shelley_winters | (no subject)

(no subject)

Tiger in the Long Grass becomes Swallow in Flight.

Shelley readjusts her grip in the hilt of her practise sword, fingers already a little sore. It's been a very long time since she did - well, anything that counts as exercise. She was never strong, but it's a little worrying how hard this is. Earlier that week she had tried, and come over dizzy, but for now, although her breathing is a little too fast and her arms are starting to hurt, she feels all right.

Leaf on the Wind.

No, not right - it shakes and feels wrong, but as she tries again, it does the same. A small noise of discontent, and she moves on. She can look it up later.

Parting the Veil.

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The end of his staff missed her face by a hair. A rush of air blew her hair at the speed of the blow. Turning once more, he let the staff spin behind his back to dissipate the momentum.

Still that smile.

Shelley breathes in sharply, still biting her lip, with a quiet hissing noise. Then he spins the staff away, and she darts forward to strike while the sees an opening.

He pulled his staff around his body, but not quickly enough. Her wooden sword connected soundly with his torso, and how Ishamael smiled. He, however, also had an opportunity, and pressed the staff forward, pushing Shelley against a tree with the horizontal staff across the lower part of her torso.

His face was very close to hers, a thin gleam of sweat on his brow. Oh, there was much pleasure in this.

Shelley cries out, sharp and short, at the joint blow of the staff across her body and her back hitting the tree. The practise sword dangles uselessly at her side from an aching arm.

Catching her breath, the girl grits her teeth to hide the panic and looks up through damp, untidy hair.

Ishamael smiled and gently kissed her on the lips. The fire in the blood. One of his hands relinquished the staff to brush her hair out of her face. He could feel the place she struck him beating with his heart.

After such a fierce fight, there was a pleasure in a soft kiss.

The rough tree trunk behind her scrapes on her palm as she drops her sword from nerveless fingers, head falling back, and she can't get any further away than that, oh-

Oh. God...

She tries to turn her face, it's wrong, and she can't get away, but it's wrong.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ishamael could see that last flash of light right before the sun sank behind the mountains. The whole rose garden seemed to be aflame in that dull red light. The staff vanished as his hand trailed its way up her body to rest on her shoulder.

His smile was so soft, and there was no mockery in his eyes as he pulled back for a brief moment. Words were unnecessary, superfluous. He leaned back in to kiss her once more.

She shivers slightly and involuntarily at the tracing motion of his hand. The pressure of his mouth is gentle enough that she could pull away, but there isn't anywhere to pull to, the trunk against the back of her head prevents that, and-

Small hands push forward, sudden and determined because it is wrong, and it has to stop. Now.

Pulling back for a moment, he commented coldly, still smiling. His fingers traced lightly on her shoulder. The wind played in his black hair as he smiled softly, his face still so close to hers.

"There is no problem, is there? Nothing wrong with the way you feel."

That's better. That's easier to think, and if she ducks her head she doesn't have to meet his eyes either-

She pushes harder.

"Let me out."

A light chuckle as he stepped aside. Oh, he had won, indeed. He could feel how she enjoyed his touch, at least unconsciously, and that was enough. More than enough.

"As you wish... but we both know there is nothing wrong with enjoying a kiss."

Shelley turns her back stiffly, walking away and fighting the urge to run. She won't talk back. Those arguments never go right.

Her whole body feels like it's aching, and her breathing hasn't slowed yet, hard and slightly painful.

She's just weak.

What an exhilarating and productive exercise! Ishamael smiled as he watched her walk off. Calmly stepping over to the edge of the garden, he gently stroked the edges of the rose petals with his fingers.

She had enjoyed that kiss. A moment's pause, a catch in her breath, only after a time did she even start to fight. The evening wind toyed with his hair, lightly.

The sun had set.

(I win again)

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