When was the last time I published a story that had nothing to do with an LJ prompt?
…Can't really think of one at the moment.
Anyways, my bunnies were working on a couple of ideas when one of them offered this little bitty plot, so I went with it and came up with this one :D
Set during Marik's time as a Rare Hunter and ees a bit fluffy. Maybe. If you turn your head sideways…eh.
He absolutely loved it.
It was one thing when he had dreamed about flying down the road, wind whipping through his hair and brushing against his cheek while not having a care in the world. It was another thing entirely when his older brother one day returned from a self-proclaimed errand with a motorcycle; he never asked just how Rishid had come up with the means to purchase one when they had no money, since he was fairly certain he knew the answer.
(He also largely suspected his sister must've mentioned something about this in passing to Rishid before they had parted ways, because he knew for a fact that he had never told his older brother that he wanted a motorcycle.)
In any event, however, the fact that the gleaming bike was now his almost completely obliterated his focus on the Nameless Pharaoh for the moment and replaced the resentment with child-like elation; sure, that man was always lurking in his thoughts, but at least the motorcycle provided a pleasant distraction from running the Rare Hunters for a short time. His attention at the moment was entirely devoted to learning how to ride the vehicle on a deserted stretch of road.
What he had not realized, however, was that riding said motorcycle was much more challenging than he had initially anticipated; after the first six times he fell from the bike (and causing a justifiable amount of concern to appear on his brother's face at each crash landing), he realized then that he was going to need a lot more practice before he would be able to ride it.
When he went down yet again he tumbled onto the side of the road this time (very nearly colliding with a fence post as he went), and after the world had stopped spinning he sat up and spat out the dirt he'd gotten into his mouth. He grimaced at the grainy taste; he had a feeling he would be tasting dirt for a while until he mastered riding the motorcycle, but he didn't care how many bumps, cuts, scrapes, or bruises it would bring.
The freedom that accompanied the mastery of the vehicle was a fair reward to the injuries suffered.
…Of course, Rishid put a firm halt to his younger brother's attempts at riding the motorcycle for the day when his next failed attempt resulted in Marik actually going airborne before crashing back down to the ground with enough force to knock his helmet off.