a/n: and again. second of -insert number here- oneshots that Mintwafflez is giving me prompts for. Mixed with my XIII muse. xD;
(The prompt is 'that risky dash from the bathroom to your bedroom with no clothes.' It is teh shortness.)
First time writing Serah or Lightning, so criticism is wanted. Pwease? C:
Not going to label this as spoiler, because really, you discover Serah's l'Cie status pretty early in the game. Plus, if you're reading fanfictions and haven't played that far, you have no right to complain. xD;
In-game timeline wise, this is Day 12, pre-Day 12's Datalog entry.
Eeennjjooooyyyyyy.~
(rated Teen for nudity, pairing is mild snow/serah, disclaimer: characters and plot belong to squeenix. all that belongs to me is the term 'drat-nougats' which I give free rein for anyone to use. 'cause I can do that.)
Risky Business
Serah crept forward, peering nervously around the hallway corner.
This is risky.
The carpet was warm under her bare toes, and she thanked Eden that the layout of the house did not place the hallway near any windows. Water dripping down her ankles had already created a small spot on the beige rug, which meant she had to hurry.
But what if...
Today was Lightning's twenty-first birthday, and at Serah's own insistence she was home relishing a rare day off from her Guardian Corps work. Said day off meant she could be wandering around the house anywhere... while Serah was praying to an unnamed fal'Cie that 'anywhere' was nowhere near her.
Stupid laundry.
Lightning had decided to put in a load while Serah was in the shower, taking her change of clean clothes by accident. Along with the towel – granted, it had been crumpled on the floor – but it was CLEAN.
Why Lightning was doing the laundry, anyway, was entirely beyond her.
She looked around the corner again, covering her left upper arm with one hand nervously. Her bandage, too, had been among the kidnapped clothes, which worsened the situation at least ten times. Being a Pulse l'Cie, her brand was entirely too distinguishable... and she hadn't yet talked to her sister about it.
Oh... drat-nougats!
So, to summarize, she was a l'Cie fugitive in her own house from her soldier sister... without clothes.
It's now or never.
Her room was at the end of this hallway, and around another corner.
Come on, Serah!
And she ran.
She ran like the Sanctum was after her, hell-bent on destroying the monster wrought of a Pulse fal'Cie. She ran like Snow was about to die in front of her, and whether she made it in time determined his survival.
She ran like her sister was about to see her naked bearing the brand of a l'Cie – which, granted, she was.
And she barely made it. As she pulled the door snug behind her, nearly catching her heel in the way, she heard her sister call "Serah?"
"One minute!" she huffed, leaning against the door as she tried to mask the exertion in her voice.
"Well, hurry up. Snow – " and the revulsion was evident, something Serah resolved to change – "is here."
"Okay!" she hollered back as she reached for a spare bandage, laying on her end table.
Mission accomplished.
