Suu's Works

Thu, 27 Mar 2008 11:03:36 GMT

They had made plans to meet at the fountain some few days ago. The weather at the time had not, it seemed, been so cool; indeed, there wasn't the nigh-threat of snow in the air at the time. Kanan found herself unprepared for such strange weather, and so she was shivering as she waited at the fountain, one hand clenched tightly on her cane, the other shoved into a pocket of her coat. She was early-- she always left early nowadays, because it took her twice as long to get to her destinations as it had before--, but she was surprised to find him there, dressed for once in something that WASN'T those shorts, but a sensible pair of slacks and a light coat, along with a scarf that looked suspiciously like the ones she'd seen on Setsuna, though she knew it wasn't-- mostly because his wasn't striped dark red and dark blue. Against dark skin, the red looked richer, the blue deeper. And the smile, reserved though it was, that tilted his lips up gave her a brief flash of white.

He really was handsome, she noted to herself, not for the first time. He even acted like a handsome man should; calm, collected. Thoughtful. She'd been impressed and affected by his kindness from the start; more so as she grew depressed. It was in no small part due to him that she was as happy as she was now. Their respective families had been very against their friendship; Kanan had fought tooth and nail and ended up playing the 'don't you trust me' card to get Lockon and Allelujah to agree to let her see him; she didn't know how he had convinced his siblings, and really, she didn't want to.

He seemed to inspect her as she caned her way to him, noting her shivering. Nothing was said, but he carefully unwound the scarf from around his neck and just as carefully wound it around hers, looking down at her with a quiet sort of amusement as she looked up at him, surprised. Lifting the hair from the nape of her neck, he seemed to jolt-- as she did-- at the contact of skin on skin, but this was nothing new for the two. As he finished tying the scarf, he looked at her with laughing eyes. She was buried nose-deep in scarf; it was fat and soft around her mouth and she couldn't help laughing. It only intensified as the sky decided that it was ready to let loose, and a few fat drops of rain, near-freezing, began to fall. He looked from the sky to her face before suggesting they move. She nodded, caning beside him as fast as possible until suddenly the few drops became more and more, and went from rain to snow, cold and stinging. They managed to find shelter in a building that had been cleared, not far from where they were, and after he kindled a fire, they sat beside it, at that awkward distance of those who don't want to move closer for fear of scaring the other. Scarf and coat peeled off to dry beside his coat, they chatted companionably, and neither knew when they had moved so close, but the bump of shoulder on shoulder scared them both. Kanan blushed deeply and looked away; his face couldn't be read. There were idle questions asked, their answers unimportant, and the wind howled outside. At one point, the windowboards rattled, and Kanan flinched closer to him, holding onto his arm for a long moment before they locked gazes, both shocked.

His eyes softened first, and he touched her hand gently with his other, sliding it down to twine fingers, and he looked away studiously. She looked simply nervous, and they were silent, companionably so. Some time later, the fire was dying and he gathered up their coats, tucking hers around her and his around himself. The wind still howled, no indications of stopping forthcoming, and he held the scarf, looking at her and slowly wrapping it around her, his hand lingering longer on the skin of her nape. He probably didn't mean to lower his face so close to hers, and by reactions, neither expected him to lower his mouth to hers, too, pressing lips against lips, warm and sweet and brief, before he looked flustered and away and she focused on the embers. But her hand tightened on his before picking up the tail ends of the scarf and wrapping them with a delicacy around his throat.

Nothing else needed to be said, and the next morning he woke to her leaning against him, his arm around her, and scarf around them both. Also very upset, very worried families. But that was of little import to them, and she unwound the scarf from around her neck as if to give it back, but he simply took it and wrapped it around her again. Then, trailing a finger down the freckled skin of her face, he pushed the scarf down a bit more and gathered his courage. This time, they both saw it coming, and the kiss was just as warm, just as sweet, but not quite as brief.

Then they went their separate ways, to find their brothers (and sister) and hopefully some excuse. When she got home, Alle lectured her about being responsible. Lockon griped about "that damn Trinity". But Setsuna saw the scarf, the brightness of her eyes and the flush of her cheek, and smiled, content that she was happy.

