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femslashficlets2016-08-05 12:06 pm
rosage) wrote in femslashficlets2016-08-05 12:06 pm
Entry tags:
#070 - remainder
Title: Doom and Giggle
Fandom: Fire Emblem Fates
Pairing: Kagero/Orochi
Rating: G
Word Count: 574
Prompt: #028--Mood
Summary: Orochi's always been the only one to understand Kagero, but it goes the other way as well.
Note: See note below re: lateness.
People often thought Kagero gloomy when nothing in particular was wrong. In contrast, it didn’t take her familiarity with Orochi to know when a problem had silenced that giggle. The lack of it always made the whole castle seem a little grimmer, not that Kagero needed a reason to support someone who had always been there for her.
This time, Orochi was sighing in her chambers, drumming her fingers on a table. Masks sat upon it beside her usual tools. Kagero set down her painting materials by the entrance. She’d planned to use the room for her break, as Orochi loved to watch her paint, but when something put Orochi in a mood she couldn’t be distracted until she’d let it go. On instinct Kagero crept to kneel beside Orochi, placing a hand on the woman’s neck. Orochi tensed up with a yelp.
“Kagero! Give some warning! Do you know how dreadful it makes me feel to not be able to sense you?”
“My apologies, but you are the one who always insists you will be able to tell when my shadow falls upon you.”
“I will. After enough practice. Which must improve something.” She looked glumly at the masks.
“I assume those are the actual source of your dread?”
“There’s nothing dreadful about them,” Orochi snapped.
“Ah. Someone responded negatively to them?” She could recognize Orochi’s work anywhere—it was as playful as hers was dark, and as misunderstood. The other ninjas had stopped trusting Kagero with disguises, as they thought her sense of style stood out more than her regular face. She’d come to Orochi for help with that problem at the time, though Orochi was the one person who understood her for a reason: the masks and accessories she crafted were similarly unique.
Kagero picked up an oni mask with glittering purple eye makeup, turning it to watch the makeup shimmer in the light. Who else would picture an oni painting its face? It was absurd and fanciful, but this was what she loved about Orochi.
“I spent so much time making these to help Oboro win over some kid, but they both laughed at them. Imagine! Mocking oni is a straight ticket to becoming possessed.”
“Is that a fortune, or…?”
“No, it just seems like it should be.” Orochi laid her head inside the crook of her elbow. “Nobody appreciates everything I do to liven this place up.”
If she were as sensitive as Orochi, that ‘nobody’ might have stung, but Kagero had spent a lifetime learning how to melt into the background. “What are you planning to with these?”
“There’s nothing to be done with them now.”
“In that case, I’ll borrow this one. I didn’t know what to paint today. It will make an interesting subject.”
She could almost see Orochi’s ears perking like those of a cat as she swiveled her head, spotting Kagero’s easel for the first time. “You want to do a portrait of my mask?”
“If that’s all right.”
“Of course! Seeing my work in your harsh lines…it’s going to be delightful.”
If not for Kagero’s training, Orochi’s hug would have knocked her off balance. As it was she kept the mask held up to the light, trying to find just the right angle to deepen the shadows in the masks crevices. After all these years, she’d probably never stop marveling that it was her own gloomy outlook that always brought back Orochi’s smile.
Title: From a Spark
Fandom: Fire Emblem Fates
Pairing: Rinkah/Oboro
Rating: G
Word Count: 1038
Prompt: #044--Journey
Summary: Rinkah and Oboro on only one stop of their journey.
Note: I hope that it's okay that this is slightly late and slightly long--I wrote these within the deadline but had no time to edit this one down. For Phrenotobe, who gave me the idea.
The flames build from sparks to wavering curls to a decent campfire. When she’s sure the crackles and pops sound right, Rinkah gives thanks to the God of Fire and puts away her flint. Orochi’s been teaching her how to harness fire in battle with scrolls, but it feels sacrilegious, like her god hasn’t provided her with enough. That couldn’t be further from the truth: the deer she hunted and Oboro skinned roasts teasingly over the fire, releasing the aroma of smoked meat while dripping juices into the flames that make it hiss.
While they wait, Oboro braids her hair to keep it back from the fire. Rinkah breaks the silence, something she’s been doing more as they travel. “I’m surprised you left your ribbons behind.”
