Post by sidonie on Jul 5, 2011 13:07:34 GMT 10
Title: See Better
Rating: PG
Couple/Character: Roald/Zahir
Event: 4x100 word relay
Word Count: 400
Summary: Zahir and Shinko have too much in common to hide from each other.
A/N: The title is taken from King Lear. Mandi deserves much credit and many thanks for suggesting I try using Shinko's voice.
~~~~~~
Pride
All outsiders wear masks when they come to Corus. Shinkokami has trained hers well, and so she remains serene and calm while inwardly cringing away from the prying eyes and babbling, unfamiliar voices. She recognizes others, black Carthakis and bronze-skinned Islanders, with their own variations on her disguise.
She sees the Bazhir squire most every day, attending King Jonathan. He has been in Tortall so long he appears removed from his otherness, all smiles and biting wit, confident, secure in his acceptance.
But then her betrothed brushes by him or murmurs in his ear, his mask shatters, and Shinko sees.
Lust
Roald does his bride-to-be every courtesy. He shows her the Palace, walking arm-in-arm. He speaks with her at meals, laughing at her whispered comments. He leads her through the gardens, blushing and stammering as he hands her a pink-white rose, attempting to compare the petals to her cheeks. He twines uncertain fingers through hers, and Zahir sees.
All he can think is how those hands felt, warm against his skin. He longs to drag his prince away, teach him how those courtesies can turn to passion, but there are too many attentive stares, and so he waits, watches, and burns.
Envy
He thinks she cannot see, or he wouldn't be so blatant.
Perhaps she's being unfair. Perhaps he has no sense of how his actions scream his intentions. Despite his shyness, Shinko's future husband is not a man of masks; he's Tortallan, and emotion is to be flaunted.
All the same, it hurts every time he truly smiles, never at her, always Zahir. She has to look away when their fingers brush, when they stand shoulder-to-shoulder and communicate without speaking.
She could bear misplaced affection in this political marriage, but the Bazhir knows her mask, sees her pain, and does nothing.
Greed
Roald looks splendid, the morning sun soft on his blue velvet tunic. He trails shaking hands over the bright silver stitching, face pale.
“Hello.”
He glances up at Zahir, frozen in the doorway. His arms are locked behind his back, his dusky skin ashen as he takes in the wedding finery. He looks away, blinking back hot tears.
“I don't want this,” he rasps. “Please. I don't want to share you.”
Roald's look is all pity and lingering tenderness. “Zahir, I love Shinko. I'm sorry, but there can be no sharing. Surely you can see that.”
Rating: PG
Couple/Character: Roald/Zahir
Event: 4x100 word relay
Word Count: 400
Summary: Zahir and Shinko have too much in common to hide from each other.
A/N: The title is taken from King Lear. Mandi deserves much credit and many thanks for suggesting I try using Shinko's voice.
~~~~~~
Pride
All outsiders wear masks when they come to Corus. Shinkokami has trained hers well, and so she remains serene and calm while inwardly cringing away from the prying eyes and babbling, unfamiliar voices. She recognizes others, black Carthakis and bronze-skinned Islanders, with their own variations on her disguise.
She sees the Bazhir squire most every day, attending King Jonathan. He has been in Tortall so long he appears removed from his otherness, all smiles and biting wit, confident, secure in his acceptance.
But then her betrothed brushes by him or murmurs in his ear, his mask shatters, and Shinko sees.
Lust
Roald does his bride-to-be every courtesy. He shows her the Palace, walking arm-in-arm. He speaks with her at meals, laughing at her whispered comments. He leads her through the gardens, blushing and stammering as he hands her a pink-white rose, attempting to compare the petals to her cheeks. He twines uncertain fingers through hers, and Zahir sees.
All he can think is how those hands felt, warm against his skin. He longs to drag his prince away, teach him how those courtesies can turn to passion, but there are too many attentive stares, and so he waits, watches, and burns.
Envy
He thinks she cannot see, or he wouldn't be so blatant.
Perhaps she's being unfair. Perhaps he has no sense of how his actions scream his intentions. Despite his shyness, Shinko's future husband is not a man of masks; he's Tortallan, and emotion is to be flaunted.
All the same, it hurts every time he truly smiles, never at her, always Zahir. She has to look away when their fingers brush, when they stand shoulder-to-shoulder and communicate without speaking.
She could bear misplaced affection in this political marriage, but the Bazhir knows her mask, sees her pain, and does nothing.
Greed
Roald looks splendid, the morning sun soft on his blue velvet tunic. He trails shaking hands over the bright silver stitching, face pale.
“Hello.”
He glances up at Zahir, frozen in the doorway. His arms are locked behind his back, his dusky skin ashen as he takes in the wedding finery. He looks away, blinking back hot tears.
“I don't want this,” he rasps. “Please. I don't want to share you.”
Roald's look is all pity and lingering tenderness. “Zahir, I love Shinko. I'm sorry, but there can be no sharing. Surely you can see that.”