4 pieces: Eddings, Kare Kano, Yu Yu Hakusho, Ouran High Host Club
The last batch of old, unposted 
31_days pieces.
1.
appropriating
12:50 061706
Outside, the sky was sullen. About the fortress, a squall threw its tantrum in indignant bursts of activity. The weather was per usual in the Isle of the Winds, and the Citadel stood mum against the onslaught, the spaces between loose masonry seemly crooning low to appease the jittery flags atop its towers.
Ce’Nedra, also as per usual, was restless, but instead of being moody and ill-tempered, she was rather playful today. That was why she happened to be in her husband’s throne room, sneaking unannounced through one of the winding passageways that enabled the king to move about the castle easily. She tiptoed towards him, hiding an impish grin under an uncharacteristic demurring pose.
Garion was waiting for the Sendarian ambassador to arrive. The gentleman, of course, was punctual to a fault, and the Rivan King made it a point to be there even earlier. Garion was raised in a Sendarian farm, after all; he could get fastidious now and then, a quality that had given his wife much opportunity for mischief.
Too much.
“I see you’ve come to join me, your Majesty,” Garion said.
Ce’nedra sauntered from her hiding place to stand before the basalt throne.
“Yes, dear?” the king’s inquiry was solicitous.
“Oh, nothing.” She waved him away. “I though His Majesty desirous of my company. Perhaps, my inkling was amiss.” She directed one of her devastating smiles at him.
“Ce’nedra,” Garion said firmly. “When you are in this sort of mood, I’ve learned to make sure I know exactly what you mean to offer when you say, ‘company.’ Well?”
His lady sighed theatrically. “Oh, be that way, King Belgarion. I was merely seeking solace from the insurmountable loneliness I have chosen as my fare upon marriage to his Majesty, which comes intermittently and without warning.”
“If my lady would be so kind as to elaborate on the nature of solace she is so desirous of, perhaps I can be of better service,” Garion said dryly.
The little redhead considered this gravely. “A kiss or two would hardly make you a pauper,” she said meekly.
“You do know I have a meeting in two minutes, don’t you?”
“I heard your secretary drone about it this morning, my dear.”
“And you know it’s with the Sendarian ambassador.”
The queen’s eyes widened artfully. “That I missed.”
“Remember the last one?”
“Oh, but he was exceptionally stodgy, dearest.”
“You were half-naked, Ce’nedra. What did you expect?”
The Rivan Queen stamped her foot impatiently. “You’re wasting time,” she accused. “I’m only asking for one measly kiss.”
“I don’t trust you,” Garion declared stubbornly.
“Well, that doesn’t really matter.”
And she marched up to him and kissed him meaningfully.
“There,” she remarked a little later, a tad breathlessly. “That wasn’t so bad.”
“Yes, it was,” the king muttered. “He’s been waiting there for five minutes now.”
“Oh? Well, why didn’t you tell me earlier, dear?”
Ce’nedra, regal and highly dignified, turned and executed a perfect curtsey.
Apparently, Fulrarch of Sendaria took the little redhead’s idiosyncrasies in consideration when he chose his new ambassador. The gentleman graciously bowed back and audaciously winked at the Rivan Queen.
~1515 061706 / June 18: snow on the mountains, flowers in the field
The Belgariad & The Malloreon / Garion, Ce’nedra / Rated G / Word count: 223
2.
complications
The song soared, seemingly percolated into half-tangible images in the open space above. Then, it was amorphous once again, then gone, dissipating into the crowded ceiling that the intimate, husky lighting pretended wasn’t there.
Unbridled and unabashed, the full-bodied voice of the man (boy? Kazuma seemed ageless, eternally young) danced with the dulcet tones of the piano, matched their depths and heights, opposed them in beguiling counterpoints.
Gradually, Tonami Takefumi dissociated from the burgeoning harmony, came to dazedly gaze at the people around him. It was an intimate performance; the elite air of the coat-and-tie affair was belied by the simplicity, the all-compassing nature of the repertoire’s themes. It was the stalwart promise of spring amidst brittle winter. It was February.
Takefumi was flanked by two beauties, whose presence did little to appease the feeling of being out of place when he first stepped into the concert hall. Having been raised lavishly, he was no stranger to formal setting (of course, he had behaved abominably regardless of setting back then), but then he had never been totally at ease with attention. And they had been wandering the earth for so long. . . to take part in the motions of a civilization still present, still intact, was almost as exotic as plunging into one of their studies of obscure dead cultures. (Tsubaki’s passion was Egyptology; his was a bit less focused, a bit less like passion, actually.)
