Post by Kit on Apr 13, 2010 22:47:15 GMT 10
Title: Smoke
Rating: PG-13
Length: 273
Prompt: 31_days: 5: We'll be closer than the stars
Summary: Polyam manages not to ruin first moments.
It could have been either of them.
The tea was lukewarm, its smoke scent long faded to a tease of the air around them while they talked. And they had talked, with hands and voice, Polyam catching Daja’s wrist as she interrupted Narmonese adventures, Daja laughing and tugging free, only to twist her hand and meet the other woman’s palm to palm, and their fingers slowly falling against and through each other, interlaced. An eyebrow raise. A flush. The language shifting entirely into sight and touch, and a kiss that came from both of them.
Of course they knocked the glasses.
When it spilled, pooling around their elbows as they leant into each other over Daja’s low table, it was the clatter and shock that had them apart, Daja rising and cleaning before the older Trader had a chance to muffle all her curses and haul herself to her feet.
“Let me.”
“No, don’t be stupid. It was my—”
“—Polyam.”
“Daja.”
Daja let a cloth fall, watching tea soak into the dense, yellow weave. A cleansing colour, after all these years. She sat. “I didn’t think you were nisamohi,” she said, very quiet.
“You didn’t—?” Words cut off with effort Polyam had not known she possessed. You didn’t look at me and assume? Unworthy thoughts, better unshared. Looking at the slow sparks of joy in the younger woman’s face, there was suddenly no need or time for shame. She blushed. Unfamiliar heat. “You didn’t.”
“I did not.” Daja reached forward, touched Polyam’s cheek. Her lip.
“I am glad you corrected me.”
Uncertainties and old shames could not withstand such a smile.
Rating: PG-13
Length: 273
Prompt: 31_days: 5: We'll be closer than the stars
Summary: Polyam manages not to ruin first moments.
It could have been either of them.
The tea was lukewarm, its smoke scent long faded to a tease of the air around them while they talked. And they had talked, with hands and voice, Polyam catching Daja’s wrist as she interrupted Narmonese adventures, Daja laughing and tugging free, only to twist her hand and meet the other woman’s palm to palm, and their fingers slowly falling against and through each other, interlaced. An eyebrow raise. A flush. The language shifting entirely into sight and touch, and a kiss that came from both of them.
Of course they knocked the glasses.
When it spilled, pooling around their elbows as they leant into each other over Daja’s low table, it was the clatter and shock that had them apart, Daja rising and cleaning before the older Trader had a chance to muffle all her curses and haul herself to her feet.
“Let me.”
“No, don’t be stupid. It was my—”
“—Polyam.”
“Daja.”
Daja let a cloth fall, watching tea soak into the dense, yellow weave. A cleansing colour, after all these years. She sat. “I didn’t think you were nisamohi,” she said, very quiet.
“You didn’t—?” Words cut off with effort Polyam had not known she possessed. You didn’t look at me and assume? Unworthy thoughts, better unshared. Looking at the slow sparks of joy in the younger woman’s face, there was suddenly no need or time for shame. She blushed. Unfamiliar heat. “You didn’t.”
“I did not.” Daja reached forward, touched Polyam’s cheek. Her lip.
“I am glad you corrected me.”
Uncertainties and old shames could not withstand such a smile.