“Camping in the woods would have gotten my best clothes dirty.” She tugs at a stained patch of her red tunic, which is embroidered with a white design that betrays it was once her ‘best clothes.’ That morning Oboro adjusted it with needle and thread, as it no longer fit around her arm muscles. “At least I’ve gotten the hang of eating like you do. It’s actually fun.”
“You’re getting better at digging in, but true Flame Tribe feasting isn’t about making a mess. It’s coming together around the fire to show we enjoy the fruits of everyone’s labors. You can’t experience it just by copying me.” That’s how she came to invite Oboro on this trip home in the first place, something she never would have done with another Hoshidan.
“I guess that makes sense, but isn’t the Flame Tribe known for being independent?”
“Among outsiders, yes. Our tribe must rely on each other. We don’t bond through chatter, but shared rituals like this.”
“I think I understand. I have to admit, when I first approached you, I was just annoyed. I didn’t know we’d learn so much from each other.”
“Yeah,” is all Rinkah can say. She tries to smile over the flames, but ducks her head to examine how the tinder is fairing instead. Not even hiking, eating, or the meditation Lord Ryoma taught her have calmed her since she and Oboro set out. She’s been too prideful—and maybe, maybe, too nervous—to explain to Oboro that this journey carries more weight than a romp in the woods.
“I’m surprised the tribe agreed to let me in, though. You’ve been preparing me for it this whole trip, but you keep saying outsiders aren’t allowed.”
Rinkah chokes, punching her gut even though she has no food to swallow. “About that… They haven’t agreed yet. We’ll have to convince them.”
“What?! You mean we could go all that way for nothing?”
“I am the Chief’s daughter,” Rinkah growls. “They’ll let us in.” She pokes the fire with a stick. She can’t admit she isn’t sure. There’s still one man above her, after all. She hopes her service in Hoshido’s army earned her this favor, and hopes more deeply that her father is as impressed with Oboro as she is.
“It still seems like an awful lot of trouble just so I can join your feast.”
The stick bends in Rinkah’s hands. “It’s not just for that.”
“What?”
“Aren’t you the one who brags about having finesse? Figure it out.”
“Uh, excuse me? I can’t read your mind, and I don’t brag.”
With a crack, the stick breaks. She doesn’t want to fight with Oboro, but nerves make her run hot. “You bragged about your neat eating. And didn’t you act like a mind reader by assuming I needed you to teach me?”
The fire’s harsh shadows heighten Oboro’s demonic face. “We were sharing—I thought we got past—you know what? Forgot it. Sorry to bother you.”
She stands, startling Rinkah. She can’t just leave after the days of hiking, crossing streams, bridging their differences. The shame of it is too much.
“Fine! Go. I didn’t want to marry you anyway.”
It might be the first time a fire princess has made someone freeze.
“I…huh? I was just going to let us chill out. And I would have…assumed that,” Oboro says slowly.
Rinkah can handle the heat, but the way her face burns now is unbearable. Still, too much has built up for her not to keep charging forward.
“I would have, too, but… Here I am. Here we are. Look, I’m not one for cat-and-mouse games or gushing, so I might as well be frank. We still have a lot to learn from each other, and when I’m Chieftan I’ll need a skilled warrior at my side. But I can’t introduce just anyone to my tribe. I was going to ask my father’s permission when we got there, after I asked yours.”
The deer has begun to char, Rinkah’s favorite smell, but she’s too nauseous to appreciate it. Oboro’s still standing, her hands at her hair and her clothes and then her sides. “Is that not your plan anymore?” she asks, her voice strangely soft.
“You made your feelings on it clear. There’s no reason for me to embarrass myself further.”
“Now you’re acting like you can read my mind. You just surprised me.” Oboro sits carefully, as if unsure as if she has a place around the fire. Rinkah’s stomach drops.
“If you have an answer, then give it.”
“Sorry, but there’s too much at stake for me to rush into this. Can I…figure it out as we go?”
“Of course,” Rinkah says. “I won’t press you until we’ve arrived.”
“Thanks.” Oboro giggles, a sound Rinkah has never made but grew to like. “I didn’t know you admired me that much. It’s kinda nice.” Before Rinkah can sputter a response, Oboro’s giggle turns into a groan. “Wait, you’re presenting me to your tribe, and I’ve got nothing decent to wear.”
Rinkah laughs, feeling some of her tension break up. “As fine as your craftsmanship is, fire makes draping clothes and hair hazardous.”
“Huh. I guess I’ll have more to get used to than I thought.”
