red hot cinnamon #1: tinder/kindling
Author: Marika Kailaya
Title: while your body burned
'Verse: Nagekawashii; MeYu
Challenge: Red Hot Cinnamon: 1. tinder/kindling
Counts for the Summer Challenge?: Yes.
Toppings/Extras: N/A
Wordcount: 638
Rating: PG
A/N: mid '60s.
She is tinder at the best of times and at any moment she could set herself on fire. He knows it. Everyone who sees her knows it, looks at her paper thin pale skin with the white scars streaking down her neck where the hair's now short and smooth. She has no shame anymore. Let it not be said that his lady is cold or cold-hearted no matter how many people she's ever broken, up to and including Laoidheach himself. She isn't.
She is on fire. Constantly. Her head and her heart and her soul, all of them are burning brightly, and you can see it right beneath her veins, touch her and scorch yourself even when it's freezing cold at night and not a heater or a flame within miles. Warm yourself by her glow.
When she's healthy this is what makes her all the more beautiful, all the more holy. Flat truth is Laoidheach would kneel at her scarred, starved feet if she'd let him, sometimes.
Of course he just might be biased.
But right now she lies mostly sleeping in his arms, one hand huge in comparison to her entire self to cradle her head and the other hand dipping a shred of his shirt in and out of the cold creek to soak her forehead. Her parted lips are dry and cracking, and the touch of her skin honestly burns him. Her breath comes out in smoke puffs against the frigid air and he feels sick himself thinking how high her fever must be staying even out here.
Was she cold or turning blue he'd take her somewhere. Anywhere sheltered, under a bridge if he had to. He'd pour blankets and his own clothes like hot water on her and light fires with whatever was available but as is she's too hot and the only thing for kindling is her own abused flesh.
So he holds her even though she's shaking in her sleep because she's so damn cold even if her body is so damn hot. So fevers go. Sometimes she opens her eyes, dark and shiny and desperate, and begs him for a blanket, and he can't even find anything to say, making her even colder by dripping ice water on her throat and face and chest.
But she just goes back to sleep, or falls back into unconsciousness. He can't tell which. She never once stops shivering.
He soaks the already heating piece of cloth back in the creek, shivering himself both from being out here near the water and having torn up his shirt, and brings his numb hand back up to wring the half clean water out in Miyako's open mouth. Her breath is fast and pained.
She coughs and chokes, a little, but she swallows it, and makes a small, wretched sound.
Laoidheach becomes aware that she is probably unbearably thirsty and wrings out more water in her mouth. Somewhere around here there's a gas station or something, he could at least steal some water and medication-
And that's a mile or more away, and what could happen to her while he's gone? Hell. There are still people who'd like to see her dead.
They have to get out of this town.
"Laoidheach," Miyako says, not even opening her eyes. There are tears unimaginably hot dripping down her face. "Laoidheach," she says, again, and he takes off the remains of his shirt to dip it in the creek and lay it on top of her. This time she doesn't make a sound, though it has to hurt.
"I'm here, all right?" he answers, smoothing the fabric over her neck. "You're okay," he tells her, even though that's not true.
He holds her tight and scared in his arms and hopes some fever delusion will make her believe him.
Title: while your body burned
'Verse: Nagekawashii; MeYu
Challenge: Red Hot Cinnamon: 1. tinder/kindling
Counts for the Summer Challenge?: Yes.
Toppings/Extras: N/A
Wordcount: 638
Rating: PG
A/N: mid '60s.
She is tinder at the best of times and at any moment she could set herself on fire. He knows it. Everyone who sees her knows it, looks at her paper thin pale skin with the white scars streaking down her neck where the hair's now short and smooth. She has no shame anymore. Let it not be said that his lady is cold or cold-hearted no matter how many people she's ever broken, up to and including Laoidheach himself. She isn't.
She is on fire. Constantly. Her head and her heart and her soul, all of them are burning brightly, and you can see it right beneath her veins, touch her and scorch yourself even when it's freezing cold at night and not a heater or a flame within miles. Warm yourself by her glow.
When she's healthy this is what makes her all the more beautiful, all the more holy. Flat truth is Laoidheach would kneel at her scarred, starved feet if she'd let him, sometimes.
Of course he just might be biased.
But right now she lies mostly sleeping in his arms, one hand huge in comparison to her entire self to cradle her head and the other hand dipping a shred of his shirt in and out of the cold creek to soak her forehead. Her parted lips are dry and cracking, and the touch of her skin honestly burns him. Her breath comes out in smoke puffs against the frigid air and he feels sick himself thinking how high her fever must be staying even out here.
Was she cold or turning blue he'd take her somewhere. Anywhere sheltered, under a bridge if he had to. He'd pour blankets and his own clothes like hot water on her and light fires with whatever was available but as is she's too hot and the only thing for kindling is her own abused flesh.
So he holds her even though she's shaking in her sleep because she's so damn cold even if her body is so damn hot. So fevers go. Sometimes she opens her eyes, dark and shiny and desperate, and begs him for a blanket, and he can't even find anything to say, making her even colder by dripping ice water on her throat and face and chest.
But she just goes back to sleep, or falls back into unconsciousness. He can't tell which. She never once stops shivering.
He soaks the already heating piece of cloth back in the creek, shivering himself both from being out here near the water and having torn up his shirt, and brings his numb hand back up to wring the half clean water out in Miyako's open mouth. Her breath is fast and pained.
She coughs and chokes, a little, but she swallows it, and makes a small, wretched sound.
Laoidheach becomes aware that she is probably unbearably thirsty and wrings out more water in her mouth. Somewhere around here there's a gas station or something, he could at least steal some water and medication-
And that's a mile or more away, and what could happen to her while he's gone? Hell. There are still people who'd like to see her dead.
They have to get out of this town.
"Laoidheach," Miyako says, not even opening her eyes. There are tears unimaginably hot dripping down her face. "Laoidheach," she says, again, and he takes off the remains of his shirt to dip it in the creek and lay it on top of her. This time she doesn't make a sound, though it has to hurt.
"I'm here, all right?" he answers, smoothing the fabric over her neck. "You're okay," he tells her, even though that's not true.
He holds her tight and scared in his arms and hopes some fever delusion will make her believe him.