I woke to lips brushing the top of my shoulder, slightly chapped skin catching on mine. No teeth, not yet, just lips and an absence of stubble.
I rolled over to face him; the room was too dark to see him, but I wondered if he could see the question in my eyes anyway. I'd never asked what his full range of vision was, a little because I still wasn't sure if he'd tell me truth if I did. Foxes keep secrets--as much a part of their survival as their tails and the way they change skins like coats. For all the truths Lehseet tells by never changing her skin where we can see, she has as-many secrets in her shop, and the fox she called Trouble was no different.
"I tried," he told me softly in the darkness, in the voice I thought might be his real one, the one he spoke to me in--the one he'd spoken to my mother in, and I could barely focus on his words with that thought for distraction. "Knew I should believe you when you told me I was unwelcome--I've seen you guard your borders."
He sighed, breath curling across my chest and ruffling the hairs pulled loose from my braid. "And yet there you were, going back to where we met and not a guarding-wall in sight. And then I couldn't get your smile out of my head--the one you don't give your brothers. Just me, when I've done something right." And that was the back of a claw, brushing down my arm to my palm, ticklish and sparking at my skin at once.
"I even wondered if you'd go for a cheese knife again," he continued, and was that a laugh in his voice? I suppressed the automatic wish-and-reach for light, felt his fingers twitch against my arm as I did. "But I couldn't let it stand, as it'd been left--and I don't know if I should apologise for pushing, or sing triumph in any house that will have me."
I flicked his fingers for that, then took a slightly shaky breath of my own. "Don't make a song of me, fox."
And then he was laughing, and I didn't know why, but there was unmistakable truth in the timbre, the way his chest vibrated in my bed and against my skin, and I felt myself smiling.
"I--" I bit my lip, as the laughter faded, then forced the words free, "I'm glad that you didn't let it go."
He lifted my hand in his at that, kissed the back and palm before he spoke. "So am I."
Re: "confessions! confessions!" - Some Kind of Love Song, Arianhrod and TakashitaennynAugust 10 2010, 16:30:17 UTC
They meet (she chops off his tail), he follows her into the Trickwood, they're hanging around together/he's still following her but she's minding less, she sends him away, he comes back (she fails to chop off his tail), and only then start building an intimate relationship.
Re: "confessions! confessions!" - Some Kind of Love Song, Arianhrod and TakashiklgaffneyAugust 22 2010, 17:37:50 UTC
..hard to pick out a line, and i can't figure out if it's because there's so many, or because most everything lies between them. so you'll have to settle for general adoration this time. *prrrs at*
Re: "confessions! confessions!" - Some Kind of Love Song, Arianhrod and TakashitaennynAugust 22 2010, 19:20:28 UTC
Even writing her in first tends to have a lot lying between the lines. It's interesting (sometimes frustrating)--especially given that she is occasionally prone to really dramatic gestures for all the restrained.
I woke to lips brushing the top of my shoulder, slightly chapped skin catching on mine. No teeth, not yet, just lips and an absence of stubble.
I rolled over to face him; the room was too dark to see him, but I wondered if he could see the question in my eyes anyway. I'd never asked what his full range of vision was, a little because I still wasn't sure if he'd tell me truth if I did. Foxes keep secrets--as much a part of their survival as their tails and the way they change skins like coats. For all the truths Lehseet tells by never changing her skin where we can see, she has as-many secrets in her shop, and the fox she called Trouble was no different.
"I tried," he told me softly in the darkness, in the voice I thought might be his real one, the one he spoke to me in--the one he'd spoken to my mother in, and I could barely focus on his words with that thought for distraction. "Knew I should believe you when you told me I was unwelcome--I've seen you guard your borders."
He sighed, breath curling across my chest and ruffling the hairs pulled loose from my braid. "And yet there you were, going back to where we met and not a guarding-wall in sight. And then I couldn't get your smile out of my head--the one you don't give your brothers. Just me, when I've done something right." And that was the back of a claw, brushing down my arm to my palm, ticklish and sparking at my skin at once.
"I even wondered if you'd go for a cheese knife again," he continued, and was that a laugh in his voice? I suppressed the automatic wish-and-reach for light, felt his fingers twitch against my arm as I did. "But I couldn't let it stand, as it'd been left--and I don't know if I should apologise for pushing, or sing triumph in any house that will have me."
I flicked his fingers for that, then took a slightly shaky breath of my own. "Don't make a song of me, fox."
And then he was laughing, and I didn't know why, but there was unmistakable truth in the timbre, the way his chest vibrated in my bed and against my skin, and I felt myself smiling.
"I--" I bit my lip, as the laughter faded, then forced the words free, "I'm glad that you didn't let it go."
He lifted my hand in his at that, kissed the back and palm before he spoke. "So am I."
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