[Fire Emblem 9/10] Nine Tails
Mar. 11th, 2010 09:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
runicloreTitle: Nine Tails
Author: Myaru
Rating: K
Warnings: it's Heian-flavored, not strictly historic.
Word count: 1526
Prompt: Fire Emblem 10, Sephiran/author's choice or gen: au - Heian era au with Sephiran as a kitsune trying to destroy the court.
Summary: n/a
A/N: by necessity, this is a small snip of what would be a long story. (We're talking chapters and chapters. Long.) Also, believe it or not, this would eventually become a Sephiran/Zelgius fic. Sanaki had to be involved, because her hair is perfect for this AU. I'm not kidding.
.........................................................
Sanaki twirled a yellow maple leaf by the stem, watching it twist and bow against the dark backdrop of the floor and the shade cast by her blinds, while a maid pulled the heavy length of her hair from her neck to fan the sweaty skin. Two months into autumn, the accursed place was hot as summer at the capitol. Zelgius told her the weather was temperate, that winter wouldn't bury them in snow, but what he forgot to mention was the sweltering daylight - the constant burn of sunshine on the roof, on the overgrown garden outside, so all she smelled was tangled weeds and the heated cedar of the ceiling beams. She hoped he was miserable outside swinging that sword around.
My lady, the maid said, combing her hair from beneath, pulling slightly. shall I tie it back?
Sanaki waved a 'yes' over her shoulder and pulled a folding fan from behind the tie of her inner robe, flicked it open. "When you're done with that, go to the storage room and find my summer robes. And make sure Ame comes back with the incense - she's already taking too long." She turned her face away when the maid tried to argue - she wasn't supposed to change back, that was bad luck, it would embarrass her - and said it must be easy to talk about the virtues of dressing properly for the season when one was wearing only two layers instead of six. The other woman fell silent, twisting the paper tie around Sanaki's tail of hair, and eventually left, her heavy layers dragging and slithering on the floor.
The curtain leading to the hallway fell, and silence descended. Herons cried far off, beyond the rogue tangles of the garden; cicadas screed in the trees, frogs croaked in from the bed of the ornamental lake, which still hid beneath a crumbling skin of dead leaves and refused to entertain her. They'd only just moved. The house was built long, so the space between her quarters that her brother's stretched far enough to give her privacy, with the garden growing and waving in-between, twice as large as they would have been able to maintain in the capitol at their rank and station. Once it was trimmed back into order it would be lovely. Pines separated them from the peasant plains beyond the fences; cypress and maple decorated the false rises, the shore of the lake. Wisteria carpeted the roof. Sanaki knew she wasn't being fair to the place, but what exile expected to fall in love with her prison? She never asked for a larger garden; she didn't ask to be sent a month distant from the capitol, where Zelgius may possess higher rank, but her prospects at court sank farther and farther to the bottom of the mossy, slimy pit their father had made of the family and its reputation.
It isn't a complete misfortune, Zelgius had dared to say. There are likely men of higher rank who seek a match from the capitol. You may still marry well-- as if she should be happy to marry a provincial lord and waste her life in a backwater. You're still young enough that we might be able to wait...
Sanaki snapped her fan closed and threw it at the curtain. It flew wide, snapping from the stand past the linen to clatter on the verandah outside. Claws scraped, and there was a little thump. She sighed. "Yuki? I'm sorry." She waited, but the expected meow didn't come. "Yuki?" she called again, her lips turning down. He never gave up a chance to talk back.
"That is quite a temper you have," a voice said from beyond the curtain, and a long shadow cast itself across her curtain. "Not at all a desirable trait in a woman of marrying age."
She stared at the shadow, watched it reform itself as the intruder sank down to sit, distorting from a shape like her brothers to-- small, slender. Feline. "What business do you have here?" Sanaki's voice came out hoarse. She cleared her throat and watched his tails swing, one, two, three, four, five-- "Vika!"
Her voice fell flat, deprived even of its echo in the large, empty space of her room.
"Loud, too," her visitor said, and sighed. "I heard you complaining to your maids about moving out here, but a distant province like Sagami is perfectly suited to one of your habits, I would say."
"You--" Sanaki wished she had her fan back so she could throw it again. "You're trespassing on my brother's land. Get out."
"When I followed you all the way from the capitol? I think not."
Cold trickled down Sanaki's spine, where her hitoe stuck to the skin, damp and hot. Her robes swaddled her like a cocoon. The air smelled like green grass and tasted bitter, like medicine, and the cicada song had stopped; the frogs were silent. Was it her? Was she trapped in his spell, or did this intruder have a presence so heavy the land itself hushed wherever his feet tread?
"I knew your father while he lived," the kitsune said, his voice pitched lower and the edge of his laughter gone. "He was a man of many sins, but not the ones they accused him of. I'm sure he did not want to consign you to this fate." She watched the tip of a shadow tail twitch. It reminded her of Yuki's tail - fluffier, perhaps, but long and agile. Was he in man-shape out there, or in the form of a fox? "As I was not able to repay my debt in his lifetime, I offer my services to his children... if they accept."
