Post by Kit on Apr 24, 2011 5:21:36 GMT 10
Title: Brink and breaking
Rating: R
Word count: 148 excluding the poem, which IS mine but was not originally written for this purpose. It just suddenly seemed to fit.
Pairing: Lark/Rosethorn
Round/Fight: 2/B
Warnings: implied sex
Summary: Hearts and Houses universe. Rosethorn is curious.
you would like this dress, I think
birds softly blue and painted on
against white that takes on skin enough
for warmth, its lines smoothly sweet and long
birds softly blue and painted on
my blood beats avian-fast as the body waits to sink
into warmth, its lines smoothly sweet and long
beneath your hand, remade, slick to brink-and-breaking
my blood beats avian fast while my body waits to sink
beneath your hand. Remade, slick to brink-and-breaking
for want of you. Scent, sight and words all gone
intoto warmth, sounds smoothly sweet and long
for want of you. Scent. Sight. Words. All gone
as laughter coils between us in the sheets
beneath our hands. Remade, slick to brink-and-breaking
I press into the curve of your back. No wrong
as laughter coils between us in the sheets
against white that takes on skin enough
for the bed to take on stains; more idelibly ours and us than ink
you would like this dress, I think.
.
“You wore this?”
Rosethorn’s grin was bright and incredulous in the attic as she held up the faint scrap of diaphanous whiteness in both her hands.
Paras laughed. “Sneak.”
“You told me to learn more about you!”
“Still, sneak. And yes. I did.”
“And you moved in it?” Rosethorn smirked. “Sitting very, very still would be scene enough.”
“I thought,” Paras mused, eying the new dedicate who shared her house, “You weren’t supposed to care about worldly things.”
“I care about you.” Rosethorn blushed. “And you—uh.” She swallowed. “You would have been—”
“What would I have been, Rosie?” Paras knelt, lightly caressing one edge of the old, soft silk with its painted screen of birds. She smiled. “Say it.”
“Incredible,” Rosethorn whispered, dry mouthed and half glaring, until thats one, worldly thing laid her hand on one green-draped hip, and she could not think at all.
QC: by Cassandra
Rating: R
Word count: 148 excluding the poem, which IS mine but was not originally written for this purpose. It just suddenly seemed to fit.
Pairing: Lark/Rosethorn
Round/Fight: 2/B
Warnings: implied sex
Summary: Hearts and Houses universe. Rosethorn is curious.
you would like this dress, I think
birds softly blue and painted on
against white that takes on skin enough
for warmth, its lines smoothly sweet and long
birds softly blue and painted on
my blood beats avian-fast as the body waits to sink
into warmth, its lines smoothly sweet and long
beneath your hand, remade, slick to brink-and-breaking
my blood beats avian fast while my body waits to sink
beneath your hand. Remade, slick to brink-and-breaking
for want of you. Scent, sight and words all gone
intoto warmth, sounds smoothly sweet and long
for want of you. Scent. Sight. Words. All gone
as laughter coils between us in the sheets
beneath our hands. Remade, slick to brink-and-breaking
I press into the curve of your back. No wrong
as laughter coils between us in the sheets
against white that takes on skin enough
for the bed to take on stains; more idelibly ours and us than ink
you would like this dress, I think.
.
“You wore this?”
Rosethorn’s grin was bright and incredulous in the attic as she held up the faint scrap of diaphanous whiteness in both her hands.
Paras laughed. “Sneak.”
“You told me to learn more about you!”
“Still, sneak. And yes. I did.”
“And you moved in it?” Rosethorn smirked. “Sitting very, very still would be scene enough.”
“I thought,” Paras mused, eying the new dedicate who shared her house, “You weren’t supposed to care about worldly things.”
“I care about you.” Rosethorn blushed. “And you—uh.” She swallowed. “You would have been—”
“What would I have been, Rosie?” Paras knelt, lightly caressing one edge of the old, soft silk with its painted screen of birds. She smiled. “Say it.”
“Incredible,” Rosethorn whispered, dry mouthed and half glaring, until thats one, worldly thing laid her hand on one green-draped hip, and she could not think at all.
QC: by Cassandra