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31_days2014-12-13 02:13 pm
seta-suzume.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2014-12-13 02:13 pm
[Dec. 13] [Tales of Legendia] Tracing in Recline
Title: Tracing in Recline
Day/Theme: Dec. 13, 2014 "color spills from the bed"
Series: Tales of Legendia
Character/Pairing: Shirley/Senel, Shirley/Fenimore
Rating: PG
The Legacy had drifted further south, moving with the ocean currents more or less of its own accord as far as Shirley could tell and this was making a warm summer even steamier.
She had a bad habit of tossing and turning when she dreamt, only to awake hot and twisted up in the sheets. They were made of fairly lightweight fabric, but even as the climate of the Legacy veered toward the temporarily tropical, Senel didn't like going entirely without them. She sat up and stretched, kicking the sheets away, allowing them to spill over the edge of the bed, a cascade of Ferines-favored blues and white and turquoises (their weaves tended to be light against the additional weight water might add). The curve of their creases reminded her of waves.
She wiped a hand against sweat beaded below her bangs and turned to look at Senel. He was a deep sleeper for someone who'd lived through so many stressful situations that might have encouraged a more vigilant or anxious approach to rest. Only a corner of sheet was left covering him, stretched from just below one knee and over both his feet. He wouldn't notice in this temperature. Liking to sleep under the sheets was more of a mental thing than related to his physical comfort at times like this.
Shirley scooted to the left, closer to Senel, to move out of the epicenter of the heat that had seeped from her body into the section of the mattress she had occupied for most of the night.
Even though it was in opposition to her general interest in getting cooler, Shirley moved until she was touching Senel, one slim, pale arm sticky against a tanner, muscular one. Leaving her right arm there, with the left she reached over and traced her fingers across his scars.
She had done this before with Fenimore, but the Legacy had been sailing through more temperate waters then off the coast of Gadoria. She remembered most of the time she had spent with Fenimore as cold. As the years passed it was harder to remember whether that had been the season or the circumstances or even just an impression left on her by the feelings that had colored their initial interactions. She had always been wavering then like a reed in the wind. Fenimore was a warm heart in a vault of ice. She had learned to stand strong. Fenimore had melted like the thaw in the spring.
They had curled together in the too-big-for-one puffy bed set aside for her, still bundled up in a good half of their clothes for the sake of warmth as much as shyness. Fenimore's scars were still fresh. Maybe they would have faded with time. Some of Senel's had stayed more starkly visible than others.
Fenimore's arm had trembled at her touch, but her eyes had been as insistent as her voice: "Don't stop unless you're finished. It doesn't bother me any."
If she had touched Fenimore in her sleep, she would have woken. Senel slept on as the dawn crept bright through between the corners of the curtains.
Day/Theme: Dec. 13, 2014 "color spills from the bed"
Series: Tales of Legendia
Character/Pairing: Shirley/Senel, Shirley/Fenimore
Rating: PG
The Legacy had drifted further south, moving with the ocean currents more or less of its own accord as far as Shirley could tell and this was making a warm summer even steamier.
She had a bad habit of tossing and turning when she dreamt, only to awake hot and twisted up in the sheets. They were made of fairly lightweight fabric, but even as the climate of the Legacy veered toward the temporarily tropical, Senel didn't like going entirely without them. She sat up and stretched, kicking the sheets away, allowing them to spill over the edge of the bed, a cascade of Ferines-favored blues and white and turquoises (their weaves tended to be light against the additional weight water might add). The curve of their creases reminded her of waves.
She wiped a hand against sweat beaded below her bangs and turned to look at Senel. He was a deep sleeper for someone who'd lived through so many stressful situations that might have encouraged a more vigilant or anxious approach to rest. Only a corner of sheet was left covering him, stretched from just below one knee and over both his feet. He wouldn't notice in this temperature. Liking to sleep under the sheets was more of a mental thing than related to his physical comfort at times like this.
Shirley scooted to the left, closer to Senel, to move out of the epicenter of the heat that had seeped from her body into the section of the mattress she had occupied for most of the night.
Even though it was in opposition to her general interest in getting cooler, Shirley moved until she was touching Senel, one slim, pale arm sticky against a tanner, muscular one. Leaving her right arm there, with the left she reached over and traced her fingers across his scars.
She had done this before with Fenimore, but the Legacy had been sailing through more temperate waters then off the coast of Gadoria. She remembered most of the time she had spent with Fenimore as cold. As the years passed it was harder to remember whether that had been the season or the circumstances or even just an impression left on her by the feelings that had colored their initial interactions. She had always been wavering then like a reed in the wind. Fenimore was a warm heart in a vault of ice. She had learned to stand strong. Fenimore had melted like the thaw in the spring.
They had curled together in the too-big-for-one puffy bed set aside for her, still bundled up in a good half of their clothes for the sake of warmth as much as shyness. Fenimore's scars were still fresh. Maybe they would have faded with time. Some of Senel's had stayed more starkly visible than others.
Fenimore's arm had trembled at her touch, but her eyes had been as insistent as her voice: "Don't stop unless you're finished. It doesn't bother me any."
If she had touched Fenimore in her sleep, she would have woken. Senel slept on as the dawn crept bright through between the corners of the curtains.