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rainbowfic2014-07-08 12:04 am
shadowsong26) wrote in rainbowfic2014-07-08 12:04 am
Bistre #5, English Red #19, English Green #11
Name: shadowsong26
Story: As Your Shield
'Verse: Feredar
Colors: Bistre #5. O, dear my lord, Let this breast on which you have leant, Serve now as your shield., English Red #19. Good-night, sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest! (Hamlet, V.ii), English Green #11. Are you a god? would you create me new? Transform me then, and to your power I'll yield. (The Comedy of Errors, III.ii)
Supplies and Materials: bichromatic, eraser (Gay Isshiri AU), oils, pastels (my current Gen + romance card I2 "nightmares"), novelty beads, beading wire, glitter, glue ("...things aren't better left unsaid now...Be courageous and speak your mind")
Word Count: 836
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Isshiri, Mel
Warnings: Discussion of likely impending major character death, discussion of Kit and Ulore's crimes, some internalized ableism, blaming oneself for someone else's crimes. If I missed anything, please let me know.
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always. I will do the canon version of this conversation at some point, too, but I've been sitting on that particular Bistre prompt for way too long and it demands this AU so.
Mel was reading in their tent when Isshiri rejoined him, a knot of sunshine at his side. He set the book aside and kissed the top of the prince's head. "Hey."
"Hi. You didn't have to wait up." There was liquor on his breath, sharp and sweet, and something shadowed in his eyes.
"I wanted to."
Isshiri nodded and leaned into him a little. "I lied to you before."
Mel blinked, but didn't push.
"And, I just thought...y'know, if things do go badly tomorrow..."
"They won't," Mel interrupted. "I'll be right there, the whole time."
"Mel, please."
"Sorry."
Isshiri shifted, burying his face in Mel's shoulder, and Mel wondered if it was so he wouldn't have to meet his eyes. "I don't want there to be any lies, not to you, if I don't come back tomorrow."
"'Sshiri, did something happen, with Andrell, or...?"
The prince looked up at him and smiled a little, shaking his head. "No. Andrell and I just...it's hard to explain. Sorry, I left him when I started getting...I get sad when I drink too much. Can you...can I just get it out, please?"
Mel nodded. "Sorry. I'll stop interruptin'."
"Thank you." Isshiri looked away again, and was quiet for a moment, then said, "My mother is...vicious. And ambitious. And when I was seven, she started...she started to maneuver. My uncle tried to send a message. Using me. My sister stopped him and he died, but he..." He rested his hand on his prosthetic.
"Oh. Oh, gods, 'Sshiri..."
He shook his head. "I don't...I try not to think about it much. Or talk about it, ever. But you're...you're the only important--really important--person in my life who doesn't know, and..." He sighed. "Look, I'm not afraid, of tomorrow. I don't do that. But I don't want...I don't want us to...I wanted you to know." His shoulders were shaking a little
Mel nodded, and held Isshiri close, tangling his hands in his hair, not totally sure what to say to that.
"...it's odd, though," he said softly. "If not for...I would never have met you. Mother would never have sent me into Feredar if I weren't disposable." Isshiri shook his head. "I don't...I don't know how to feel about that."
You're not disposable, Mel almost blurted, but he caught himself before he actually did. Which, he realized, was probably for the best. It would probably have been just about the worst possible thing he could have said. Instead, he just kissed the top of Isshiri's head.
"Sorry," Isshiri said, turning in Mel's arms to kiss him lightly. "Like I said. I get maudlin when I drink too much. And this wasn't exactly how I wanted to spend tonight."
Mel kissed him back. "You don't have to apologize. Thank you, for...for trustin' me with this."
Isshiri shrugged a little, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. His hands drifted down Mel's chest, reaching for his waistband.
He caught his hands. "'Sshiri, wait a minute."
He blinked, and stopped.
"S'long as we're sharin' secrets..." He turned Isshiri's hands over in his, and kissed them lightly. "Reason I was in Feredar...I got a brother, who's vicious, and ambitious, and...he loves me. And, for me, he.." He let go of Isshiri's hands. "I found a box. With hands. He'd cut them off of the people he killed."
"It wasn't your fault," Isshiri said.
Mel shrugged. "It was 'cause of me. So I ran. Maybe he stopped, without me there, remindin' him..."
Isshiri reached up and touched his cheek. "I'm sorry."
Mel smiled a little. "I wouldn't've come to Feredar if I'd never found out. I wouldn't've met you."
His prince smiled back, just as small, and shook his head. "What a pair we make."
He caught his hand and kissed it again. "I'll make sure you come home safe tomorrow, 'Sshiri. I promise."
Isshiri curled against him. "Come home with me. Or, well, not home, since you can't come to mine and...but come back with me. Tomorrow. Please?"
Mel nodded. "'Course."
Isshiri smiled, first sweet, then smoky, and his hands started wandering again.
This time, Mel didn't stop him. They had precious little time together--promises notwithstanding, at least one of them had to be a realist, and Isshiri was too damn...Isshiri to qualify--and they'd spent enough of it on the darkness in their pasts. Isshiri was a knot of sunshine at his side, in his heart, enough to make...
If tonight was all they had, maybe it would be enough. But the last thing he wanted was for tonight to be the end.
As he tilted Isshiri's head up to kiss him properly, he made a promise.
I will bring you home, my love. I will walk us both off the field in however many pieces we fall into. However many hands, however many legs...however many pieces we lose, I will carry what's left home.
I promise.
