Highlights [February 21st] [Tomoyo/Sakura] [Cardcaptor Sakura]
Title :: Highlights
Prompt :: February 21st, “Icarus also flew” [31_days]
Pairing :: Tomoyo/Sakura; light Syaoran/Sakura implied
Rating :: G
Wordcount :: 625
Summary :: There was once a girl who flew.
Even after all the cards have been caught and claimed, safely stored away with Sakura’s own name imprinted upon them, there are still nights where she cannot sleep. Nights where she will toss and turn for what seems like hours, as if her nerves are spoiling for an adventure that has not yet arrived; nights where she will still find herself reaching for the phone and punching in the number she knows by heart, just as she used to do.
She knows, too, that no matter the hour, Tomoyo will always answer.
“You can’t sleep, Sakura-chan?” The other girl’s immediate greeting sounds completely composed, even more awake than Sakura herself feels; as though Tomoyo had simply been sitting up with a cup of cocoa and waiting for the phone to ring.
As though Tomoyo knew.
“Not…not really, Tomoyo-chan.” Sakura is now long beyond being surprised by either the response or the swiftness of it, and simply settles back more comfortably against the pillows as one hand clutches at the phone.
Somehow, Tomoyo always knows.
“Do you sense something?” This is perfunctory, and makes Sakura smile: Tomoyo would have been able to tell from the sound of her voice alone were that the case, and she shakes her head as if Tomoyo could see.
“I just can’t sleep.”
“Ah.” A pause, in which she imagines Tomoyo also rearranging herself more comfortably in her bed. “Would you like me to tell you a bedtime story, then?”
Simultaneous giggles, soft and sweetly high, and then:
“Please.”
This is, by now, a familiar routine. Tomoyo will spend the nights telling her stories, while Sakura snuggles into blankets and Keroboros will half-heartedly glare as best a stuffed toy can; and in the mornings they go to school sleepy-eyed but smiling, tightly clasping hands.
Sakura doesn’t sleep well, sometimes, since Syaoran went away, but she doesn’t complain. Everything will be all right, she whispers beneath her breath like her own private prayer, especially with Tomoyo here.
And this is Tomoyo’s favourite story to tell:
There was once a girl who flew, born away from the ground on the most beautiful of magic wings.
The earth and the trees were saddened by her departure, by the fact she no longer walked on and among them, by the fact she had ascended far above where they could reach; for they all loved her as though she were their master.
But the sun, oh the sun - how jealous was it as it watched her rise!
“This cannot be permitted,” said the sun, words punctuated by a flare of heat. “This girl cannot remain in the sky, for she will steal all attention away from my light.”
And the sun brought forth its harshest of lights, its hottest of rays, and began to try and melt those wings, to send her spiraling back down from its own domain.
But the girl only smiled, closing her eyes and tilting her face back in greeting. She opened her arms to light, embracing it as best she could even for all of its unpleasant intentions, and the sun itself could not help but be charmed.
“You may stay! Forever!” the sun cried to the girl, and she laughed in answer. She could not bring herself to leave her friends on the earth behind, after all, and would soon have to return to them.
But the sun’s light was as all-encompassing as the girl’s own arms, and had just as far a reach. And she had taught them that there was no need for any of them to ever be apart.
“See, Sakura-chan?” Tomoyo whispers, even though she knows that Sakura had long ago finally drifted to sleep on the other end of the line. “Some heroes never fall.”
Prompt :: February 21st, “Icarus also flew” [31_days]
Pairing :: Tomoyo/Sakura; light Syaoran/Sakura implied
Rating :: G
Wordcount :: 625
Summary :: There was once a girl who flew.
Even after all the cards have been caught and claimed, safely stored away with Sakura’s own name imprinted upon them, there are still nights where she cannot sleep. Nights where she will toss and turn for what seems like hours, as if her nerves are spoiling for an adventure that has not yet arrived; nights where she will still find herself reaching for the phone and punching in the number she knows by heart, just as she used to do.
She knows, too, that no matter the hour, Tomoyo will always answer.
“You can’t sleep, Sakura-chan?” The other girl’s immediate greeting sounds completely composed, even more awake than Sakura herself feels; as though Tomoyo had simply been sitting up with a cup of cocoa and waiting for the phone to ring.
As though Tomoyo knew.
“Not…not really, Tomoyo-chan.” Sakura is now long beyond being surprised by either the response or the swiftness of it, and simply settles back more comfortably against the pillows as one hand clutches at the phone.
Somehow, Tomoyo always knows.
“Do you sense something?” This is perfunctory, and makes Sakura smile: Tomoyo would have been able to tell from the sound of her voice alone were that the case, and she shakes her head as if Tomoyo could see.
“I just can’t sleep.”
“Ah.” A pause, in which she imagines Tomoyo also rearranging herself more comfortably in her bed. “Would you like me to tell you a bedtime story, then?”
Simultaneous giggles, soft and sweetly high, and then:
“Please.”
This is, by now, a familiar routine. Tomoyo will spend the nights telling her stories, while Sakura snuggles into blankets and Keroboros will half-heartedly glare as best a stuffed toy can; and in the mornings they go to school sleepy-eyed but smiling, tightly clasping hands.
Sakura doesn’t sleep well, sometimes, since Syaoran went away, but she doesn’t complain. Everything will be all right, she whispers beneath her breath like her own private prayer, especially with Tomoyo here.
And this is Tomoyo’s favourite story to tell:
There was once a girl who flew, born away from the ground on the most beautiful of magic wings.
The earth and the trees were saddened by her departure, by the fact she no longer walked on and among them, by the fact she had ascended far above where they could reach; for they all loved her as though she were their master.
But the sun, oh the sun - how jealous was it as it watched her rise!
“This cannot be permitted,” said the sun, words punctuated by a flare of heat. “This girl cannot remain in the sky, for she will steal all attention away from my light.”
And the sun brought forth its harshest of lights, its hottest of rays, and began to try and melt those wings, to send her spiraling back down from its own domain.
But the girl only smiled, closing her eyes and tilting her face back in greeting. She opened her arms to light, embracing it as best she could even for all of its unpleasant intentions, and the sun itself could not help but be charmed.
“You may stay! Forever!” the sun cried to the girl, and she laughed in answer. She could not bring herself to leave her friends on the earth behind, after all, and would soon have to return to them.
But the sun’s light was as all-encompassing as the girl’s own arms, and had just as far a reach. And she had taught them that there was no need for any of them to ever be apart.
“See, Sakura-chan?” Tomoyo whispers, even though she knows that Sakura had long ago finally drifted to sleep on the other end of the line. “Some heroes never fall.”