C.C./Kallen.
A girl who is not a witch, and the woman who finds that amusing, act as askew centerpieces.
Written for the Tarot drabble cycle in femslash100 LJ.
OUR BITTERNESS, WHICH COLORS THE WINE WE DRINK
( 3 ) The Empress
C.C. spreads Kallen's legs. ( oh the vulgarity, the elegance in such a clean, simple gesture )
A/N: Set during the Black Knights' stay on the Chinese Hourai Island.
( 1 3 5 w o r d c o u n t )
"How do you know what to do?" Kallen says, a little too loudly, piercingly, as she forces the woman's head away; clenches her legs tightly together.
"Oh, really," C.C. simply deigns a wearisome sigh, as if to impress a complaint against the air. Her hand moves between Kallen's arms—icy hands cupped and sweating against her warmer jaws, cheeks—swiftly yet crudely wiping the saliva dripping left hanging from her mouth, her chin.
"How do you know what to do—" Kallen nearly screams, which is penitent, with spies nearby,
And yet C.C. laughs darkly; interrupts, "After all this time, Kallen, do you think that I'd care who I fuck?"
( When her ears ring, face lashed to the side, C.C. can only find it amusing that Kallen seems accustomed to slapping a man away. )
( 20 ) Judgment
She'd once known a girl with hair colored the thick red of blood, and eyes colored the grey of ashes after a fire, city-spread. Her Jeanne d'Arc, who no longer stands near.
A/N: Taken from the mention in Knightmare of Nunnally, and ran with, partial AU style. C.C. & Kallen: the first meeting, and then the last.
( 1 9 5 w o r d c o u n t )
Once, she had watched a girl, her hair a burning red and her eyes a storming grey.
Against the stakes, the red of her crude locks had spun a slicker, sicker color, and the grey of that gaze had bulged, dully, a dark color leaking down to the bags that sagged against sharp cheeks, malnourished and white and veined.
She had watched as the girl's feet were lit, had watched until her body had been consumed. The blaze and the black, curdling smoke a beacon; the ashes her own liberator.
Jeanne, a sacrifice for her nation's future glory ( Jeanne, who had merely wanted her C.C.'s liberty. )
When her gaze finds Kallen as she and her contracted emerge from the cave—meets a storm that brews within those eyes—she will not (cannot) bind her again.
Kallen, whose freedom is no longer hers to grant, who cuts through her: the obstruction before the barrier to the Holy God Emperor. Kallen, whose life she is willing to forfeit, she does not (will not) bring to an end.
And Jeanne, her Jeanne, whom she might have once loved, ( is not Kallen; simply cannot be ).
END