[team one] silver and cold
Title from an AFI song (don't judge). I had no ideas for this round x_X
--
Place and time both left behind, he turns a complete circle and returns to the starting point none the wiser. All is off-white; not too dazzling but slightly greyish, like the palest silver. There is no sound, and as soon as he realises this the absence becomes deafening, a roaring hiss that detaches itself from his imagination and becomes a hiss in reality that focuses, focuses, and condenses until he can turn again to locate its origin.
She's there - standing or floating, he doesn't register - looking at him with her large, dark eyes, a half-smile almost on her delicate face, silvery strands of hair silking forward over her shoulders. Her dress - a sleeveless, slightly oversized shift - is a darker shade than her hair but equally silver, hanging from her frame like she would be better just in her skin, and Yara realises who she is in that same heartbeat.
"How?" he asks, and Chura shakes her head, a non-answer for a response. He reaches out and she reaches back, and when their hands touch Yara isn't surprised to feel that her skin feels nothing like how it should, that it's cool and textured like a reptile's would be despite the skinlike smoothness visible to his eyes. Yara tries again.
"Where are we?"
Again a shake of the head, and her hair slides in front of her face enough that one eye is covered. She makes no move to fix this, so Yara does so for her. She leans into his touch when he brushes her silvery hair behind her ear, and as his movement slows she twists, turning and moving in a way that is unmistakable: dance.
This, Yara can do. Music is unneeded; their rhythms match without requiring an external beat. She arches backwards and he supports her. She crouches down just as he moves an arm or a leg to pass over her body. He twists and she mirrors him. She shows no shortage of breath despite the speed of their movements, and Yara realises that he feels no need to gasp for air; there is no burn in his lungs because everything is so easy, so light, so natural.
Their pace slows, and eventually they stop. Chura regards him with warmth, a not-quite smile still hovering around the edges of her lips. She turns, and Yara startles because he knows she intends to leave.
"Wait?"
She looks back, hair whispering back to tumble down between her shoulder blades. She shakes her head, and the silver hair and silver dress ripple against each other. The meaning is clear: it's time to go.
Yara reaches toward her, but the white-silver light around them grows brighter, and brighter still, until there is nothing.
--
Kira! I keep trying to LJ tag you as your twitter username instead of kira_shadow :x
--
Place and time both left behind, he turns a complete circle and returns to the starting point none the wiser. All is off-white; not too dazzling but slightly greyish, like the palest silver. There is no sound, and as soon as he realises this the absence becomes deafening, a roaring hiss that detaches itself from his imagination and becomes a hiss in reality that focuses, focuses, and condenses until he can turn again to locate its origin.
She's there - standing or floating, he doesn't register - looking at him with her large, dark eyes, a half-smile almost on her delicate face, silvery strands of hair silking forward over her shoulders. Her dress - a sleeveless, slightly oversized shift - is a darker shade than her hair but equally silver, hanging from her frame like she would be better just in her skin, and Yara realises who she is in that same heartbeat.
"How?" he asks, and Chura shakes her head, a non-answer for a response. He reaches out and she reaches back, and when their hands touch Yara isn't surprised to feel that her skin feels nothing like how it should, that it's cool and textured like a reptile's would be despite the skinlike smoothness visible to his eyes. Yara tries again.
"Where are we?"
Again a shake of the head, and her hair slides in front of her face enough that one eye is covered. She makes no move to fix this, so Yara does so for her. She leans into his touch when he brushes her silvery hair behind her ear, and as his movement slows she twists, turning and moving in a way that is unmistakable: dance.
This, Yara can do. Music is unneeded; their rhythms match without requiring an external beat. She arches backwards and he supports her. She crouches down just as he moves an arm or a leg to pass over her body. He twists and she mirrors him. She shows no shortage of breath despite the speed of their movements, and Yara realises that he feels no need to gasp for air; there is no burn in his lungs because everything is so easy, so light, so natural.
Their pace slows, and eventually they stop. Chura regards him with warmth, a not-quite smile still hovering around the edges of her lips. She turns, and Yara startles because he knows she intends to leave.
"Wait?"
She looks back, hair whispering back to tumble down between her shoulder blades. She shakes her head, and the silver hair and silver dress ripple against each other. The meaning is clear: it's time to go.
Yara reaches toward her, but the white-silver light around them grows brighter, and brighter still, until there is nothing.
--
Kira! I keep trying to LJ tag you as your twitter username instead of kira_shadow :x