“I’ll be glad to help you out,” Rinkah says, hoping her voice conveys the fondness she can’t put into words. It’s not long before Oboro is giggling again, so she assumes it does.
Fandom: Fire Emblem Fates
Pairing: Kagero/Orochi
Rating: G
Word Count: 574
Prompt: #028--Mood
Summary: Orochi's always been the only one to understand Kagero, but it goes the other way as well.
Note: See note below re: lateness.
People often thought Kagero gloomy when nothing in particular was wrong. In contrast, it didn’t take her familiarity with Orochi to know when a problem had silenced that giggle. The lack of it always made the whole castle seem a little grimmer, not that Kagero needed a reason to support someone who had always been there for her.
This time, Orochi was sighing in her chambers, drumming her fingers on a table. Masks sat upon it beside her usual tools. Kagero set down her painting materials by the entrance. She’d planned to use the room for her break, as Orochi loved to watch her paint, but when something put Orochi in a mood she couldn’t be distracted until she’d let it go. On instinct Kagero crept to kneel beside Orochi, placing a hand on the woman’s neck. Orochi tensed up with a yelp.
“Kagero! Give some warning! Do you know how dreadful it makes me feel to not be able to sense you?”
“My apologies, but you are the one who always insists you will be able to tell when my shadow falls upon you.”
“I will. After enough practice. Which must improve something.” She looked glumly at the masks.
“I assume those are the actual source of your dread?”
“There’s nothing dreadful about them,” Orochi snapped.
“Ah. Someone responded negatively to them?” She could recognize Orochi’s work anywhere—it was as playful as hers was dark, and as misunderstood. The other ninjas had stopped trusting Kagero with disguises, as they thought her sense of style stood out more than her regular face. She’d come to Orochi for help with that problem at the time, though Orochi was the one person who understood her for a reason: the masks and accessories she crafted were similarly unique.
Kagero picked up an oni mask with glittering purple eye makeup, turning it to watch the makeup shimmer in the light. Who else would picture an oni painting its face? It was absurd and fanciful, but this was what she loved about Orochi.
“I spent so much time making these to help Oboro win over some kid, but they both laughed at them. Imagine! Mocking oni is a straight ticket to becoming possessed.”
“Is that a fortune, or…?”
“No, it just seems like it should be.” Orochi laid her head inside the crook of her elbow. “Nobody appreciates everything I do to liven this place up.”
If she were as sensitive as Orochi, that ‘nobody’ might have stung, but Kagero had spent a lifetime learning how to melt into the background. “What are you planning to with these?”
“There’s nothing to be done with them now.”
“In that case, I’ll borrow this one. I didn’t know what to paint today. It will make an interesting subject.”
She could almost see Orochi’s ears perking like those of a cat as she swiveled her head, spotting Kagero’s easel for the first time. “You want to do a portrait of my mask?”
“If that’s all right.”
“Of course! Seeing my work in your harsh lines…it’s going to be delightful.”
If not for Kagero’s training, Orochi’s hug would have knocked her off balance. As it was she kept the mask held up to the light, trying to find just the right angle to deepen the shadows in the masks crevices. After all these years, she’d probably never stop marveling that it was her own gloomy outlook that always brought back Orochi’s smile.
Title: From a Spark
Fandom: Fire Emblem Fates
Pairing: Rinkah/Oboro
Rating: G
Word Count: 1038
Prompt: #044--Journey
Summary: Rinkah and Oboro on only one stop of their journey.
Note: I hope that it's okay that this is slightly late and slightly long--I wrote these within the deadline but had no time to edit this one down. For Phrenotobe, who gave me the idea.
The flames build from sparks to wavering curls to a decent campfire. When she’s sure the crackles and pops sound right, Rinkah gives thanks to the God of Fire and puts away her flint. Orochi’s been teaching her how to harness fire in battle with scrolls, but it feels sacrilegious, like her god hasn’t provided her with enough. That couldn’t be further from the truth: the deer she hunted and Oboro skinned roasts teasingly over the fire, releasing the aroma of smoked meat while dripping juices into the flames that make it hiss.
While they wait, Oboro braids her hair to keep it back from the fire. Rinkah breaks the silence, something she’s been doing more as they travel. “I’m surprised you left your ribbons behind.”
“Camping in the woods would have gotten my best clothes dirty.” She tugs at a stained patch of her red tunic, which is embroidered with a white design that betrays it was once her ‘best clothes.’ That morning Oboro adjusted it with needle and thread, as it no longer fit around her arm muscles. “At least I’ve gotten the hang of eating like you do. It’s actually fun.”
