This one's for JSG.
.
Completely not-tournament related, except that it's a gift for someone in it, who does awesome things with awesome women.
DDS. Argilla, Jinana, before the raid on the Citadel. Just a ficbit.
Rash
DDS
Mithrigil Galtirglin
After the council, there’s usually nothing. ‘After’ means orders are given and raiding parties are formed, dispatched, directed. It means that Gale ceases to speak as the Dissemination Machine (Argilla doesn’t know who serves that function here in Manipura) and that the command room is no longer relevant.
But Jinana stays. Argilla wants to as well. So she stands in the doorway, turns back and isn’t quite sure what to say.
“Argilla. Have you forgotten something?”
“I…” She shrugs against the frame of the door. “We have time before our respective units depart, so…”
The red paint on Jinana’s face shifts a little, like she’s turning her head to the side without actually moving. “You may wait here. You have my trust.”
The words fill Argilla with something warm, but not the warmth of Privthi sated. “Thank you,” she says now because she said them before and they made Jinana call them beautiful. She pushes off the doorframe and raises her hand to press the console and shut it.
Jinana looks to her (like Gale when he does not comprehend). “You wish to address me alone?”
“-Yes.” Argilla realizes it’s true-
“Why?”
-but not why. There is something she very clearly wants to do, but it seems rash, like abandoning her post just to get a better sniping angle.
“You are perturbed,” Jinana says, placid, stepping away from the Tactical. “Have you concerns about the mission?”
“No…” It coalesces. “…About the aftermath,” Argilla says. “The plan’s a good one, but…but I know people will die.”
“It is-sad,” Jinana agrees, not looking away. “I do not believe that this battle is needless. But it persists in being sad.”
“Yes…” Argilla’s want nags at her, like a breach in her armor letting in the rain. It’s making her hands curl and her hair feel prickly. “Jinana, I-”
Her eyes are sad too.
“-I know you’re strong, but you’re a target, and there’s-there’s something I-in case Mick gets you, I-”
“You wish to partake of me?”
“I-what?”
Jinana is calm and strong and just-unfazed, the way Serph is, the way Gale is. One of her hands traces idle patterns on the Tactical. “Of late the warriors of my tribe have taken to a custom that does not…eradicate this change, but remits it. It is like devouring but no flesh is exchanged, only fluid.” The words shouldn’t sound as good to Argilla as they do, but the way she says it-the hint in Jinana’s eyes of color like her hair-that makes Argilla’s muscles tighten and her heels dig into the floor. “I want to do this with you.”
Argilla’s mouth dries out inside, but she can say it, it’s right, “I want it too.”
Jinana nods, and abandons the Tactical entirely. Her heels click on the floor and get louder and it’s a wonderful thing to hear, and then to feel her so close- The slick of Jinana’s armor catches on Argilla’s jacket, at the Atma mark, pulsing faintly. Jinana’s eyes are still like the armor but her breath is near and warm and Argilla understands. She bends down, puts her mouth on Jinana’s.
It is. It’s what seemed so rash before, but it’s quiet and gentle and wet. Something in Argilla swells and she wants to pull Jinana closer, does, puts her hands near Jinana’s Atma mark and does with it what their mouths are doing. Jinana’s holding her too, has her hands through Argilla’s hair but not pulling it, just touching, just reminding. She moves her tongue like she wants and that feels good, rubbing against Argilla’s, warm and the opposite of sad.
.
.
Completely not-tournament related, except that it's a gift for someone in it, who does awesome things with awesome women.
DDS. Argilla, Jinana, before the raid on the Citadel. Just a ficbit.
Rash
DDS
Mithrigil Galtirglin
After the council, there’s usually nothing. ‘After’ means orders are given and raiding parties are formed, dispatched, directed. It means that Gale ceases to speak as the Dissemination Machine (Argilla doesn’t know who serves that function here in Manipura) and that the command room is no longer relevant.
But Jinana stays. Argilla wants to as well. So she stands in the doorway, turns back and isn’t quite sure what to say.
“Argilla. Have you forgotten something?”
“I…” She shrugs against the frame of the door. “We have time before our respective units depart, so…”
The red paint on Jinana’s face shifts a little, like she’s turning her head to the side without actually moving. “You may wait here. You have my trust.”
The words fill Argilla with something warm, but not the warmth of Privthi sated. “Thank you,” she says now because she said them before and they made Jinana call them beautiful. She pushes off the doorframe and raises her hand to press the console and shut it.
Jinana looks to her (like Gale when he does not comprehend). “You wish to address me alone?”
“-Yes.” Argilla realizes it’s true-
“Why?”
-but not why. There is something she very clearly wants to do, but it seems rash, like abandoning her post just to get a better sniping angle.
“You are perturbed,” Jinana says, placid, stepping away from the Tactical. “Have you concerns about the mission?”
“No…” It coalesces. “…About the aftermath,” Argilla says. “The plan’s a good one, but…but I know people will die.”
“It is-sad,” Jinana agrees, not looking away. “I do not believe that this battle is needless. But it persists in being sad.”
“Yes…” Argilla’s want nags at her, like a breach in her armor letting in the rain. It’s making her hands curl and her hair feel prickly. “Jinana, I-”
Her eyes are sad too.
“-I know you’re strong, but you’re a target, and there’s-there’s something I-in case Mick gets you, I-”
“You wish to partake of me?”
“I-what?”
Jinana is calm and strong and just-unfazed, the way Serph is, the way Gale is. One of her hands traces idle patterns on the Tactical. “Of late the warriors of my tribe have taken to a custom that does not…eradicate this change, but remits it. It is like devouring but no flesh is exchanged, only fluid.” The words shouldn’t sound as good to Argilla as they do, but the way she says it-the hint in Jinana’s eyes of color like her hair-that makes Argilla’s muscles tighten and her heels dig into the floor. “I want to do this with you.”
Argilla’s mouth dries out inside, but she can say it, it’s right, “I want it too.”
Jinana nods, and abandons the Tactical entirely. Her heels click on the floor and get louder and it’s a wonderful thing to hear, and then to feel her so close- The slick of Jinana’s armor catches on Argilla’s jacket, at the Atma mark, pulsing faintly. Jinana’s eyes are still like the armor but her breath is near and warm and Argilla understands. She bends down, puts her mouth on Jinana’s.
It is. It’s what seemed so rash before, but it’s quiet and gentle and wet. Something in Argilla swells and she wants to pull Jinana closer, does, puts her hands near Jinana’s Atma mark and does with it what their mouths are doing. Jinana’s holding her too, has her hands through Argilla’s hair but not pulling it, just touching, just reminding. She moves her tongue like she wants and that feels good, rubbing against Argilla’s, warm and the opposite of sad.
.
.