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femslashficlets2016-09-11 04:35 pm
rosage) wrote in femslashficlets2016-09-11 04:35 pm
Entry tags:
A Kiss of Rain (#076--candy)
Title: A Kiss of Rain
Fandom: Fire Emblem Fates
Pairing: Rinkah/Oboro
Rating: G
Word Count: 980
Prompt: #076--candy
Summary: After they've settled into their roles, Rinkah visits Oboro and finds more things to admire about her than ever.
Note: For Phrenotobe.
A chime sounded when Rinkah slid open the shop door. It had made her jump the first time she’d visited, not that she’d admit it. In the forest, a deer’s slightest step couldn’t catch her off guard, but the Hoshidan capital had a way of attacking her with new noises. This one, at least, was no longer new. She knew without looking that the talisman Orochi attached to it made it look eerier than its high, delicate ring would suggest.
From her position kneeling beside a patron, Oboro lifted a hand to remove the pins from her mouth. Spotting Rinkah, she stopped halfway, instead waving. Rinkah’s mind supplied Oboro’s welcome to a customer: Please enter! I’ll be right with you!
As Rinkah removed her boots, unusually aware of the mud crusting them, she tried to tread lightly on the mats. She knew that when Oboro was working, nothing except that chime could disrupt her focus, but she still used a hunter’s stealth on her way to the corner—her corner, where she crouched while she waited for Oboro to be done. Oboro’s patron gave her an affronted glance, which Rinkah deflected by turning away. Her wet coat hung by the door, and she knew the Hoshidans that frequented Oboro’s shop found her garb strange, or strangely lacking. The longer Oboro tended single-mindedly to the one who gave her that look, the more foolish Rinkah felt for visiting early, uninvited, perhaps unwanted.
It’s not my fault I was sent out for ambassador duties in this weather. She normally took care of that before visiting Oboro, but the royal family would have to wait until the sky cleared. She crossed her arms, hoping she looked proud rather than cold and sulky. Thanks to the God of Fire she was rarely cold, but the day’s rain made her long for the fur lining that Oboro had sewn into her coat. Rain threatened the sacred flame, and her tribe barely even had fields for it to water.
Still avoiding the patron’s eye, she studied a kimono Oboro had hung next to a silk screen used for changing. Its black fabric and ominous purple swirls immediately brought to mind Kagero. Rinkah wouldn’t have been surprised if that was the patron—or, in Oboro’s generosity, gift recipient—for Oboro’s style had a way of masking itself, as she matched each piece to the person it was made to fit. As someone from a culture that prized individuality, Rinkah appreciated it.
The first time Oboro made something for her, she was surprised Oboro took the time to study Flame Tribe styles and fabrics, creating a bulky pair of pants that suited Rinkah perfectly. She’d given up on creating a matching top with draping sleeves after Rinkah convinced her that it would catch aflame.
While eavesdropping was below a future chieftain, the rain had dwindled to a patter on the roof, and there was no other sound to cover Oboro’s conversation. Her easy manner around her customers never ceased to amaze Rinkah. For someone who first approached Rinkah sternly, Oboro turned conversation into an art when it came to making her clients feel not only supplied, but welcome. Nobody Rinkah grew up around would have been able to do it, certainly not in the face of this client’s demanding tone, which was setting Rinkah’s teeth on edge.
When the chime signaled the patron’s exit, Rinkah finally returned her eyes to Oboro. Regardless of her feelings toward water, the fluid swish of Oboro’s ponytail made Rinkah respect, at least for a moment, how a river could be graceful. Oboro’s smile inverted. “Sheesh! What makes him think I can have this done by next week? Does no one respect artisans anymore?”
A fresh smile sprang to her face as she turned to Rinkah, who could recognize it as genuine, though the client likely wouldn’t have known the difference. Rinkah stood, planting her feet in time to keep her balance when Oboro sprang at her, all twirls and giggles sealed with a kiss on her cheek.
“I wasn’t expecting you for days! And in the rain, too. I thought cats hated getting wet?”
“I am no cat,” Rinkah said, trying and failing to scowl. “But those of us with fire in our veins hate it, too.”
“Well, it’s no campfire, but I’ll light us some candles. That was my last client today, and Orochi gave me some new incense. Are you hungry?” The chatter fell out in bits as Oboro walked away and stretched, nothing like the smooth way she dealt with her client. Rinkah recognized the removal of Oboro’s mask, as it reminded her of the way she dropped her guard when it was the two of them.
On the way to the backroom, Oboro stopped with an exclamation to dig through a drawer. She emerged with a pouch, swinging it triumphantly. “For you, of course!”
Rinkah didn’t bother to hide a grin as she took it, though she peeked covertly inside. Each sweet sported a red and blue swirl—a touch Oboro no doubt couldn’t resist, but at least they were uniform. The first time she’d made sweets for Rinkah, each one had been a unique work of art. It made her hesitate to gobble them by the handful the way she liked, enough to stuff her cheeks with them and muffle her hums. She’d probably do that with these, though she’d eat the first few carefully, savoring them one at a time on her tongue.
That could wait. Even around Oboro, Rinkah wouldn’t dig into sweets before a meal. “I thought you weren’t expecting me?”
“I’m always prepared,” Oboro said, smiling brightly though the hand on her neck belied her confidence. Rinkah didn’t mind the hint of vulnerability. She was too busy marveling, yet again, at how Oboro could make anyone feel welcome—even, or maybe especially, her.
