[L5R/S7] In their season;
“In Their Season”
L5R, Alternate Universe
Includes original characters. L5R belongs to Wizards of the Coast, S7 belongs to GONZO.
Prompts: samurai, heartbeat;
Tales from the Firefly House: A Blossoming Affair
The lights never dim in this place, he thought to himself as he leaned idly against the frame of an open window. Even well past the midnight hour, the sounds of merry-making were still loud and lively as though the sun had set only minutes before. It was a world unto itself, this town where love was a prize bestowed to the highest bidder and smiles often carried the undercurrent of profit. It was a city of desire and satisfaction, of need and imagined necessity, where streets led the weary or anxious to the open and waiting arms of women and the drinks never stopped flowing.
He had been living here for the last five months, a shadow of his former self. The sounds of the battlefield were a memory now, fading fast with the nights that sometimes seemed both too long and too short. He sighed and drew his right hand across his torso, curling his fingers around the cloth that covered the curve of his left shoulder. His heart felt heavy and somewhat incomplete; it was nothing unusual.
“Samurai-sama,” a soft voice murmured by the doorway and though he had felt her presence minutes before, Shichiroji turned his head only now that she had called his attention.
“I told you not to call me that anymore.” He offered a faint smile, allowing his hand to fall away as he stood upright, his fingers finding a comfortable perch on his hip. Even shrouded in shadow, he knew every feature on her face; every line, every dip and hollow of her body. A familiar and uneasy feeling crawled over his stomach and his jaw tensed just a little before he spoke again. “I returned with the sake, but the young ones informed me that you were busy with someone.” His hand lifted - the only one he had left - and he brushed his fingertips gently along the column of her neck, seeking the pulse that sometimes throbbed to the rhythm of his own heartbeat.
“I know you will tell me I have no right to ask...” His voice was slightly hoarse, and he cleared his throat halfway through his sentence, “but who was it tonight?” When her hair threaded through his fingers like thin stalks of wheat not yet ready for harvest, it was all he could do to check his temper and pull away.
He had never known jealousy, but the last few months had taught him enough. “Give me a name so that I may conjure the face in my mind.”
She smiled at him then, a slow and serene gesture upon the beauty of her face, and she caught his lone hand between both of her own; lifting it, palm face up, to her lips.
“I am a wanted woman, samurai-sama.”
Her kisses were soft against his callused palm and he gave into the urge to cup her chin. When he lifted her face, their eyes meeting in the night, he noted the warmth in them that signaled an invitation into her bed... or his.
“As mistress of The Firefly House, I have my duties.” Her fingers stroked his own, as if a distraction, but his eyes never left hers. “Surely you understand.”
He watched her turn and go, her skirt caressing the wooden floor beneath their feet the way a lover might hover his hands over his beloved. He fell a step forward, allowing only that much before he held her fast, their fingers entwined like ivy upon a crumbling stone wall.
“I do and I don’t,” he whispered, pulling her back and against him, allowing his one arm to come around her. He inhaled her scent: a mix of incense and smoke, of alcohol and powder; felt the warmth of his breath linger over her skin. He tightened his embrace, allowing a smile as she welcomed it. “Are we at peace now, Yukino?”
“Only if you promise to keep your temper in check,” she replied, as quick and as sure as a blade arcing through tall grass. He heard her sigh, heavy and sweet, and he swallowed, missing the taste of her lips under his. “I have clients to see to, Shichiroji-sama,” she murmured, the weight of his name on her tongue as comfortable as the weight of her lithe body against the solidness of his frame. “Promises to keep.”
He nuzzled her neck, her pulse enticing beneath her pale flesh. “Every promise in this place is a lie wrapped in pretty trappings.” He breathed her in again, unable to resist the action. “You’ve bewitched me, woman.”
“That is your fault, not mine.”
His grip tightened, though not enough to bruise. He felt the tremor that ran through her, brief, like a star. He took some satisfaction in that.
It was forbidden to want more than what she could give, and no happiness could come from it. But still, he wanted. He waited.
“Where were you?” He dared the question again, leaning his head on her deceptively fragile shoulder. “Answer me that at least?”
He would never harm those who stepped under the arch of her doorway. They both knew that as fact. He also knew she would never tell and in the morning he would guess instead, based upon what trinkets were carelessly left behind.
“There is a girl in the far end of the house.” She murmured, her head turning so that her gaze caught him in its periphery. “I tell you this because I trust you, if you can find it in you to believe that I do.”
He loosed his embrace, allowing her to face him, the expression on her features betraying the worry hidden behind her eyes. “She sat on the steps, seeking shelter from the rain.”
“Shichiroji...” she began again, forgetting the honorific as her gaze fell to where his hand was cocooned between hers; it was a habit she had taken to when she needed his wisdom. “There is a mon carved beneath the soundboard of her koto. I saw it when I took it out in order to clean and dry it from the rainwater.” She breathed in deep and expelled the breath with a heavy sigh. “I do not recognize it, but perhaps you would.”
He drew her close momentarily, his lips brushing her forehead. “She is a child, and while I may know how to care for young girls, Shichiroji-sama,” her gaze lifted and her eyes searched his, “I know nothing of caring for the blind.”
