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said_scarlett) wrote2007-04-29 03:17 pm
said_scarlett) wrote2007-04-29 03:17 pm
Scents of a Woman; Citan/Yui; PG-13
Got bunnied for this little ficlet while I was getting ready to go out. And as I'm on a big Xenogears kick....
Title: Scents Of a Woman
Fandom: Xenogears
Pairing: Citan/Yui
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 700
Spoilers: Full game spoilers
Summary: Yui had changed so much over the years, had worn so many roles as though they were dresses. But some things stayed the same.
When they first met, she had smelled of iron and smoke and sulfur. She had been a wild thing, her eyes full of fire and her blade moving like the strike of a snake. Her cheek had been dirty, smudged with blood and something else. Her skin had been rough, her fingers callused, her hair cut short. She had been something wild, something unexpected, the restless Shevatian soldier with eyes like a goddess.
Perhaps it was her difference from the cold, efficient Solarian soldiers that had drawn him to her. He didn’t know. But he had seen her, clashed with her, tried to kill her before she killed him, and fallen in love with her.
She had smelled like smoke and blood when they first made love, a heated and hurried act. The scents of battle clung to her, coating her in the mark of a warrior. She had screamed like a she-cat, exclamations that sounded more like battlecries than cries of pleasure.
In Solaris, she smelled of expensive perfumes and soap. Cloying smells, thick and heady. Her hair was longer then, and curling. She wore the finely crafted gowns of a Solarian noblewoman, and they clung to her lean frame like a second skin. Lotions smoothed away the calluses on her fingers and palms. She had traded armor for affluence, her sword for an elegant cigarette. But her eyes were still full of fire, full of passion. And she still screamed when they made love, and her nails left deep red lines along his back.
Despite the clothes and the words and the Imperial dinners, she still moved in a way no Solarian woman moved. She still held her head with a pride he could never understand. She was still a wild thing, only now on a loose and gilded leash. And he fell in love with her all over again, because she wore the leash for him and she called out his name with that same fire and passion that lived in her eyes. The restlessness he had once sensed in her still remained, buried under the surface.
Even after the birth of their daughter, her fingers would twitch against tabletops and she’d pace before the giant window that overlooked the city, unable to sit still as servants saw to their every need, her perfume coating her now in scents of a society wife.
In Lahan, she smelled of peaches and strawberries. Natural scents, clinging to her fingers from where she plucked the fruits from the garden. Her hair was long, pinned up atop her head like a farmer’s wife. She wore simple linens now, and an apron when she cooked. There were no servants here. Her fingers were roughened from dish soap and linens and digging in the garden. Her face was smudged with dirt and fruit. And her eyes were still wild, passion and ferocity turned now to matters of housework and child rearing.
She moved more easily now. Somehow, here, away from the floating countries, she slipped her loose leash and remained domesticated. Fingers that had tapped and twitched now knitted and baked. Eyes that had roamed the horizon watched as Midori played, checked the roast, took in the sunset over the mountains. But her hands on her kitchen knives still moved with a practiced precision, slicing meat as easily and skillfully as she had sliced flesh in a former life. She still moved with the grace of a warrior, still kept her sword arm strong and her eyes sharp. She still dragged him into bed, eyes slit and lips curved wickedly. And she still screamed, but now she screamed his name.
Sometimes, Hyuga feared he’d never fully understand her.
Title: Scents Of a Woman
Fandom: Xenogears
Pairing: Citan/Yui
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 700
Spoilers: Full game spoilers
Summary: Yui had changed so much over the years, had worn so many roles as though they were dresses. But some things stayed the same.
When they first met, she had smelled of iron and smoke and sulfur. She had been a wild thing, her eyes full of fire and her blade moving like the strike of a snake. Her cheek had been dirty, smudged with blood and something else. Her skin had been rough, her fingers callused, her hair cut short. She had been something wild, something unexpected, the restless Shevatian soldier with eyes like a goddess.
Perhaps it was her difference from the cold, efficient Solarian soldiers that had drawn him to her. He didn’t know. But he had seen her, clashed with her, tried to kill her before she killed him, and fallen in love with her.
She had smelled like smoke and blood when they first made love, a heated and hurried act. The scents of battle clung to her, coating her in the mark of a warrior. She had screamed like a she-cat, exclamations that sounded more like battlecries than cries of pleasure.
In Solaris, she smelled of expensive perfumes and soap. Cloying smells, thick and heady. Her hair was longer then, and curling. She wore the finely crafted gowns of a Solarian noblewoman, and they clung to her lean frame like a second skin. Lotions smoothed away the calluses on her fingers and palms. She had traded armor for affluence, her sword for an elegant cigarette. But her eyes were still full of fire, full of passion. And she still screamed when they made love, and her nails left deep red lines along his back.
Despite the clothes and the words and the Imperial dinners, she still moved in a way no Solarian woman moved. She still held her head with a pride he could never understand. She was still a wild thing, only now on a loose and gilded leash. And he fell in love with her all over again, because she wore the leash for him and she called out his name with that same fire and passion that lived in her eyes. The restlessness he had once sensed in her still remained, buried under the surface.
Even after the birth of their daughter, her fingers would twitch against tabletops and she’d pace before the giant window that overlooked the city, unable to sit still as servants saw to their every need, her perfume coating her now in scents of a society wife.
In Lahan, she smelled of peaches and strawberries. Natural scents, clinging to her fingers from where she plucked the fruits from the garden. Her hair was long, pinned up atop her head like a farmer’s wife. She wore simple linens now, and an apron when she cooked. There were no servants here. Her fingers were roughened from dish soap and linens and digging in the garden. Her face was smudged with dirt and fruit. And her eyes were still wild, passion and ferocity turned now to matters of housework and child rearing.
She moved more easily now. Somehow, here, away from the floating countries, she slipped her loose leash and remained domesticated. Fingers that had tapped and twitched now knitted and baked. Eyes that had roamed the horizon watched as Midori played, checked the roast, took in the sunset over the mountains. But her hands on her kitchen knives still moved with a practiced precision, slicing meat as easily and skillfully as she had sliced flesh in a former life. She still moved with the grace of a warrior, still kept her sword arm strong and her eyes sharp. She still dragged him into bed, eyes slit and lips curved wickedly. And she still screamed, but now she screamed his name.
Sometimes, Hyuga feared he’d never fully understand her.
no subject
I daresay you've done her justice and then some. Absolutely beautiful.
be proud of this. ♥
no subject
Thank you so much, I'm so glad you liked it and commented.
no subject