music: her most beautiful smile // iwashiro taro (rurouni kenshin)
mood: amused
prompts: the kami, robes;
"If you drop her Seiichiro, I swear, I will have the kami rain down thunder on you until you are split in half!" Bits of crusted moss tumbled down, wrapped around pebbles the size of breadcrumbs. She watched them fall, wide-eyed, her closed mouth pressed against damp cloth. They had clung to the curved walls surrounding her like tiny ivy, and were loosed by the soles of muddied sandals scraping harshly against the stone's surface to gain some footing. The socks that had once been white and clean were caked in what she supposed was the mud that settled beneath the water.
"You are not shugenja, Hideaki -- be quiet! It's hard enough concentrating on coming up this damned well without you cursing hysterics!" The sharp pain in her leg throbbed, and she dared not look for fear of seeing it swollen. Her mother would fret, she knew, as would the rest of those who attended to her. She shivered in her wet clothes, and she tightened her embrace on the neck of this stranger whom she barely knew.
It was an awkward position, to say the least, gravity bending her to it's will so that her face pressed against a warm (but no less wet) shoulder. But she felt no fear of falling, only the certainty that she was safe.
A growl, it's timbre familiar to her ears, bounced off the sides of the well, traveling down and past her like thunder itself. In the closed, cylindrical space, every sound seemed amplified to an ominous pitch, and her brother's frustration seemed to mimic a lion's roar. The laughter that answered cocooned her like the trunk of the trees she sometimes hid in and though she was too young to know the flush of a maiden, she could not hold back a smile.
She looked up, blinking as the sunlight caught on her lashes, blinding her briefly, and she heard his voice come again. "You sound like a Matsu," the tease was light-hearted even as he inched them higher up the shaft of the old well. The cloth that shielded his back would be filthy by now, having borne the task of pressing against the mossy wall, counterpoint to his feet. Only a rope steadied him, the thick cord wound loose about his waist as his only free hand gripped it for balance.
"Stop your yapping Seiichiro and get my sister out of there!"
"Stop distracting me then." He hissed back softly, not intending for his comrade -- her brother -- to hear. Despite the harshness of the white sunlight and the shadows that cut raggedly across his normally stern features, he did not look frightening as some men might to a five-year-old. In later years she would say it was the presence of his smile that had made it so, but she would never truly be certain.
It took nearly half an hour before they finally exited the well, and when they did, it seemed as though everyone -- servants and family alike -- had turned out to see her safe and sound.
She was not scolded for her carelessness as she might have thought. There was no "little girls should not play at the edges of an open well' spiel. Instead, she was swept up into her mother's arms and petted from all sides by half a dozen Cranes. Their words were garbled to her, and she couldn't be bothered to decipher them. She was too busy trying to look over heads, her neck stretched as far as it could go to help her see. When her brother took her from their mother, his embrace fierce, and his face buried in her matted hair, she took the opportunity to wriggle out of his grasp, slipping from between his arms until her feet touched the soft earth below.
The robes of her kinsmen were a forest unto themselves, the cloth shifting like large leaves hanging off constantly moving boughs. She tried to part them, to wade through, but hands caught her by the waist again, pulling her back like the undertow of a current, leaving her with only a glimpse of her rescuer as he jogged up the steps to the main house, the back of his hand attempting to wipe away whatever it was that clung to his brow.
mood: amused
prompts: the kami, robes;
"If you drop her Seiichiro, I swear, I will have the kami rain down thunder on you until you are split in half!" Bits of crusted moss tumbled down, wrapped around pebbles the size of breadcrumbs. She watched them fall, wide-eyed, her closed mouth pressed against damp cloth. They had clung to the curved walls surrounding her like tiny ivy, and were loosed by the soles of muddied sandals scraping harshly against the stone's surface to gain some footing. The socks that had once been white and clean were caked in what she supposed was the mud that settled beneath the water.