L5R, Alternate Universe
Includes original characters. L5R belongs to Wizards of the Coast, S7 belongs to GONZO.
Prompts: samurai, heartbeat;
Tales from the Firefly House: A Blossoming Affair
The lights never dim in this place, he thought to himself as he leaned idly against the frame of an open window. Even well past the midnight hour, the sounds of merry-making were still loud and lively as though the sun had set only minutes before. It was a world unto itself, this town where love was a prize bestowed to the highest bidder and smiles often carried the undercurrent of profit. It was a city of desire and satisfaction, of need and imagined necessity, where streets led the weary or anxious to the open and waiting arms of women and the drinks never stopped flowing.
He had been living here for the last five months, a shadow of his former self. The sounds of the battlefield were a memory now, fading fast with the nights that sometimes seemed both too long and too short. He sighed and drew his right hand across his torso, curling his fingers around the cloth that covered the curve of his left shoulder. His heart felt heavy and somewhat incomplete; it was nothing unusual.
“Samurai-sama,” a soft voice murmured by the doorway and though he had felt her presence minutes before, Shichiroji turned his head only now that she had called his attention.
“I told you not to call me that anymore.” He offered a faint smile, allowing his hand to fall away as he stood upright, his fingers finding a comfortable perch on his hip. Even shrouded in shadow, he knew every feature on her face; every line, every dip and hollow of her body. A familiar and uneasy feeling crawled over his stomach and his jaw tensed just a little before he spoke again. “I returned with the sake, but the young ones informed me that you were busy with someone.” His hand lifted - the only one he had left - and he brushed his fingertips gently along the column of her neck, seeking the pulse that sometimes throbbed to the rhythm of his own heartbeat.
“I know you will tell me I have no right to ask...” His voice was slightly hoarse, and he cleared his throat halfway through his sentence, “but who was it tonight?” When her hair threaded through his fingers like thin stalks of wheat not yet ready for harvest, it was all he could do to check his temper and pull away.
He had never known jealousy, but the last few months had taught him enough. “Give me a name so that I may conjure the face in my mind.”
She smiled at him then, a slow and serene gesture upon the beauty of her face, and she caught his lone hand between both of her own; lifting it, palm face up, to her lips.
“I am a wanted woman, samurai-sama.”
Her kisses were soft against his callused palm and he gave into the urge to cup her chin. When he lifted her face, their eyes meeting in the night, he noted the warmth in them that signaled an invitation into her bed... or his.
“As mistress of The Firefly House, I have my duties.” Her fingers stroked his own, as if a distraction, but his eyes never left hers. “Surely you understand.”
He watched her turn and go, her skirt caressing the wooden floor beneath their feet the way a lover might hover his hands over his beloved. He fell a step forward, allowing only that much before he held her fast, their fingers entwined like ivy upon a crumbling stone wall.
“I do and I don’t,” he whispered, pulling her back and against him, allowing his one arm to come around her. He inhaled her scent: a mix of incense and smoke, of alcohol and powder; felt the warmth of his breath linger over her skin. He tightened his embrace, allowing a smile as she welcomed it. “Are we at peace now, Yukino?”
“Only if you promise to keep your temper in check,” she replied, as quick and as sure as a blade arcing through tall grass. He heard her sigh, heavy and sweet, and he swallowed, missing the taste of her lips under his. “I have clients to see to, Shichiroji-sama,” she murmured, the weight of his name on her tongue as comfortable as the weight of her lithe body against the solidness of his frame. “Promises to keep.”
He nuzzled her neck, her pulse enticing beneath her pale flesh. “Every promise in this place is a lie wrapped in pretty trappings.” He breathed her in again, unable to resist the action. “You’ve bewitched me, woman.”
“That is your fault, not mine.”
His grip tightened, though not enough to bruise. He felt the tremor that ran through her, brief, like a star. He took some satisfaction in that.
It was forbidden to want more than what she could give, and no happiness could come from it. But still, he wanted. He waited.
“Where were you?” He dared the question again, leaning his head on her deceptively fragile shoulder. “Answer me that at least?”
He would never harm those who stepped under the arch of her doorway. They both knew that as fact. He also knew she would never tell and in the morning he would guess instead, based upon what trinkets were carelessly left behind.
“There is a girl in the far end of the house.” She murmured, her head turning so that her gaze caught him in its periphery. “I tell you this because I trust you, if you can find it in you to believe that I do.”
He loosed his embrace, allowing her to face him, the expression on her features betraying the worry hidden behind her eyes. “She sat on the steps, seeking shelter from the rain.”
“Shichiroji...” she began again, forgetting the honorific as her gaze fell to where his hand was cocooned between hers; it was a habit she had taken to when she needed his wisdom. “There is a mon carved beneath the soundboard of her koto. I saw it when I took it out in order to clean and dry it from the rainwater.” She breathed in deep and expelled the breath with a heavy sigh. “I do not recognize it, but perhaps you would.”
He drew her close momentarily, his lips brushing her forehead. “She is a child, and while I may know how to care for young girls, Shichiroji-sama,” her gaze lifted and her eyes searched his, “I know nothing of caring for the blind.”