Story: As Your Shield
'Verse: Feredar
Colors: Bistre #5. O, dear my lord, Let this breast on which you have leant, Serve now as your shield., English Red #19. Good-night, sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest! (Hamlet, V.ii), English Green #11. Are you a god? would you create me new? Transform me then, and to your power I'll yield. (The Comedy of Errors, III.ii)
Supplies and Materials: bichromatic, eraser (Gay Isshiri AU), oils, pastels (my current Gen + romance card I2 "nightmares"), novelty beads, beading wire, glitter, glue ("...things aren't better left unsaid now...Be courageous and speak your mind")
Word Count: 836
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Isshiri, Mel
Warnings: Discussion of likely impending major character death, discussion of Kit and Ulore's crimes, some internalized ableism, blaming oneself for someone else's crimes. If I missed anything, please let me know.
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always. I will do the canon version of this conversation at some point, too, but I've been sitting on that particular Bistre prompt for way too long and it demands this AU so.
Mel was reading in their tent when Isshiri rejoined him, a knot of sunshine at his side. He set the book aside and kissed the top of the prince's head. "Hey."
"Hi. You didn't have to wait up." There was liquor on his breath, sharp and sweet, and something shadowed in his eyes.
"I wanted to."
Isshiri nodded and leaned into him a little. "I lied to you before."
Mel blinked, but didn't push.
"And, I just thought...y'know, if things do go badly tomorrow..."
"They won't," Mel interrupted. "I'll be right there, the whole time."
"Mel, please."
"Sorry."
Isshiri shifted, burying his face in Mel's shoulder, and Mel wondered if it was so he wouldn't have to meet his eyes. "I don't want there to be any lies, not to you, if I don't come back tomorrow."
"'Sshiri, did something happen, with Andrell, or...?"
The prince looked up at him and smiled a little, shaking his head. "No. Andrell and I just...it's hard to explain. Sorry, I left him when I started getting...I get sad when I drink too much. Can you...can I just get it out, please?"
Mel nodded. "Sorry. I'll stop interruptin'."
"Thank you." Isshiri looked away again, and was quiet for a moment, then said, "My mother is...vicious. And ambitious. And when I was seven, she started...she started to maneuver. My uncle tried to send a message. Using me. My sister stopped him and he died, but he..." He rested his hand on his prosthetic.
"Oh. Oh, gods, 'Sshiri..."
He shook his head. "I don't...I try not to think about it much. Or talk about it, ever. But you're...you're the only important--really important--person in my life who doesn't know, and..." He sighed. "Look, I'm not afraid, of tomorrow. I don't do that. But I don't want...I don't want us to...I wanted you to know." His shoulders were shaking a little
Mel nodded, and held Isshiri close, tangling his hands in his hair, not totally sure what to say to that.
"...it's odd, though," he said softly. "If not for...I would never have met you. Mother would never have sent me into Feredar if I weren't disposable." Isshiri shook his head. "I don't...I don't know how to feel about that."
You're not disposable, Mel almost blurted, but he caught himself before he actually did. Which, he realized, was probably for the best. It would probably have been just about the worst possible thing he could have said. Instead, he just kissed the top of Isshiri's head.
"Sorry," Isshiri said, turning in Mel's arms to kiss him lightly. "Like I said. I get maudlin when I drink too much. And this wasn't exactly how I wanted to spend tonight."
Mel kissed him back. "You don't have to apologize. Thank you, for...for trustin' me with this."
Isshiri shrugged a little, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. His hands drifted down Mel's chest, reaching for his waistband.
He caught his hands. "'Sshiri, wait a minute."
He blinked, and stopped.
"S'long as we're sharin' secrets..." He turned Isshiri's hands over in his, and kissed them lightly. "Reason I was in Feredar...I got a brother, who's vicious, and ambitious, and...he loves me. And, for me, he.." He let go of Isshiri's hands. "I found a box. With hands. He'd cut them off of the people he killed."
"It wasn't your fault," Isshiri said.
Mel shrugged. "It was 'cause of me. So I ran. Maybe he stopped, without me there, remindin' him..."
Isshiri reached up and touched his cheek. "I'm sorry."
Mel smiled a little. "I wouldn't've come to Feredar if I'd never found out. I wouldn't've met you."
His prince smiled back, just as small, and shook his head. "What a pair we make."
He caught his hand and kissed it again. "I'll make sure you come home safe tomorrow, 'Sshiri. I promise."
Isshiri curled against him. "Come home with me. Or, well, not home, since you can't come to mine and...but come back with me. Tomorrow. Please?"
Mel nodded. "'Course."
Isshiri smiled, first sweet, then smoky, and his hands started wandering again.
This time, Mel didn't stop him. They had precious little time together--promises notwithstanding, at least one of them had to be a realist, and Isshiri was too damn...Isshiri to qualify--and they'd spent enough of it on the darkness in their pasts. Isshiri was a knot of sunshine at his side, in his heart, enough to make...
If tonight was all they had, maybe it would be enough. But the last thing he wanted was for tonight to be the end.
As he tilted Isshiri's head up to kiss him properly, he made a promise.
I will bring you home, my love. I will walk us both off the field in however many pieces we fall into. However many hands, however many legs...however many pieces we lose, I will carry what's left home.
I promise.
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I don't knooooooow they refuse to confirm for me if they both survive D: I really want them to, too, so I may have to exercise my divine Authorial Powers in a way I rarely do when characters specifically want something.
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Yeah, it's gonna be hard. :( Especially because, in canon, Mel does die. But I might save him in this AU because reasons.
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I just. Learning it. This way. I.
HAPPY WIBBLING ENSUES.
But, yes. I am wibbling and it is your fault.
Thank you for that.
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They're only a couple in this AU, sadly--Isshiri is straight in canon, so they're not. But they're so cute together, I love this AU.
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I STILL REALLY LIKE THIS.