Tue, 25 Mar 2008 03:07:32 GMT

The upper levels of Junon weren't particularly noted for being child-friendly; actually, none of Junon was. The lowerlevels were dirty and crime-addled; the upper levels were a big, industrialesque city which wasn't particularly conducive to a safe upbringing.

So it was that no one knew what Major Berquam Mistyre was playing at, bringing his three to the upper levels-- at least the two elder boys were of an age to watch the youngest, a scrawny hoyden of a girl with a remarkably short temper. For a while, Evania, the childrens' mother, tried to keep her indoors, under wraps.

Berquam's brother, Oster, made this more and more difficult, and his scarce-hidden dislike for Berquam's wife didn't help things either-- telling the girl stories of the war in Wutai, of his job as artillery fighting a force of ninja and horseless knights. Those big gray eyes shone with the glamour of being a soldier in the strongest military force on Gaia, and it was very hard to keep the small girl indoors, her long dark brown curls pulled back into messy braids so that her mother wouldn't get after her about dirty hair.

The middle child, Lucien, couldn't understand either his sister's fascination with wargames or his mother's inherent dislike for Kanan's active life. So when he was put in charge of watching over his baby sister-- barely three years younger, but when you were eleven that was a big difference, really, especially when your eldest brother was coming up on eighteen rapidly and wanted nothing to do with anything but his test scores--, he didn't much mind; it gave him something to do over the long summers, since other children were scarce in the middle-class neighborhood that ShinRa billeted his father and family into.

Years passed, and Kanan reached seventeen with very little changed; she was still the despair of her mother and the apple of her father and uncle's eyes, and she still had her sights set on becoming one of ShinRa's soldiers. She hadn't grown as well as the other girls her age, twenty-year-old Lucien noted; the curves that had drawn their father to their mother were notably absent from Kanan's form, replaced with a slim lankiness that was better suited on a boy.

She'd blossomed for a short while, luckily; she at least had her mother's basic frame, meaning that there were several (well-chaperoned) dates wherein her date spent his time staring at her chest and she spent her time staring at the skies and wondering-- well, who ever knew what Kanan thought? Behind those eerie gray eyes, the dead match of her grandfather's, there were a thousand and a half thoughts, but her mother had trained her out of telling anyone what they were. So instead, Lucien spent a lot of the time he'd normally be spending in courses trying to read his little sister's mind and keep an eye on her. Since their father was rarely, if ever, around-- he was busy with his work on Sister Ray, helping to construct it; he was home perhaps a day a week on a good week--, Lucien was also Kanan's only savior when their mother tried for the umpteenth time to 'turn her into a decent lady', something that usually entailed a week of staying indoors and cooking and cleaning. Lucien liked to refer to it as 'slave training'; Kanan only gave him That Look and went back to whatever it was Evania had her doing at that time.

So it was some night, after dinner's dishes had been cleared, that Kanan excused herself from the house and left. After about ten minutes, Evania ordered him to find her. Rolling his eyes, Lucien nodded and left the house. He knew where she'd gone, anyway.

At the playground, not far from the house, he found his sister sitting on a swing, feet dangling as she looked over a sheet of paper.

"What's that?" he piped up, scaring her half out of her seat. She tried to tuck the paper away, seemed to rethink it, and instead decided to answer him.

"An application and recommendation for Junon Military Academy."

He couldn't help but gape at her. "The Academy? Who... but..."

"My history teacher suggested it. He said I had a good head for dates and with such a strong interest in the wars...."

Luc looked at his sister, who was pointedly NOT looking at him. "Kanan, you know Ma won't let you go."

"I know. I'm going anyway." The look she turned on him was steely. "I can't not go, Luc. You know that."

"I know, Kanan, but... I mean, it's hard. It's very hard. And... I mean, if you were a...."

"Boy, you mean? If I were a man? If, if, if. Lucien, I need this. I can't help my gender. But this... this is my dream. Let me try for it," she sighed, her eyes turning from him again. He felt something twist in his chest as he watched her swing, eyes on the sky.

"...It's going to be expensive," he added.

Her expression tightened. That was something she'd obviously been worrying about. "I'll figure something out. I know Daddy and Mother won't help."

"Damn straight they won't. You know Mother just wants you to marry off well and live like her."