"You are not shugenja, Hideaki -- be quiet! It's hard enough concentrating on coming up this damned well without you cursing hysterics!" The sharp pain in her leg throbbed, and she dared not look for fear of seeing it swollen. Her mother would fret, she knew, as would the rest of those who attended to her. She shivered in her wet clothes, and she tightened her embrace on the neck of this stranger whom she barely knew.
It was an awkward position, to say the least, gravity bending her to it's will so that her face pressed against a warm (but no less wet) shoulder. But she felt no fear of falling, only the certainty that she was safe.
A growl, it's timbre familiar to her ears, bounced off the sides of the well, traveling down and past her like thunder itself. In the closed, cylindrical space, every sound seemed amplified to an ominous pitch, and her brother's frustration seemed to mimic a lion's roar. The laughter that answered cocooned her like the trunk of the trees she sometimes hid in and though she was too young to know the flush of a maiden, she could not hold back a smile.
She looked up, blinking as the sunlight caught on her lashes, blinding her briefly, and she heard his voice come again. "You sound like a Matsu," the tease was light-hearted even as he inched them higher up the shaft of the old well. The cloth that shielded his back would be filthy by now, having borne the task of pressing against the mossy wall, counterpoint to his feet. Only a rope steadied him, the thick cord wound loose about his waist as his only free hand gripped it for balance.
"Stop your yapping Seiichiro and get my sister out of there!"
"Stop distracting me then." He hissed back softly, not intending for his comrade -- her brother -- to hear. Despite the harshness of the white sunlight and the shadows that cut raggedly across his normally stern features, he did not look frightening as some men might to a five-year-old. In later years she would say it was the presence of his smile that had made it so, but she would never truly be certain.
It took nearly half an hour before they finally exited the well, and when they did, it seemed as though everyone -- servants and family alike -- had turned out to see her safe and sound.
She was not scolded for her carelessness as she might have thought. There was no "little girls should not play at the edges of an open well' spiel. Instead, she was swept up into her mother's arms and petted from all sides by half a dozen Cranes. Their words were garbled to her, and she couldn't be bothered to decipher them. She was too busy trying to look over heads, her neck stretched as far as it could go to help her see. When her brother took her from their mother, his embrace fierce, and his face buried in her matted hair, she took the opportunity to wriggle out of his grasp, slipping from between his arms until her feet touched the soft earth below.
The robes of her kinsmen were a forest unto themselves, the cloth shifting like large leaves hanging off constantly moving boughs. She tried to part them, to wade through, but hands caught her by the waist again, pulling her back like the undertow of a current, leaving her with only a glimpse of her rescuer as he jogged up the steps to the main house, the back of his hand attempting to wipe away whatever it was that clung to his brow.
4 comments:
Absolutely hilarious! Calling Hideaki a Matsu to his face like that... Oh, and he's freaking out so badly that if the kami didn't answer him, he'd drag them down himself and make them do what he wants them to do.
The fact that this is told from the perspective of a five-year-old child adds a dimension of sweetness to it. And again, there's that hint of foreshadowing with Seiichiro and Kotori... Ah, the shade of things to come...
And again, there's that hint of foreshadowing with Seiichiro and Kotori... Ah, the shade of things to come...
XD Please feel free to swat me if I'm overdoing it. I guess it's just that the idea of it's rooted itself so firmly in my head (it's so damned appealing) that it's sort of dictating where the writing goes.
As for Hideaki, he strikes me as the hyterical type. In reference to his sister, at least. :) Understandable, don't you think, given their age difference? ;p
Why should I swat you for something you haven't done yet?
*snickers*
Oh God... A Crane going hysterical...
XD
I wouldn't put it past him, to be honest, and yes, given the age difference it's completely logical. I love the idea of him going hysterical over her - easiest way to break his poise is to mention his sister, and boom! He goes Matsu on everyone.
*cackles*
I *HEART* Hideaki. BEST. CHARACTER. EVER. XD
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