Tonight, even Tsubaki had taken pains to fit in with the company at hand, to blend in with the faces-she failed splendidly. Slim and lithe, she carried the dress well, and he would say she was beautiful, but he thought of her so, anyhow, regardless of attire.
They were in New York for a symposium, where Shibahime Kazuma happened to be performing with the prodigious Arima Reiji. Of course, they had to go.
Speaking of symposiums. . . Takefumi sighed rather unhappily. It wasn’t the first time, definitely not the last. Mostly, they were too polite to ask, but every now and then, somebody did. They said he was talented by his own right-why not expand his studies? Why not grab opportunities? How many positions in established, distinguished institutions had he turned down? It seemed to baffle people that he was content to follow Sakura Tsubaki (who was brilliant enough by herself-she didn’t need him) wherever she chose to roam or explore next, to be just. . . just a hanger-on, they said.
It’s not like he was completely devoid of ambition. It’s not like he had never despaired, never felt himself fall behind as she fleetly moved from one adventure to the next. But still-
Tsubaki nudged him with a tanned elbow, an grin on her face and a wicked glint in her eyes.
Resigned, Kazuma smiled back ruefully and waited for the prank to happen-whatever it was. He knew it was going to be on Tsubasa-chan, Tsubaki’s hands-down favorite target, who was, at the moment, blissfully oblivious to the rest of the world.
Elfin and tiny, the girl sat enraptured by her beloved’s performance-the performer didn’t conceal the fact the song was for her, anyway. Her dreamy visage was utterly enchanting, and Takefumi’s smile became fond. He shared another glance with Tsubaki and firmly shook his head. No.
Tsubaki sighed but nodded. It was hard enough to resist a willful Tsubasa when she wanted something, but with an innocent-faced creature seemingly without guile like this, was impossible. A blossom in full bloom, she was not fatuous or gushy, was not sickly sentimental. She exuded adoration, and it came to her as naturally as breathing.
Takefumi relaxed in his seat, appeased. His colleages had a hard time understanding his situation, but he realized it didn’t bother him, after all.
Scholars did tend to complicate things.
1140 073106
/ August 1: Disparagers of love, now hear my song
Kare Kano / Tonami Takefumi / rated G / word count: 627
3.
Vestiges of loyalty
At night, the desert was cold, freezing with winds like those besieging it tonight. Blued by the moon, the expanse before her seemed like ice. At midday, however, it was an ocean of fire, the exact opposite. The moat that surrounded her stronghold was enchanted indeed, able to transform into two extremes of hell at the dictates of the sun.
Mukuro beheld all this serenely. She did not think or feel, merely stood there and existed, lost, and she didn’t have to, for she blended well with the tableau, as did the various creatures that have reclaimed her former home.
She smiled an invisible half-smile.
“It’s three in the morning,” she said. “I don’t think you’re out for fresh air.”
“Hn.”
“Come out.” She turned to the figure leaning against the crumbling wall. “Well?”
“Just making sure you haven’t gone off to kill yourself,” Hiei said. “Pain in the ass-”
“I doubt enough vestiges of loyalty exist to make it troublesome for you in such a scenario. Makai does not keep her histories written. There won’t be an inquisition for another dead youkai, despite your human friends’ influences on this world.”
“Your bile is killing you too slowly. Fall on a sword.”
“I was being factual, not bitter.” She ran a hand through her red hair. It shimmered like spilled blood. “But it would be a lie if I say I don’t regret anything.”
“Then shut up and say nothing.”
She spoke anyway. “I miss the fanatic devotion of my legions,” she confessed.
The slight man bristled. “You’re either blind or stupid,” he snapped. “Vestiges of loyalty. . . Tch.”
Mukuro smiled in amusement, but it only showed in her single blue eye. “Under the circumstances,” she said. “That was rather romantic, Hiei. And rather disturbing coming from you.”
“Then don’t bait me, you bitch.”
“No,” she agreed amicably. “I don’t want to test aforementioned vestiges of loyalty.”
And she went back into the empty halls of her home and back to her bed, for his sake. Of course, she didn’t tell him that, just as he didn’t tell her he had gotten out of his for her sake.
There were some things harder to give up than power.
~2315 073106
/ August 2:
There is a palace, and the ruined wall
Divides the sand, a very home of tears,
And where love whispered of a thousand years,
The silken footed caterpillars crawled
Yu Yu Hakusho / Mukuro, Hiei / rated PG / Word Count: 367
4.
( Urban Legends )
August 31: Peace it is, till the rising of dawn
Ouran High Host Club / the host club / rated G / word count: 319
The last one is the only posted one. My first Ouran fic attempt. *sigh* It was going to happen sooner or later. It just happened to have happened sooner. =\
31_days pieces.
