This may or may not become a series of drabbles, depending on how I feel, and/or the response :)
Characters: Rei and Jadeite
Description: Jadeite watches Rei and thinks about what he sees.
Rating: T for language.
He watches her walk and all he sees is fire. Her hips flick and snap and sway like the flames of a bonfire. Her hair swishes like the wick of a candle burning burning, burning away. Her eyes ignite like searing hot gasoline over a dying spark. He thinks it's fitting, fire being her element, because that's all she is. She is just a singular flame dancing in the wind, bending with its will but never ever becoming extinguished.
A smile.
A wink.
He catches her eye and smiles back because she knows. She knows that the men watch her, and especially him. She knows their eyes are trained on the sway of her hips when she walks and the curve of her lips when she smiles. She flips her hair for good measure, because it fucks with him and she knows it does. She lets it cascade over her shoulders, sparks snapping at the tips as it moves.
The sparks remind him of when she's angry, when they snap and crackle violently at her fingertips. She is always angry. He can practically see the flames dancing and brewing under her skin, turning it pink wherever they linger. Everyone stands back besides him because everyone knows that if you touch her you will get burned. She paces and grinds her teeth and yells. She burns things that probably do not deserve to be burned.
She will smile as the flames that burst from her fingertips lick her victims skin. She will smile as they begin to snap and bite and claw deeper and deeper into their flesh. She will only kill when she is angry, and she is always angry.
Now, though, as she stands in the middle of the room, it seems as though she is not angry. She is laughing at the other female present -a blonde- showing all her teeth and scrunching her nose. He can see, however, the blood that boils directly beneath her skin- the fury that lies temporarily dormant. Her guard is never down, and she is always ready to snap.
Sometimes, on rare occasions, her anger will recede momentarily and all that will be left is hunger. She hungers to destroy, and her flames let her do it. She hungers to win and to leave no one standing but her. She hungers to leave a wake of burning bodies in the name of success. He knows that sometimes she even hungers for him. He also knows that she will never act on it; she is much too stubborn to show her desires. He thinks, though, that they work better this way. Silently yearning for each other, exchanging stares and secret needs.
He thinks about his own hunger every time her fury leaks from the carefully placed cracks in her being. He would give anything to feel the scorch of her fire on his skin. Anything to smell burning flesh and lick the boiling-hot sweat that falls off of her porcelain skin.
He becomes alert as her eyebrow raised in his direction signals that she has caught his lingering stare. She flips her hair again -this time absentmindedly- and cocks her pretty little head to the side. Her brows furrow and her lips tighten- he can see it rising like a furious blush across her milky skin. She did not like eyes on her. She was always, always, angry; even when it lay sleeping underneath her happy facade. Her hair falls like a perfect sheet over her slender shoulders as she waits for an explanation. He only offers a smile- no words. She visibly clenches her jaw and goes back to speaking with the blonde, with eyes that promise: you'll be in trouble later.
He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding and smiles wider. He can nearly smell the smoke that will be the aftermath of her fury later on, and he can only hope that she shows at least some mercy.
But, he doesn't believe the chances of that are very good.
She is always angry.
R&R