“You’re getting better at digging in, but true Flame Tribe feasting isn’t about making a mess. It’s coming together around the fire to show we enjoy the fruits of everyone’s labors. You can’t experience it just by copying me.” That’s how she came to invite Oboro on this trip home in the first place, something she never would have done with another Hoshidan.
“I guess that makes sense, but isn’t the Flame Tribe known for being independent?”
“Among outsiders, yes. Our tribe must rely on each other. We don’t bond through chatter, but shared rituals like this.”
“I think I understand. I have to admit, when I first approached you, I was just annoyed. I didn’t know we’d learn so much from each other.”
“Yeah,” is all Rinkah can say. She tries to smile over the flames, but ducks her head to examine how the tinder is fairing instead. Not even hiking, eating, or the meditation Lord Ryoma taught her have calmed her since she and Oboro set out. She’s been too prideful—and maybe, maybe, too nervous—to explain to Oboro that this journey carries more weight than a romp in the woods.
“I’m surprised the tribe agreed to let me in, though. You’ve been preparing me for it this whole trip, but you keep saying outsiders aren’t allowed.”
Rinkah chokes, punching her gut even though she has no food to swallow. “About that… They haven’t agreed yet. We’ll have to convince them.”
“What?! You mean we could go all that way for nothing?”
“I am the Chief’s daughter,” Rinkah growls. “They’ll let us in.” She pokes the fire with a stick. She can’t admit she isn’t sure. There’s still one man above her, after all. She hopes her service in Hoshido’s army earned her this favor, and hopes more deeply that her father is as impressed with Oboro as she is.
“It still seems like an awful lot of trouble just so I can join your feast.”
The stick bends in Rinkah’s hands. “It’s not just for that.”
“What?”
“Aren’t you the one who brags about having finesse? Figure it out.”
“Uh, excuse me? I can’t read your mind, and I don’t brag.”
With a crack, the stick breaks. She doesn’t want to fight with Oboro, but nerves make her run hot. “You bragged about your neat eating. And didn’t you act like a mind reader by assuming I needed you to teach me?”
The fire’s harsh shadows heighten Oboro’s demonic face. “We were sharing—I thought we got past—you know what? Forgot it. Sorry to bother you.”
She stands, startling Rinkah. She can’t just leave after the days of hiking, crossing streams, bridging their differences. The shame of it is too much.
“Fine! Go. I didn’t want to marry you anyway.”
It might be the first time a fire princess has made someone freeze.
“I…huh? I was just going to let us chill out. And I would have…assumed that,” Oboro says slowly.
Rinkah can handle the heat, but the way her face burns now is unbearable. Still, too much has built up for her not to keep charging forward.
“I would have, too, but… Here I am. Here we are. Look, I’m not one for cat-and-mouse games or gushing, so I might as well be frank. We still have a lot to learn from each other, and when I’m Chieftan I’ll need a skilled warrior at my side. But I can’t introduce just anyone to my tribe. I was going to ask my father’s permission when we got there, after I asked yours.”
The deer has begun to char, Rinkah’s favorite smell, but she’s too nauseous to appreciate it. Oboro’s still standing, her hands at her hair and her clothes and then her sides. “Is that not your plan anymore?” she asks, her voice strangely soft.
“You made your feelings on it clear. There’s no reason for me to embarrass myself further.”
“Now you’re acting like you can read my mind. You just surprised me.” Oboro sits carefully, as if unsure as if she has a place around the fire. Rinkah’s stomach drops.
“If you have an answer, then give it.”
“Sorry, but there’s too much at stake for me to rush into this. Can I…figure it out as we go?”
“Of course,” Rinkah says. “I won’t press you until we’ve arrived.”
“Thanks.” Oboro giggles, a sound Rinkah has never made but grew to like. “I didn’t know you admired me that much. It’s kinda nice.” Before Rinkah can sputter a response, Oboro’s giggle turns into a groan. “Wait, you’re presenting me to your tribe, and I’ve got nothing decent to wear.”
Rinkah laughs, feeling some of her tension break up. “As fine as your craftsmanship is, fire makes draping clothes and hair hazardous.”
“Huh. I guess I’ll have more to get used to than I thought.”
“I’ll be glad to help you out,” Rinkah says, hoping her voice conveys the fondness she can’t put into words. It’s not long before Oboro is giggling again, so she assumes it does.
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