1.
appropriating
12:50 061706
Outside, the sky was sullen. About the fortress, a squall threw its tantrum in indignant bursts of activity. The weather was per usual in the Isle of the Winds, and the Citadel stood mum against the onslaught, the spaces between loose masonry seemly crooning low to appease the jittery flags atop its towers.
Ce’Nedra, also as per usual, was restless, but instead of being moody and ill-tempered, she was rather playful today. That was why she happened to be in her husband’s throne room, sneaking unannounced through one of the winding passageways that enabled the king to move about the castle easily. She tiptoed towards him, hiding an impish grin under an uncharacteristic demurring pose.
Garion was waiting for the Sendarian ambassador to arrive. The gentleman, of course, was punctual to a fault, and the Rivan King made it a point to be there even earlier. Garion was raised in a Sendarian farm, after all; he could get fastidious now and then, a quality that had given his wife much opportunity for mischief.
Too much.
“I see you’ve come to join me, your Majesty,” Garion said.
Ce’nedra sauntered from her hiding place to stand before the basalt throne.
“Yes, dear?” the king’s inquiry was solicitous.
“Oh, nothing.” She waved him away. “I though His Majesty desirous of my company. Perhaps, my inkling was amiss.” She directed one of her devastating smiles at him.
“Ce’nedra,” Garion said firmly. “When you are in this sort of mood, I’ve learned to make sure I know exactly what you mean to offer when you say, ‘company.’ Well?”
His lady sighed theatrically. “Oh, be that way, King Belgarion. I was merely seeking solace from the insurmountable loneliness I have chosen as my fare upon marriage to his Majesty, which comes intermittently and without warning.”
“If my lady would be so kind as to elaborate on the nature of solace she is so desirous of, perhaps I can be of better service,” Garion said dryly.
The little redhead considered this gravely. “A kiss or two would hardly make you a pauper,” she said meekly.
“You do know I have a meeting in two minutes, don’t you?”
“I heard your secretary drone about it this morning, my dear.”
“And you know it’s with the Sendarian ambassador.”
The queen’s eyes widened artfully. “That I missed.”
“Remember the last one?”
“Oh, but he was exceptionally stodgy, dearest.”
“You were half-naked, Ce’nedra. What did you expect?”
The Rivan Queen stamped her foot impatiently. “You’re wasting time,” she accused. “I’m only asking for one measly kiss.”
“I don’t trust you,” Garion declared stubbornly.
“Well, that doesn’t really matter.”
And she marched up to him and kissed him meaningfully.
“There,” she remarked a little later, a tad breathlessly. “That wasn’t so bad.”
“Yes, it was,” the king muttered. “He’s been waiting there for five minutes now.”
“Oh? Well, why didn’t you tell me earlier, dear?”
Ce’nedra, regal and highly dignified, turned and executed a perfect curtsey.
Apparently, Fulrarch of Sendaria took the little redhead’s idiosyncrasies in consideration when he chose his new ambassador. The gentleman graciously bowed back and audaciously winked at the Rivan Queen.
~1515 061706 / June 18: snow on the mountains, flowers in the field
The Belgariad & The Malloreon / Garion, Ce’nedra / Rated G / Word count: 223
2.
complications
The song soared, seemingly percolated into half-tangible images in the open space above. Then, it was amorphous once again, then gone, dissipating into the crowded ceiling that the intimate, husky lighting pretended wasn’t there.
Unbridled and unabashed, the full-bodied voice of the man (boy? Kazuma seemed ageless, eternally young) danced with the dulcet tones of the piano, matched their depths and heights, opposed them in beguiling counterpoints.
Gradually, Tonami Takefumi dissociated from the burgeoning harmony, came to dazedly gaze at the people around him. It was an intimate performance; the elite air of the coat-and-tie affair was belied by the simplicity, the all-compassing nature of the repertoire’s themes. It was the stalwart promise of spring amidst brittle winter. It was February.
Takefumi was flanked by two beauties, whose presence did little to appease the feeling of being out of place when he first stepped into the concert hall. Having been raised lavishly, he was no stranger to formal setting (of course, he had behaved abominably regardless of setting back then), but then he had never been totally at ease with attention. And they had been wandering the earth for so long. . . to take part in the motions of a civilization still present, still intact, was almost as exotic as plunging into one of their studies of obscure dead cultures. (Tsubaki’s passion was Egyptology; his was a bit less focused, a bit less like passion, actually.)
