Days of Sweet and Sour by bluestripe
Summary: A collection of moments among sibyllae. Children in both war and love.
Discalimer: I do not own Simoun or any of the characters or stories. But I do own these words. Please do not duplicate in whole or in part without my permission.
Mamiina x Yun
Mamiina never quite found the words to express her... appreciation to Yun. Yun who stood on the deck of the Arcus Niger and proclaimed she would pair with no one else. Yun who would look her in the eye with nothing less than respect. Yun who would forever cradle her soul.
Theirs was a silent intimacy, if you could call it that. Speaking of little more than Ri Maajon and her favorite books, Yun spent most of her time staring. Staring out the window, staring at her hands. There was a faint trail of sadness left by each movement she made. Mamiina knew of the tragedy in Yun's past, being one of only three surviving members of the slaughtered Chor Proleus. She detested the war, detested conflict, the onions in her rice. When Mamiina asked why Yun still fought, why she still drew Ri Maajon in a way that defiled the sky, she simply replied, "I will never stop praying."
Yun who sobbed through her sheets at night while Mamiina pretended not to hear. Yun who sat silently in the corner and watched the lives of others over the pages of her book.
The expanse of Yun's mourning was not something Mamiina could understand. There were moments on the observation deck when the wind seemed to pierce Yun's body, rushing through her and beyond. When the sky itself seemed merely a reflection emanating from the young sibyllae's chest. Yun often appeared to be grasping at air, breathing and breathing and waiting, desperate to receive something more than oxygen.
There were many things Mamiina should have said. She couldn't now. But Yun still remained, still waited. Yun who would forever cradle her soul.
Kaimu x Alti
Alti didn't have the words. She couldn't describe it, the gravity that pulled her downwards, the feel of her sister's hands inside of her. Twisting, arching, strands of hair. There was thunder, but Alti couldn't see the lightning through Kaimu's body. She wanted this. Alti had always wanted this. Her soft onee-san's skin, the same as her own, flush and hot in a sweet friction.
The world shattered the next morning. Alti tried to taste her once again, but was shoved violently to the floor. "Don't touch me! Don't ever touch me!" And so her sister was lost. Sister... wasn't the right word. It never had been. Kaimu was lost to her.
At first Alti didn't understand. Kaimu had perhaps given more than she received. Alti had not forced her hands or her tongue or her heart. But she came to realize that was the reason Kaimu now detested her so. Although Alti couldn't see what was so wrong with loving her that way, Kaimu hated herself for it.
They stopped teasing each other and giggling at stupid jokes. They stopped grabbing onto one another when ships exploded in the sky. Alti snuggled herself into Kaimu's sheets when the room was empty, wore nearly the same uniform, and kept her hair the same style. She tried to be so noble and gallant that she might earn forgiveness, or respect, or something other than disgust. But none of it worked. So she came to the desolate conclusion that the only thing she could do for her beloved onee-san was to stay out of her way.
For the fist time in her life, even having seen her comrades fall and her homeland beaten into disarray, Alti understood the meaning of the word loss.
Rodoreamon x Mamiina
The freckles were what did her in. Mamiina simply could not resist. She kissed her ojou-sama in the kitchen of the Messis, and surrendered with grace when Rodore kissed back, pushing her gently into the wall. They gasped, and separated, then Rodore sighed nervously and left Mamiina to her cooking. After years of bitterness, Mamiina finally saw the sweetness in life.
She felt her insides flutter for days. Every glance, every movement, every freckle sent her spinning. They grabbed one another a week later and hurried into the dusty storage locker. Lips met cheeks, eyes, and noses. Rodore scrunched her hands into the front of Mamiina's shirt and let herself loose in the experience.
"Mamiina," she whispered through kisses and caresses. "Have you wanted this?"
"Yes, I have." Mamiina pulled her closer and trailed her lips down her jaw. "Oh, Rodo."
Rodoreamon clung to her. Her strength, her desire, her taste and scent. She surprised the both of them when she dropped to her knees, scrunching Mamiina's shirt about her chest and kissing the soft skin of her abdomen. She felt propelled, pushed by some innate sense that time was running out. Mamiina met her on the floor and fiddled clumsily with the clasps on Rodore's shoulders.
When they were almost bare, almost, both paused. Mamiina brushed her fingers over Rodoreamon's collar bone, then looked away.
"Maybe we should..."
"...go check on dinner?" Rodore finished.
"Good idea."
As they gathered their clothes, Mamiina was flushed and embarrassed and light headed. But when she turned her back to Rodore and walked out the door, she grinned from ear to ear. Ojou-sama had freckles over more than just her nose.
A/N: Aha! My first and so far only Simoun fanfic. Hope you enjoyed. I actually wrote this years ago and posted it on /u/ so you may have seen it floating around. Anyways, I love reviews and comments, so have at it if you like. Also, this is my first M story. Woo hoo. I'm kind of annoyed that its hidden. But w/e. I'm not editing it down.