February 2023

S M T W T F S
   12 34
567891011
12131415161718
19202122232425
262728    

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Friday, April 6th, 2007 09:11 am
Written for [info]100_roadtrips.


#47: Job Perks

Kanzeon Bosatsu turned the last page, allowing a small, cat-like smile of satisfaction to curl her lips. She held the small volume for moment and then flipped back to several of the more amusing passages.

“Did you find your afternoon reading enjoyable?” Jiroushin asked primly.

“Quite,” Kanzeon admitted with a small smirk. “This author has a nicely creative mind, for a mortal.”

Jiroushin made the I-disapprove-but-am-too-proper-to-say-anything-noise that had been coming out of his throat for centuries.

“I’d like the sequel.”

“But it hasn’t been written yet!”

Kanzeon stared levelly at him.

“It’s against the rules,” he protested.

Kanzeon gave a small smile.

Jiroushin sighed. “You’ll have it by tomorrow.”



#49: Stoicism


Resurrection hurt.

Only for an instant, but that moment was agony, was every wound he’d ever suffered at once, was the gnawing, nauseating hunger from a thousand meals he hadn’t eaten, thirst from a thousand mouthfuls of water (sweet and cool and tasting of home)
that had not passed his lips.

Then nothing.

Gat opened his eyes.

Hazel smiled above him.

“Glad to have you back,” the boy said with a friendly pat on Gat’s shoulder, platinum hair glinting in the sunlight. Then the Bishop stood, continuing down the road. He was whistling cheerfully, and utterly ignoring the corpses at his feet.

Gat rose silently, and followed.



#14: My First Time With A Weapon


Her father expected her to be competent in the apothecary shop; she was.

Her teachers expected her to be intelligent; she answered correctly.

Youkai could summon weapons, therefor she could.

“Call for it,” her sensei ordered.

Yaone closed her eyes, exhaled, and there was a wooden shaft under her palms.

Her sensei smiled as she swung her spear in a graceful curve.

“How does your first time with something deadly feel?”

Yaone didn’t tell him he was wrong.

She’d first held death years ago, making flowers of fire with Trinitrotoluene in the backyard, or earlier, with innocuous-looking aconite under her fingers.

“Nice,” Yaone said, because it was expected.

Reply

This account has disabled anonymous posting.
If you don't have an account you can create one now.
HTML doesn't work in the subject.
More info about formatting