Fandom: Fire Emblem Fates
Pairing: Rinkah/Oboro
Rating: G
Word Count: 980
Prompt: #076--candy
Summary: After they've settled into their roles, Rinkah visits Oboro and finds more things to admire about her than ever.
Note: For Phrenotobe.
A chime sounded when Rinkah slid open the shop door. It had made her jump the first time she’d visited, not that she’d admit it. In the forest, a deer’s slightest step couldn’t catch her off guard, but the Hoshidan capital had a way of attacking her with new noises. This one, at least, was no longer new. She knew without looking that the talisman Orochi attached to it made it look eerier than its high, delicate ring would suggest.
From her position kneeling beside a patron, Oboro lifted a hand to remove the pins from her mouth. Spotting Rinkah, she stopped halfway, instead waving. Rinkah’s mind supplied Oboro’s welcome to a customer: Please enter! I’ll be right with you!
As Rinkah removed her boots, unusually aware of the mud crusting them, she tried to tread lightly on the mats. She knew that when Oboro was working, nothing except that chime could disrupt her focus, but she still used a hunter’s stealth on her way to the corner—her corner, where she crouched while she waited for Oboro to be done. Oboro’s patron gave her an affronted glance, which Rinkah deflected by turning away. Her wet coat hung by the door, and she knew the Hoshidans that frequented Oboro’s shop found her garb strange, or strangely lacking. The longer Oboro tended single-mindedly to the one who gave her that look, the more foolish Rinkah felt for visiting early, uninvited, perhaps unwanted.
It’s not my fault I was sent out for ambassador duties in this weather. She normally took care of that before visiting Oboro, but the royal family would have to wait until the sky cleared. She crossed her arms, hoping she looked proud rather than cold and sulky. Thanks to the God of Fire she was rarely cold, but the day’s rain made her long for the fur lining that Oboro had sewn into her coat. Rain threatened the sacred flame, and her tribe barely even had fields for it to water.
Still avoiding the patron’s eye, she studied a kimono Oboro had hung next to a silk screen used for changing. Its black fabric and ominous purple swirls immediately brought to mind Kagero. Rinkah wouldn’t have been surprised if that was the patron—or, in Oboro’s generosity, gift recipient—for Oboro’s style had a way of masking itself, as she matched each piece to the person it was made to fit. As someone from a culture that prized individuality, Rinkah appreciated it.
The first time Oboro made something for her, she was surprised Oboro took the time to study Flame Tribe styles and fabrics, creating a bulky pair of pants that suited Rinkah perfectly. She’d given up on creating a matching top with draping sleeves after Rinkah convinced her that it would catch aflame.
While eavesdropping was below a future chieftain, the rain had dwindled to a patter on the roof, and there was no other sound to cover Oboro’s conversation. Her easy manner around her customers never ceased to amaze Rinkah. For someone who first approached Rinkah sternly, Oboro turned conversation into an art when it came to making her clients feel not only supplied, but welcome. Nobody Rinkah grew up around would have been able to do it, certainly not in the face of this client’s demanding tone, which was setting Rinkah’s teeth on edge.
When the chime signaled the patron’s exit, Rinkah finally returned her eyes to Oboro. Regardless of her feelings toward water, the fluid swish of Oboro’s ponytail made Rinkah respect, at least for a moment, how a river could be graceful. Oboro’s smile inverted. “Sheesh! What makes him think I can have this done by next week? Does no one respect artisans anymore?”
A fresh smile sprang to her face as she turned to Rinkah, who could recognize it as genuine, though the client likely wouldn’t have known the difference. Rinkah stood, planting her feet in time to keep her balance when Oboro sprang at her, all twirls and giggles sealed with a kiss on her cheek.
“I wasn’t expecting you for days! And in the rain, too. I thought cats hated getting wet?”
“I am no cat,” Rinkah said, trying and failing to scowl. “But those of us with fire in our veins hate it, too.”
“Well, it’s no campfire, but I’ll light us some candles. That was my last client today, and Orochi gave me some new incense. Are you hungry?” The chatter fell out in bits as Oboro walked away and stretched, nothing like the smooth way she dealt with her client. Rinkah recognized the removal of Oboro’s mask, as it reminded her of the way she dropped her guard when it was the two of them.
On the way to the backroom, Oboro stopped with an exclamation to dig through a drawer. She emerged with a pouch, swinging it triumphantly. “For you, of course!”
Rinkah didn’t bother to hide a grin as she took it, though she peeked covertly inside. Each sweet sported a red and blue swirl—a touch Oboro no doubt couldn’t resist, but at least they were uniform. The first time she’d made sweets for Rinkah, each one had been a unique work of art. It made her hesitate to gobble them by the handful the way she liked, enough to stuff her cheeks with them and muffle her hums. She’d probably do that with these, though she’d eat the first few carefully, savoring them one at a time on her tongue.
That could wait. Even around Oboro, Rinkah wouldn’t dig into sweets before a meal. “I thought you weren’t expecting me?”
“I’m always prepared,” Oboro said, smiling brightly though the hand on her neck belied her confidence. Rinkah didn’t mind the hint of vulnerability. She was too busy marveling, yet again, at how Oboro could make anyone feel welcome—even, or maybe especially, her.