them. But when Ibiki kisses her and draws her hands to his face, letting her trace the scars that cover the skin, it shows how much he trusts her. When Anko comes to him with tears in her eyes and tells him another few words about her past, he understands that she has accepted him. Anko smiles for him, and sometimes he can see that it is a real smile. He runs his hands over her skin, and Anko is not repulsed. There isn't love, that is what they tell themselves, each other, and anyone who asks.
They won't even consider that it might be a lie.
Title: Miss
Series: Full Metal Alchemist
Characters/Pairing: ScarxLust
Rating: PG
Word Count: 533
The problem is, they always miss each other. Just by a little bit, but they still miss each other, and it only leads to pain.
For Lust, what she wants most is to become human, because she believes that, then, she will have life. Never mind that she already lives and breaths and eat, never mind that she has the capability of holding all the emotions of a human, never mind that she has a soul, no matter how warped others might think it is. She wants to be human, and she wants to be her, the Ishbalan woman with dark hair and eyes and skin, wrapped in rough, brightly dyed wool, with her Ishbalan lover at her side. In her mind's eyes, the man is tall and well built, muscle and muslin, grey and dark, with wine red eyes and a pale scar on his forehead. There is a thought that she has, has had so many times, that if she were the woman she once was, he would love her and hold her, and that she would have life. She doesn't realize that becoming that woman would be forfeiting herself, and she doesn't realize that the woman she once was did not love the scarred man.
For Scar, all he wants is an end to the pain. He wants to see the end of the suffering of the Ishbalans, he wants to avenge his brother, and he wants to sleep. But everywhere he turns, she is there, reminding him of everything that hurts deep inside. She looks so much like that woman from before, even though her hair is darker and her skin is lighter, and her eyes are like washed away blood. She no longer smells of sand and grain, but of mint and honey and the ever lingering scent of death. She's harsher, this woman who calls herself Lust, and yet softer, and she doesn't laugh or smile like she used to. It's silk that covers her body, and she leaves her shoulders bare to the open sun. There's a red tattoo etched upon her chest, and it draws his eyes more than it should. She paints her lips, and smiles coyly, and her hair is wild and free around her. She's beautiful to him, and strange, and dangerous, and he longs to take her in his arms and touch her, but part of him warns him that she is his brother's woman. No matter how much he wants her, she was and will once again become his brother's. Without fail, she will slip away from him. He insists that she is not that woman, that she is not the woman he loved before, and she continues to insist that she is, and that she will be her, and that tears at Scar, because he sees all that emotion bottled up in her sanguine eyes, and he knows that she wants to be that woman.
They don't understand each other, though they are so close. They both want to touch the other, to love the other, to hold and hold and never let go, but they miss each other, and they can't even reach out to bridge the gap.