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rainbowfic2022-08-26 11:21 pm
shadowsong26) wrote in rainbowfic2022-08-26 11:21 pm
Cerise #7, Amaranth #4
Name: shadowsong26
Story: Truth in Rumors
'Verse: Feredar
Colors: Cerise #7. Bubble bath/long shower, Amaranth #4. Diamond
Supplies and Materials: graffiti (Lilith Faire Day 4: Village Stage), reimaging/sculpture (of this), eraser (Gay Isshiri AU), watercolors, novelty beads ("And I wonder if I ever cross your mind?/For me it happens all the time." Need You Now, Lady Antebellum),
Word Count: 658
Rating: PG
Characters: Mel, Isshiri
Warnings: Background references to war and slavery/imprisonment
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always.
Rumor said that Isshiri was in the camp.
Rumor often lied, but this one...
Mel had felt his heart pounding in his throat from the second it had reached him. Isshiri, here, after two years...it was too good to be true. But it felt real. It had to be real.
He so badly wanted it to be real.
He had heard the news on his way to the part of the river that he'd cordoned off and used a bit of magic to improve as a bathing area, and, as soon as his legs unfroze enough for him to move, he continued on.
It would give him something to do, and space to think.
He had no idea what to expect. Yes, he and Isshiri had exchanged occasional letters since the prince had gone home, but...
That was part of it. Isshiri was a prince, and Mel was an godsdamned oathbreaker. Isshiri deserved better. Besides, he had never given any hint of interest.
Of course, the treacherous, hopeful part of Mel pointed out, of course, what kind of interest would he have hinted at, while you were captives together? What could he have said in a letter that might pass through a hundred hands before reaching you?
He ducked his head under the water to rinse rather than trying to answer.
It doesn't matter, anyway, he told himself, when he resurfaced. Whatever he feels...whatever he feels, I know what I feel.
And if Isshiri was here...
We're still friends, he thought. That's enough for me. We don't need to be anything else.
No matter what he'd thought and dreamed and daydreamed over the past few years, remembering the soft sound of Isshiri's laughter, his smile--his real smile--that came only so often, the shape of his eyes, his hands...
Mel climbed out of the pool, dried himself with a thought and reset it for someone else to use, and headed back towards his tent, planning to take tonight to make sure his thoughts were sorted, and seek out his friend tomorrow, once he was sure that--
"Mel!"
Mel started a little, the sound--the sensation--of that voice after two years...
He turned around, and oh.
Two years made a difference, at nineteen. But if Isshiri was not exactly how he remembered, the time had only improved him.
Isshiri was still lean, certainly leaner than Mel, who still had the hard bulk of a sailor even after so many years on land. But even after the assassination attempt, he looked healthy. With all the warmth of his desert home in his eyes, and smile. He still hadn't grown a beard; his hair was a little longer than when he'd been arrested, but neatly cut, framing his face, brushing the tops of his shoulder, drawing attention to the neckline of his coat, which was a warm, sturdy brown that was solid for traveling and a few shades darker than his skin--
Say something. Anything.
"...Isshiri?" he breathed.
Isshiri took a few quick steps to close what little distance remained, and before Mel knew it, he was being kissed, soft and shy and light and still--
??????!!!!!!
Mel had never pictured it like this. Oh, being kissed by Isshiri, more times than he could count, but--
And then Isshiri was pulling back, something in his face closing off, one of those smiles he wore to mask some kind of inner pain starting to slide up and--
Shit!
Mel pulled him back and kissed him again. Just as light. Just as gentle. Not wanting to--not wanting to ruin this moment with two years of longing.
Isshiri stayed close to him when the kiss broke.
"It's good to see you again," he murmured, resting his head against Mel's shoulder; warm and comfortable, like he'd been made to fit there.
"Yeah," Mel whispered, and then wrapped his arms around Isshiri, holding his beautiful prince and closing his eyes, letting the pure rush of joy wash over them.
Story: Truth in Rumors
'Verse: Feredar
Colors: Cerise #7. Bubble bath/long shower, Amaranth #4. Diamond
Supplies and Materials: graffiti (Lilith Faire Day 4: Village Stage), reimaging/sculpture (of this), eraser (Gay Isshiri AU), watercolors, novelty beads ("And I wonder if I ever cross your mind?/For me it happens all the time." Need You Now, Lady Antebellum),
Word Count: 658
Rating: PG
Characters: Mel, Isshiri
Warnings: Background references to war and slavery/imprisonment
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always.
Rumor said that Isshiri was in the camp.
Rumor often lied, but this one...
Mel had felt his heart pounding in his throat from the second it had reached him. Isshiri, here, after two years...it was too good to be true. But it felt real. It had to be real.
He so badly wanted it to be real.
He had heard the news on his way to the part of the river that he'd cordoned off and used a bit of magic to improve as a bathing area, and, as soon as his legs unfroze enough for him to move, he continued on.
It would give him something to do, and space to think.
He had no idea what to expect. Yes, he and Isshiri had exchanged occasional letters since the prince had gone home, but...
That was part of it. Isshiri was a prince, and Mel was an godsdamned oathbreaker. Isshiri deserved better. Besides, he had never given any hint of interest.
Of course, the treacherous, hopeful part of Mel pointed out, of course, what kind of interest would he have hinted at, while you were captives together? What could he have said in a letter that might pass through a hundred hands before reaching you?
He ducked his head under the water to rinse rather than trying to answer.
It doesn't matter, anyway, he told himself, when he resurfaced. Whatever he feels...whatever he feels, I know what I feel.
And if Isshiri was here...
We're still friends, he thought. That's enough for me. We don't need to be anything else.
No matter what he'd thought and dreamed and daydreamed over the past few years, remembering the soft sound of Isshiri's laughter, his smile--his real smile--that came only so often, the shape of his eyes, his hands...
Mel climbed out of the pool, dried himself with a thought and reset it for someone else to use, and headed back towards his tent, planning to take tonight to make sure his thoughts were sorted, and seek out his friend tomorrow, once he was sure that--
"Mel!"
Mel started a little, the sound--the sensation--of that voice after two years...
He turned around, and oh.
Two years made a difference, at nineteen. But if Isshiri was not exactly how he remembered, the time had only improved him.
Isshiri was still lean, certainly leaner than Mel, who still had the hard bulk of a sailor even after so many years on land. But even after the assassination attempt, he looked healthy. With all the warmth of his desert home in his eyes, and smile. He still hadn't grown a beard; his hair was a little longer than when he'd been arrested, but neatly cut, framing his face, brushing the tops of his shoulder, drawing attention to the neckline of his coat, which was a warm, sturdy brown that was solid for traveling and a few shades darker than his skin--
Say something. Anything.
"...Isshiri?" he breathed.
Isshiri took a few quick steps to close what little distance remained, and before Mel knew it, he was being kissed, soft and shy and light and still--
??????!!!!!!
Mel had never pictured it like this. Oh, being kissed by Isshiri, more times than he could count, but--
And then Isshiri was pulling back, something in his face closing off, one of those smiles he wore to mask some kind of inner pain starting to slide up and--
Shit!
Mel pulled him back and kissed him again. Just as light. Just as gentle. Not wanting to--not wanting to ruin this moment with two years of longing.
Isshiri stayed close to him when the kiss broke.
"It's good to see you again," he murmured, resting his head against Mel's shoulder; warm and comfortable, like he'd been made to fit there.
"Yeah," Mel whispered, and then wrapped his arms around Isshiri, holding his beautiful prince and closing his eyes, letting the pure rush of joy wash over them.
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