Tonight, even Tsubaki had taken pains to fit in with the company at hand, to blend in with the faces-she failed splendidly. Slim and lithe, she carried the dress well, and he would say she was beautiful, but he thought of her so, anyhow, regardless of attire.
They were in New York for a symposium, where Shibahime Kazuma happened to be performing with the prodigious Arima Reiji. Of course, they had to go.
Speaking of symposiums. . . Takefumi sighed rather unhappily. It wasn’t the first time, definitely not the last. Mostly, they were too polite to ask, but every now and then, somebody did. They said he was talented by his own right-why not expand his studies? Why not grab opportunities? How many positions in established, distinguished institutions had he turned down? It seemed to baffle people that he was content to follow Sakura Tsubaki (who was brilliant enough by herself-she didn’t need him) wherever she chose to roam or explore next, to be just. . . just a hanger-on, they said.
It’s not like he was completely devoid of ambition. It’s not like he had never despaired, never felt himself fall behind as she fleetly moved from one adventure to the next. But still-
Tsubaki nudged him with a tanned elbow, an grin on her face and a wicked glint in her eyes.
Resigned, Kazuma smiled back ruefully and waited for the prank to happen-whatever it was. He knew it was going to be on Tsubasa-chan, Tsubaki’s hands-down favorite target, who was, at the moment, blissfully oblivious to the rest of the world.
Elfin and tiny, the girl sat enraptured by her beloved’s performance-the performer didn’t conceal the fact the song was for her, anyway. Her dreamy visage was utterly enchanting, and Takefumi’s smile became fond. He shared another glance with Tsubaki and firmly shook his head. No.
Tsubaki sighed but nodded. It was hard enough to resist a willful Tsubasa when she wanted something, but with an innocent-faced creature seemingly without guile like this, was impossible. A blossom in full bloom, she was not fatuous or gushy, was not sickly sentimental. She exuded adoration, and it came to her as naturally as breathing.
Takefumi relaxed in his seat, appeased. His colleages had a hard time understanding his situation, but he realized it didn’t bother him, after all.
Scholars did tend to complicate things.
1140 073106
/ August 1: Disparagers of love, now hear my song
Kare Kano / Tonami Takefumi / rated G / word count: 627
3.
Vestiges of loyalty
At night, the desert was cold, freezing with winds like those besieging it tonight. Blued by the moon, the expanse before her seemed like ice. At midday, however, it was an ocean of fire, the exact opposite. The moat that surrounded her stronghold was enchanted indeed, able to transform into two extremes of hell at the dictates of the sun.
Mukuro beheld all this serenely. She did not think or feel, merely stood there and existed, lost, and she didn’t have to, for she blended well with the tableau, as did the various creatures that have reclaimed her former home.
She smiled an invisible half-smile.
“It’s three in the morning,” she said. “I don’t think you’re out for fresh air.”
“Hn.”
“Come out.” She turned to the figure leaning against the crumbling wall. “Well?”
“Just making sure you haven’t gone off to kill yourself,” Hiei said. “Pain in the ass-”
“I doubt enough vestiges of loyalty exist to make it troublesome for you in such a scenario. Makai does not keep her histories written. There won’t be an inquisition for another dead youkai, despite your human friends’ influences on this world.”
“Your bile is killing you too slowly. Fall on a sword.”
“I was being factual, not bitter.” She ran a hand through her red hair. It shimmered like spilled blood. “But it would be a lie if I say I don’t regret anything.”
“Then shut up and say nothing.”
She spoke anyway. “I miss the fanatic devotion of my legions,” she confessed.
The slight man bristled. “You’re either blind or stupid,” he snapped. “Vestiges of loyalty. . . Tch.”
Mukuro smiled in amusement, but it only showed in her single blue eye. “Under the circumstances,” she said. “That was rather romantic, Hiei. And rather disturbing coming from you.”
“Then don’t bait me, you bitch.”
“No,” she agreed amicably. “I don’t want to test aforementioned vestiges of loyalty.”
And she went back into the empty halls of her home and back to her bed, for his sake. Of course, she didn’t tell him that, just as he didn’t tell her he had gotten out of his for her sake.
There were some things harder to give up than power.
~2315 073106
/ August 2:
There is a palace, and the ruined wall
Divides the sand, a very home of tears,
And where love whispered of a thousand years,
The silken footed caterpillars crawled
Yu Yu Hakusho / Mukuro, Hiei / rated PG / Word Count: 367
4.
( Urban Legends )
August 31: Peace it is, till the rising of dawn
Ouran High Host Club / the host club / rated G / word count: 319
The last one is the only posted one. My first Ouran fic attempt. *sigh* It was going to happen sooner or later. It just happened to have happened sooner. =\