"I never heard anything regarding my father and a kitsune." Sanaki would have to scoot closer to peek past the curtain. She stared at the sliver of light between the linen and the wood stand and worked an unrouged lip between her teeth.
"What would you know of your father's business, silly girl?"
"Who would believe a lying fox, anyway?" she snapped, clenching her hands and wishing again for her fan. The wooden pillow on her sleeping platform would have been satisfying to throw in its own way. Where was Vika, anyway? What was taking her so long? They were supposed to know where her clothes were stored. "Go talk to my brother, if you're telling the truth - even if you're not, Zelgius will probably believe you."
"But my lady--" The curtain folded open. Sunlight shafted inside, blinded her. "I would rather talk to you."
Sanaki turned her face away quickly, eyes squeezed closed. The scent of baking grass intensified, heating the side of her face, and then cool shadow caressed her cheek, washing her with the sweet smell of blossoms and syrupy, resinous incense. She heard the slither of long silk sleeves beside her, felt them brush her fingers; a hand closed over her mouth. Her eyes snapped open.
"I'm not lying," he said, sinking to his knees on the mat beside her. His face stood out white as powder in the shadows of her room; he leaned in, bending over her while his other hand held her still by the hair at the nape of her neck. Long lashes brushed against hers, and she saw the perfect blue of a summer lake in his eyes-- deep blue, and nothing else, aside from the ends of his dark hair brushing her knuckles. All she could tell was that it hung loose, like her own.
This was a kitsune? He certainly did look as if he'd just dropped down from the heavens-- to torment her. "What--" She licked her lips and wished she'd let Vika apply powder to her face, at the least; the dye blackening her teeth had faded during their journey from the capitol, her cosmetics were lost--
His skin tasted salty. She watched his eyes narrow, his lashes sweeping lower. "I owed him my life," the kitsune said, his hand moving from her mouth to stroke over her throat, down to her collar. "Is that enough for you, Lady Sanaki?"
She wanted to say yes. Yes, that was more than enough. Her skin tingled. Sanaki clenched her fingers into his white sleeve. "Won't you explain why, first?"
This time his eyes narrowed in a laugh. "Smart girl." He turned aside, brushed his cheek against hers. His breath tickled her ear, sent a chill down her spine. "Yes, of course I will." His fingers combed through her hair, sweeping it over her shoulder, and she felt his nose, his lips, against the side of her neck. She reached up to touch his hair, stroke the length, and felt him smile. "Later."
..............................................................................
If I were going to write this seriously, I'd make more of an attempt to hammer historical custom and detail into place. However, despite my love for the period and these characters, this isn't a story I want to pursue as more than a fun snip here and there.
I should bottle this formula and try not to touch it ever again.
Author: Myaru
Rating: K
Warnings: it's Heian-flavored, not strictly historic.
Word count: 1526
Prompt: Fire Emblem 10, Sephiran/author's choice or gen: au - Heian era au with Sephiran as a kitsune trying to destroy the court.
Summary: n/a
A/N: by necessity, this is a small snip of what would be a long story. (We're talking chapters and chapters. Long.) Also, believe it or not, this would eventually become a Sephiran/Zelgius fic. Sanaki had to be involved, because her hair is perfect for this AU. I'm not kidding.
.........................................................
Sanaki twirled a yellow maple leaf by the stem, watching it twist and bow against the dark backdrop of the floor and the shade cast by her blinds, while a maid pulled the heavy length of her hair from her neck to fan the sweaty skin. Two months into autumn, the accursed place was hot as summer at the capitol. Zelgius told her the weather was temperate, that winter wouldn't bury them in snow, but what he forgot to mention was the sweltering daylight - the constant burn of sunshine on the roof, on the overgrown garden outside, so all she smelled was tangled weeds and the heated cedar of the ceiling beams. She hoped he was miserable outside swinging that sword around.
My lady, the maid said, combing her hair from beneath, pulling slightly. shall I tie it back?
Sanaki waved a 'yes' over her shoulder and pulled a folding fan from behind the tie of her inner robe, flicked it open. "When you're done with that, go to the storage room and find my summer robes. And make sure Ame comes back with the incense - she's already taking too long." She turned her face away when the maid tried to argue - she wasn't supposed to change back, that was bad luck, it would embarrass her - and said it must be easy to talk about the virtues of dressing properly for the season when one was wearing only two layers instead of six. The other woman fell silent, twisting the paper tie around Sanaki's tail of hair, and eventually left, her heavy layers dragging and slithering on the floor.
The curtain leading to the hallway fell, and silence descended. Herons cried far off, beyond the rogue tangles of the garden; cicadas screed in the trees, frogs croaked in from the bed of the ornamental lake, which still hid beneath a crumbling skin of dead leaves and refused to entertain her. They'd only just moved. The house was built long, so the space between her quarters that her brother's stretched far enough to give her privacy, with the garden growing and waving in-between, twice as large as they would have been able to maintain in the capitol at their rank and station. Once it was trimmed back into order it would be lovely. Pines separated them from the peasant plains beyond the fences; cypress and maple decorated the false rises, the shore of the lake. Wisteria carpeted the roof. Sanaki knew she wasn't being fair to the place, but what exile expected to fall in love with her prison? She never asked for a larger garden; she didn't ask to be sent a month distant from the capitol, where Zelgius may possess higher rank, but her prospects at court sank farther and farther to the bottom of the mossy, slimy pit their father had made of the family and its reputation.
