One for Bleach, one for TRC
Dec. 16th, 2005 05:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
petroniaEDIT -- I am just going to post these two together, since they're fairly short and then I won't have to remember to do it. XD
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
silvermuse89. She asked for wayoldergen!Academy fic and possibly Ukitake/Unohana, I think it was? XD
Both occupants of the room looked up as the enormous bouquet preceded Shunsui through the door. The young woman straightened, clipboard in hand, and swept her braid over one shoulder.
"Kyouraku-san," she said, "I trust you are aware visiting hours are over?"
Shunsui bowed extravagantly. "Recchan, darling—"
"Is there someone of that name here, I wonder," she said. Shunsui blinked but recovered instantaneously.
"Retsu-san – darling – as always the risk of your presence obliges me to bend the rules. How else could I be certain of meeting you, whose beauty is like a balm unto my heart?" He neatly extricated a yellow rose from its fellows in the glassine wrapper and made to offer it to her with a flourish.
She parried him with one hand, smiling.
"Please," she said, "spare me. I still have rounds to make. Sensei will examine you again this afternoon, Ukitake-san, but the medication seems to be controlling the inflammation well. I dare say you'll be out of here in aweek."
"Thank you, Unohana-san," said Ukitake. The door swung closed behind her.
Shunsui shrugged. "Third-years these days," he said. The appreciative tone belied the words.
"She's not so easily impressed," said Ukitake. Shunsui fancied the way he smiled was eerily similar to Unohana's in mildness.
"Luckily, you mean?"
Ukitake looked up at him, a little too quickly. Shunsui grinned and dropped the roses in his lap.
Forpere_chan. This and the one I wrote for Meg make a fine matched pair, except Kurogane likes short sentences and Fye likes enumerative run-ons. XD
Yasha's country was closer to what Fye had expected, when he first struck his bargain with the Witch of Space and Time. It was a world entirely foreign to him, that robbed him of speech and evinced no need of what he would be. It did not surprise him that Kurogane could communicate in halfway measures. They shared the values of the ninja, this dark-eyed people and their strange, pale, silent king; in a place where gestures were simple and smiles rare, he was isolated by his disguise.
Still he would not have chosen to ride into battle. Kurogane could bloody his sword to satiety: they had sweetmeats even in this grim country, though no ingredients familiar to him. Neither buttercream nor chocolate, nor brandy nor confectioner's sugar, nor hazelnut praline, nor red fruits out of season, nor even wheat flour. Instead they boiled sticky rice-paste dumplings in a sweet, fermented liquid that tasted like diluted rice wine. Served in a little porcelain bowl, the dumplings were as smooth and white and translucent as the full moon, and you never knew what you would find in the center. Red bean paste, lotus root jelly, aromatic seeds, yellow sugar crystals...
His favorite was black sesame seed paste, because it was the colour of night. Too, he fancied that black was the colour of Heart's Desire, and it all seemed terribly fitting.
He would have learnt to make them by watching. He had clever eyes, and hands too. He did not care if they thought him foolish or ineffectual. But among all their words there was only one he understood, and thus he had to see for himself: the youthful enemy king who was neither man nor woman, whose dark gaze burnt with an unquenchable flame, who shared a name that caused him to tremble. When Fye met him at last on the battlefield he understood how closely he had made his escape, for the Ashura of this world could have been a son or a brother to the one whose memory haunted each step he took – as beautiful as the night, as war, as Heart's Desire.
For
silvermuse89. She asked for wayoldergen!Academy fic and possibly Ukitake/Unohana, I think it was? XDBoth occupants of the room looked up as the enormous bouquet preceded Shunsui through the door. The young woman straightened, clipboard in hand, and swept her braid over one shoulder.
"Kyouraku-san," she said, "I trust you are aware visiting hours are over?"
Shunsui bowed extravagantly. "Recchan, darling—"
"Is there someone of that name here, I wonder," she said. Shunsui blinked but recovered instantaneously.
"Retsu-san – darling – as always the risk of your presence obliges me to bend the rules. How else could I be certain of meeting you, whose beauty is like a balm unto my heart?" He neatly extricated a yellow rose from its fellows in the glassine wrapper and made to offer it to her with a flourish.
She parried him with one hand, smiling.
"Please," she said, "spare me. I still have rounds to make. Sensei will examine you again this afternoon, Ukitake-san, but the medication seems to be controlling the inflammation well. I dare say you'll be out of here in aweek."
"Thank you, Unohana-san," said Ukitake. The door swung closed behind her.
Shunsui shrugged. "Third-years these days," he said. The appreciative tone belied the words.
"She's not so easily impressed," said Ukitake. Shunsui fancied the way he smiled was eerily similar to Unohana's in mildness.
"Luckily, you mean?"
Ukitake looked up at him, a little too quickly. Shunsui grinned and dropped the roses in his lap.
For
pere_chan. This and the one I wrote for Meg make a fine matched pair, except Kurogane likes short sentences and Fye likes enumerative run-ons. XDYasha's country was closer to what Fye had expected, when he first struck his bargain with the Witch of Space and Time. It was a world entirely foreign to him, that robbed him of speech and evinced no need of what he would be. It did not surprise him that Kurogane could communicate in halfway measures. They shared the values of the ninja, this dark-eyed people and their strange, pale, silent king; in a place where gestures were simple and smiles rare, he was isolated by his disguise.
Still he would not have chosen to ride into battle. Kurogane could bloody his sword to satiety: they had sweetmeats even in this grim country, though no ingredients familiar to him. Neither buttercream nor chocolate, nor brandy nor confectioner's sugar, nor hazelnut praline, nor red fruits out of season, nor even wheat flour. Instead they boiled sticky rice-paste dumplings in a sweet, fermented liquid that tasted like diluted rice wine. Served in a little porcelain bowl, the dumplings were as smooth and white and translucent as the full moon, and you never knew what you would find in the center. Red bean paste, lotus root jelly, aromatic seeds, yellow sugar crystals...
His favorite was black sesame seed paste, because it was the colour of night. Too, he fancied that black was the colour of Heart's Desire, and it all seemed terribly fitting.
He would have learnt to make them by watching. He had clever eyes, and hands too. He did not care if they thought him foolish or ineffectual. But among all their words there was only one he understood, and thus he had to see for himself: the youthful enemy king who was neither man nor woman, whose dark gaze burnt with an unquenchable flame, who shared a name that caused him to tremble. When Fye met him at last on the battlefield he understood how closely he had made his escape, for the Ashura of this world could have been a son or a brother to the one whose memory haunted each step he took – as beautiful as the night, as war, as Heart's Desire.
