Prompt #33: Spirit
Title: Enveloped
Author: starzki
Rating: K+
Genre: Drama/Comfort
Word Count: 496
Universe: Canon
Summary: In the final battle with Naraku, when all hope seemed lost, they turned to each other.
-x-
She pressed her face into his robes and felt enveloped by him.
They were nearly lost. They were on the threshold of death and the only thing she wished was that whatever was coming would be painless. Naraku was winning. The Kazaana was spreading. Sango had taken in too much miasma.
They waited, holding one another. Dying.
Sango wheezed poison and Miroku shuddered at winds from his Kazaana whispering through his veins. There was nothing left to lose.
So they loved.
He held her so carefully. She felt cherished by him: divine, worshipped in the tenderness of his embrace. Funny that his touch, the bane of her recent existence, would be what she most appreciated in her final moments.
She was at that precarious edge between consciousness and blackness. That point where the distance between objects in waking life and the vaporous sensations of dreamland intermixed and confused. Sango could feel the weave of Miroku’s robes against her cheek and clenched within her hands. But more, she could smell the sweet breeze that stirred the acre of flax that would be the linen that would become his robes, heard the laughter of those telling jokes as they weaved the cloth, and could taste the berries that dyed his kesa such a vibrant hue.
She was outside of herself. She was a spirit with a long tail dancing and swirling above their heads. Miroku’s spirit joined her. Their auras spun and played together, happy despite their nearing demise. They were finally unguarded, free to let the other in. They flew about so dizzily that they mixed and forgot which parts belonged to whom.
What was happening was love. Sango knew his life completely. She saw the ultimate goodness within him that spurred a trust of him that would never again waiver. She was adored, body and soul, and knew that he would stand by her side forever.
The air around them seemed to spark with the chemical reaction of two souls coming together. She knew that he felt the same closeness, that he could taste the purity of her desire for him. He held her closer, ran his fingers through her hair.
Sango knew Miroku’s body. She did not just feel him, she felt as him. It was like part of her was holding herself, loving her and forgiving her in ways she could never manage on her own.
And she knew he felt the same. She knew that he completely understood that in his arms, dangerously close the Kazaana that was about to consume them both, that she had never felt more protected and secure.
They loved.
They loved more than one another. They loved themselves as the other loved them.
There was despair, yes. But above all, there was forgiveness and peace.
They waited to see what would happen next, gathering the strength they found within one another. Whatever barrier they faced next, even if it was death, they would find a way to overcome.
END
Author: starzki
Rating: K+
Genre: Drama/Comfort
Word Count: 496
Universe: Canon
Summary: In the final battle with Naraku, when all hope seemed lost, they turned to each other.
-x-
She pressed her face into his robes and felt enveloped by him.
They were nearly lost. They were on the threshold of death and the only thing she wished was that whatever was coming would be painless. Naraku was winning. The Kazaana was spreading. Sango had taken in too much miasma.
They waited, holding one another. Dying.
Sango wheezed poison and Miroku shuddered at winds from his Kazaana whispering through his veins. There was nothing left to lose.
So they loved.
He held her so carefully. She felt cherished by him: divine, worshipped in the tenderness of his embrace. Funny that his touch, the bane of her recent existence, would be what she most appreciated in her final moments.
She was at that precarious edge between consciousness and blackness. That point where the distance between objects in waking life and the vaporous sensations of dreamland intermixed and confused. Sango could feel the weave of Miroku’s robes against her cheek and clenched within her hands. But more, she could smell the sweet breeze that stirred the acre of flax that would be the linen that would become his robes, heard the laughter of those telling jokes as they weaved the cloth, and could taste the berries that dyed his kesa such a vibrant hue.
She was outside of herself. She was a spirit with a long tail dancing and swirling above their heads. Miroku’s spirit joined her. Their auras spun and played together, happy despite their nearing demise. They were finally unguarded, free to let the other in. They flew about so dizzily that they mixed and forgot which parts belonged to whom.
What was happening was love. Sango knew his life completely. She saw the ultimate goodness within him that spurred a trust of him that would never again waiver. She was adored, body and soul, and knew that he would stand by her side forever.
The air around them seemed to spark with the chemical reaction of two souls coming together. She knew that he felt the same closeness, that he could taste the purity of her desire for him. He held her closer, ran his fingers through her hair.
Sango knew Miroku’s body. She did not just feel him, she felt as him. It was like part of her was holding herself, loving her and forgiving her in ways she could never manage on her own.
And she knew he felt the same. She knew that he completely understood that in his arms, dangerously close the Kazaana that was about to consume them both, that she had never felt more protected and secure.
They loved.
They loved more than one another. They loved themselves as the other loved them.
There was despair, yes. But above all, there was forgiveness and peace.
They waited to see what would happen next, gathering the strength they found within one another. Whatever barrier they faced next, even if it was death, they would find a way to overcome.
END