Post by wordy on Jan 1, 2015 12:07:36 GMT 10
Title: Only You
Rating: PG
For: sunshinerose4
Prompt: 5)A Roald/Shinko romance
Summary: Love doesn’t fade.
“So mote it be,” Shinkokami whispered, eyes crinkling at how natural the phrase came, these ten years after her journey to a strange country—the country that she now called her home. She touched her fingers to each figure upon the small altar then forced herself to rise; her knees had found many new ways to ache and the square pillow before the altar was worn and thin from over a thousand nights of prayer.
A hand found her elbow. Shinko glanced up with a smile and allowed her husband to help her stand. His hair was not yet mussed from sleep, his night-shirt unwrinkled, but in the morning it was those little details that would draw her eye, make her breath deeply and bury her face back into the crook of his shoulder, wondrously content.
Roald’s blue eyes were like glass, his thoughts unreadable. If she asked what he was thinking, he would tell her, but some things need not be shared; that was a truth that had always held, for the two of them.
Instead, they worked in comfortable silence, removing the decorative pillows from the bed and folding back the blankets. She slipped between the sheets, toes curling appreciatively. Roald took her hand in his and she rolled on her side to face him; his thumb rubbed circles along hers.
“What do you pray for?” he asked.
A daring question for him, she acknowledged; her husband had always been polite beyond reason, and prayer was remarkably personal.
She smiled, to show that she was not the least offended by his asking. He moved closer, as if drawn to kiss her, before apparently remembering the topic at hand.
“It’s a foolish person who prays for anything, except the health and safety of those whom they love,” she said. “There is much that I am thankful to have—that is why I pray so often.”
One of her first prayers each night was to thank the gods for bringing her to a new life; to Tortall; to Roald. Many years had passed since she had left the Islands, yet the memory burned true. She had felt so blessed—inappropriately overjoyed—to have escaped the first marriage that had been arranged for her (and the awful woman who would have been her mother) that she had made her escort stop at every temple on the way to the ship. The Wavewalker; Yama; any lesser god that kept a temple; and even Sakuyo, the tricketer, had received her thanks that day.
Roald interrupted her thoughts with a kiss. She clung to him for a moment, hardly moving, the soft pressure of his lips against hers more than enough to make her heart race.
Drawing back, he said, “That is something we have always held in common, then, for I thanks the gods every day that they allowed me to meet you.”
Rating: PG
For: sunshinerose4
Prompt: 5)A Roald/Shinko romance
Summary: Love doesn’t fade.
“So mote it be,” Shinkokami whispered, eyes crinkling at how natural the phrase came, these ten years after her journey to a strange country—the country that she now called her home. She touched her fingers to each figure upon the small altar then forced herself to rise; her knees had found many new ways to ache and the square pillow before the altar was worn and thin from over a thousand nights of prayer.
A hand found her elbow. Shinko glanced up with a smile and allowed her husband to help her stand. His hair was not yet mussed from sleep, his night-shirt unwrinkled, but in the morning it was those little details that would draw her eye, make her breath deeply and bury her face back into the crook of his shoulder, wondrously content.
Roald’s blue eyes were like glass, his thoughts unreadable. If she asked what he was thinking, he would tell her, but some things need not be shared; that was a truth that had always held, for the two of them.
Instead, they worked in comfortable silence, removing the decorative pillows from the bed and folding back the blankets. She slipped between the sheets, toes curling appreciatively. Roald took her hand in his and she rolled on her side to face him; his thumb rubbed circles along hers.
“What do you pray for?” he asked.
A daring question for him, she acknowledged; her husband had always been polite beyond reason, and prayer was remarkably personal.
She smiled, to show that she was not the least offended by his asking. He moved closer, as if drawn to kiss her, before apparently remembering the topic at hand.
“It’s a foolish person who prays for anything, except the health and safety of those whom they love,” she said. “There is much that I am thankful to have—that is why I pray so often.”
One of her first prayers each night was to thank the gods for bringing her to a new life; to Tortall; to Roald. Many years had passed since she had left the Islands, yet the memory burned true. She had felt so blessed—inappropriately overjoyed—to have escaped the first marriage that had been arranged for her (and the awful woman who would have been her mother) that she had made her escort stop at every temple on the way to the ship. The Wavewalker; Yama; any lesser god that kept a temple; and even Sakuyo, the tricketer, had received her thanks that day.
Roald interrupted her thoughts with a kiss. She clung to him for a moment, hardly moving, the soft pressure of his lips against hers more than enough to make her heart race.
Drawing back, he said, “That is something we have always held in common, then, for I thanks the gods every day that they allowed me to meet you.”