"I don't want to. I won't. I'm not going to marry for any reason but love. So I'm leaving."

He sighed. "Idiot girl."

Her swinging stopped, and now the steel was molten. "You can't say a word, Luc! They don't expect a thing from you!" She was shouting, her expression hurt as her feet dug into the sand of the playground. "You're not forced to do something you don't want to, because you're a BOY. You're not the one who has to sacrifice their family for their dreams!"

He grabbed her arm, bruisingly tight, and pulled her closer. "Listen," he hissed, temper fraying. "You're not the one who's going to have to deal with Ma and Da's panicking if you leave. You're not the one who's got to see their little sister break their hearts!"

"They broke mine first!" Her voice broke, and she shivered.

Silence. "I know." He pulled her close. "I know, and would that I were old enough to stop them from doing it. Arcien couldn't say anything, either. We've known, we have. But there's nothing to be done, baby sister. We can't force it on them."

She shuddered, and gripped onto him. "Luc..." Her voice was close to tears.

No. He didn't want to see her cry. "How much is tuition?"

She pulled back, looked at him with eerie pale eyes. "Luc...?"

"Answer me, idiot girl, or I'll change my mind," he sighed.

"Ten thousand gil a year."

"...I can work for it. I have twenty thousand right now. I'll give you ten, and you better make it through. If you don't, I'll beat you myself."

"Luc..."

"Shut up. Shut up and take it. You better write me, though. I want to know how you're doing." He pulled her close again, resting his cheek on the silky dark hair she'd grown so long. "I'll take damage control here. They broke your heart. I won't let them do the same to your dreams, baby girl." She sighed in his arms, and he smiled. "It's a gift. Just... come back to us sometimes. Visit. Write. Don't just disappear on us. I'll write you, let you know what's happening."

"...Lucien, thank you."

"They should have known better," he couldn't help but grin.

"What do you mean?"

"Sticking me with you. Just because I listen to them doesn't mean I don't dislike what they do. I love them, but they can't do this forever. I'll back you up." He stroked her hair. "Now, I think we should get home. This place isn't safe at night, and you're not a soldier yet."

"Okay." She kept a grip on his coat, and together they walked home.

[PURGFIC]{kinda depressing} [[the moon and her sun]]

Fri, 14 Dec 2007 05:35:18 GMT

Sometimes all it comes down to is how long you can postpone the inevitable, I guess. I have loved him from damn near the start, and I will know until the very end that it's not even in my deck, much less the cards, for me to ever have him. He doesn't know-- I'm very good at hiding things when I want to. Nor will he ever know; I know his situation. It doesn't need my complications.

The telepath knows, I'm sure of it. He makes especial efforts to look anywhere but at me in Sunde; when we talk, it's with a chill that neither of us can hide. He, because I live with his lover-- and let me tell you, living with him is a heaven and hell. It's a constant parade of everything I love and hate about him. And underneath it all, there's a guilt-- the look in their eyes that time I caught them in a very compromising position, or watching them talk and knowing that there's intimate subjects being discussed, a side of him I'll never be invited to share. I'm not an idiot; I know this.

He stays out late, with the telepath; I leave Sunde at closing, and we sometimes come close to running into one another, but I keep myself hidden. I suspect he's become used to coming home late. He smells like the cheap cologne the telepath wears, and his clothing is dissheveled. But Kagerou and I have already taken over his bed, the cat asleep on my chest whenever we bed down there-- whatever nights he's not home by midnight, usually. He gets in with us, and curls around me; I guess it's because I'm warm. The kitten wakes up, before moving between us for the warmth and falling back asleep. She's the only one completely happy here. I'd like to say I'm more unhappy, but it's probably not true-- I mean, he has to fall asleep not next to his lover, but beside a girl he's never going to look at as any more than a sister. I get to at least have the illusion that behind that breath on my neck, the tangle of his hair against my cheek, and the heavy lump of his body beside mine is something more than what we have.

It's a miserable existance, full of denial, and I should leave. But leaving him would be like the moon leaving the sun; how can I leave behind what defines and gives me light?

Fri, 14 Dec 2007 05:33:18 GMT

LOOK IT'S A POST. I live.

Goal here: 1 post a day of things of varying quality and substance. WISH ME LUCK YOU GUYS.