ext_191006 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
acesodapop.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
31_days2007-01-09 10:50 pm
acesodapop.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2007-01-09 10:50 pm
9 january . bleach . these happy golden years
Title: these happy golden years
Day/Theme: 9 jan // what child? there was no child.
Series: bleach
Character/Pairing: byakuya+hisana, (connected to) rukia
Rating: pg!
Their days were marked by short mornings and precious afternoons, and too long nights, wherein he imagined his life without Hisana, found that he couldn't, and spent all the twilight hours making sure she was in her room, there. with him.
"You will marry me." He told her one short morning (the air was cold and every time she stepped outside, he could see the shallow breaths she took with every vapor leaving her lips, gone to the sky) as she served the tea. She hardly even gave a sign that she had heard him at all. (she liked to test his patience, when he remembers her now, knowing very well that he was not a patient man)
Dropped a carefully measured amount of spices into his tea, a pinch of sugar in hers, stirred both with the finely engraved silver spoon, and gracefully sat herself down opposite him.
She took a measured sip while looking down at her lap. "I see."
That was, maddeningly, all she had to say for the rest of the morning.
(in the treasured afternoon the sun came out briefly, for them, for her, and he kissed her neck and she looked up at him with bright eyes and long long lashes and a secret smile)
Days later, she came to him and asked, a bit reproachfully: "Is it because I am a dying woman?"
He paused, his calligraphy quill in mid-stroke. "It is because you are dying," he said. "And living. Both equally infuriate and disturb me, and so the only solution I can see is for you to die and live at my side."
In behavior so unusual and shocking for her, she began to cry, weeping in a way he had never seen in her, and naturally he asked if these were tears of happiness.
"If they are, that is of no consequence," she evenly replied (and he fell even more in love). "I do not waste tears freely, though they fall where they like-- they are reserved for some great tragedy of the heart, something far more important. I will never have tears to shed for you, my lord and husband."
*
He takes her into his arms (he is still very young) and today, she will not respond to his touch. (she is very old, older than she should've lived, and tired, and happy, and angry for it) He kisses the crown of her hair, and is startled by the shallow tangibleness of her, like she is already fast fading and done.
*
Day/Theme: 9 jan // what child? there was no child.
Series: bleach
Character/Pairing: byakuya+hisana, (connected to) rukia
Rating: pg!
Their days were marked by short mornings and precious afternoons, and too long nights, wherein he imagined his life without Hisana, found that he couldn't, and spent all the twilight hours making sure she was in her room, there. with him.
"You will marry me." He told her one short morning (the air was cold and every time she stepped outside, he could see the shallow breaths she took with every vapor leaving her lips, gone to the sky) as she served the tea. She hardly even gave a sign that she had heard him at all. (she liked to test his patience, when he remembers her now, knowing very well that he was not a patient man)
Dropped a carefully measured amount of spices into his tea, a pinch of sugar in hers, stirred both with the finely engraved silver spoon, and gracefully sat herself down opposite him.
She took a measured sip while looking down at her lap. "I see."
That was, maddeningly, all she had to say for the rest of the morning.
(in the treasured afternoon the sun came out briefly, for them, for her, and he kissed her neck and she looked up at him with bright eyes and long long lashes and a secret smile)
Days later, she came to him and asked, a bit reproachfully: "Is it because I am a dying woman?"
He paused, his calligraphy quill in mid-stroke. "It is because you are dying," he said. "And living. Both equally infuriate and disturb me, and so the only solution I can see is for you to die and live at my side."
In behavior so unusual and shocking for her, she began to cry, weeping in a way he had never seen in her, and naturally he asked if these were tears of happiness.
"If they are, that is of no consequence," she evenly replied (and he fell even more in love). "I do not waste tears freely, though they fall where they like-- they are reserved for some great tragedy of the heart, something far more important. I will never have tears to shed for you, my lord and husband."
*
He takes her into his arms (he is still very young) and today, she will not respond to his touch. (she is very old, older than she should've lived, and tired, and happy, and angry for it) He kisses the crown of her hair, and is startled by the shallow tangibleness of her, like she is already fast fading and done.
*