It isn't a complete misfortune, Zelgius had dared to say. There are likely men of higher rank who seek a match from the capitol. You may still marry well-- as if she should be happy to marry a provincial lord and waste her life in a backwater. You're still young enough that we might be able to wait...
Sanaki snapped her fan closed and threw it at the curtain. It flew wide, snapping from the stand past the linen to clatter on the verandah outside. Claws scraped, and there was a little thump. She sighed. "Yuki? I'm sorry." She waited, but the expected meow didn't come. "Yuki?" she called again, her lips turning down. He never gave up a chance to talk back.
"That is quite a temper you have," a voice said from beyond the curtain, and a long shadow cast itself across her curtain. "Not at all a desirable trait in a woman of marrying age."
She stared at the shadow, watched it reform itself as the intruder sank down to sit, distorting from a shape like her brothers to-- small, slender. Feline. "What business do you have here?" Sanaki's voice came out hoarse. She cleared her throat and watched his tails swing, one, two, three, four, five-- "Vika!"
Her voice fell flat, deprived even of its echo in the large, empty space of her room.
"Loud, too," her visitor said, and sighed. "I heard you complaining to your maids about moving out here, but a distant province like Sagami is perfectly suited to one of your habits, I would say."
"You--" Sanaki wished she had her fan back so she could throw it again. "You're trespassing on my brother's land. Get out."
"When I followed you all the way from the capitol? I think not."
Cold trickled down Sanaki's spine, where her hitoe stuck to the skin, damp and hot. Her robes swaddled her like a cocoon. The air smelled like green grass and tasted bitter, like medicine, and the cicada song had stopped; the frogs were silent. Was it her? Was she trapped in his spell, or did this intruder have a presence so heavy the land itself hushed wherever his feet tread?
"I knew your father while he lived," the kitsune said, his voice pitched lower and the edge of his laughter gone. "He was a man of many sins, but not the ones they accused him of. I'm sure he did not want to consign you to this fate." She watched the tip of a shadow tail twitch. It reminded her of Yuki's tail - fluffier, perhaps, but long and agile. Was he in man-shape out there, or in the form of a fox? "As I was not able to repay my debt in his lifetime, I offer my services to his children... if they accept."
"I never heard anything regarding my father and a kitsune." Sanaki would have to scoot closer to peek past the curtain. She stared at the sliver of light between the linen and the wood stand and worked an unrouged lip between her teeth.
"What would you know of your father's business, silly girl?"
"Who would believe a lying fox, anyway?" she snapped, clenching her hands and wishing again for her fan. The wooden pillow on her sleeping platform would have been satisfying to throw in its own way. Where was Vika, anyway? What was taking her so long? They were supposed to know where her clothes were stored. "Go talk to my brother, if you're telling the truth - even if you're not, Zelgius will probably believe you."
"But my lady--" The curtain folded open. Sunlight shafted inside, blinded her. "I would rather talk to you."
Sanaki turned her face away quickly, eyes squeezed closed. The scent of baking grass intensified, heating the side of her face, and then cool shadow caressed her cheek, washing her with the sweet smell of blossoms and syrupy, resinous incense. She heard the slither of long silk sleeves beside her, felt them brush her fingers; a hand closed over her mouth. Her eyes snapped open.
"I'm not lying," he said, sinking to his knees on the mat beside her. His face stood out white as powder in the shadows of her room; he leaned in, bending over her while his other hand held her still by the hair at the nape of her neck. Long lashes brushed against hers, and she saw the perfect blue of a summer lake in his eyes-- deep blue, and nothing else, aside from the ends of his dark hair brushing her knuckles. All she could tell was that it hung loose, like her own.
This was a kitsune? He certainly did look as if he'd just dropped down from the heavens-- to torment her. "What--" She licked her lips and wished she'd let Vika apply powder to her face, at the least; the dye blackening her teeth had faded during their journey from the capitol, her cosmetics were lost--
His skin tasted salty. She watched his eyes narrow, his lashes sweeping lower. "I owed him my life," the kitsune said, his hand moving from her mouth to stroke over her throat, down to her collar. "Is that enough for you, Lady Sanaki?"
She wanted to say yes. Yes, that was more than enough. Her skin tingled. Sanaki clenched her fingers into his white sleeve. "Won't you explain why, first?"
This time his eyes narrowed in a laugh. "Smart girl." He turned aside, brushed his cheek against hers. His breath tickled her ear, sent a chill down her spine. "Yes, of course I will." His fingers combed through her hair, sweeping it over her shoulder, and she felt his nose, his lips, against the side of her neck. She reached up to touch his hair, stroke the length, and felt him smile. "Later."
..............................................................................
If I were going to write this seriously, I'd make more of an attempt to hammer historical custom and detail into place. However, despite my love for the period and these characters, this isn't a story I want to pursue as more than a fun snip here and there.
I should bottle this formula and try not to touch it ever again.