A/N: This is a fiction for the Upon Open Wings writing group that Beth and I started the other day. Check it out of you haven't already, post up a prompt snippet or two, join the contest, and have an over all good time.
The prompt I chose to use: Use these four words in your story, in any order. Romantic, Convoluted, Eccentric, and Mirth.
Silk Thread
Her smile was simple…an easy going little smirk that played across her lips as she toyed with the embroidery needle, considering the small square of cloth with every ounce of mirth possible. The little string was uncanny, because of the symbolism found behind it. She shook her head, knowing that such a thing was foolish. Setting her work to the side, she stood from her place, exiting the tiny study. Dressed in the finest cloth that could be afforded, she found it ill-fitting off the place she took comfort in now.
Thinking it best to change into something more comfortable, she pattered into the bedroom.
She didn't have to go far, Mai's apartment was small, and the dark room was right next door. In the early light of the dawn, the carrot topped woman slept peacefully, her hair tussled gently, hiding her closed eyes. The bed gave a soft cry as Shizuru sat down upon it, leaning over to push away those short wispy tresses that were like fire's gentle flame.
Mai stirred only slightly, leaning into the warmth of Shizuru's hand, pressing her cheek further into the palm that cradled it. The action came complete with a sleepy half smile, and barely breathed greeting. Such a moment was worth savoring, worth grasping onto, and never letting go. Shizuru wanted to burn this moment into the pit of her very soul.
Looking back on their convoluted past wasn't an option worthy of notice…but it was what it was, and Shizuru wouldn't ever begrudge that. The victory was hard won, and best left to history's shadow.
Violet eyes fluttered open, Mai's lips pressing a kiss into the dainty pinky that was so near her. Tiredly, her lips trailed the other digits, before she reached out her hand to the air, beckoning her lover close as she tangled her own fingertips into fawn tresses. The meeting of parted lips coaxed from both women a soft, breathy sigh.
It wasn't innocent. It wasn't sinful….it was merely an answer for the beautiful siren's call.
Mai was, and would forever be, a hopeless romantic. Her nose buried in fairytales that spoke of everlasting love…her eyes glued to screens where the guy always got the girl in the end…the princess in those far away castles always meeting their prince charming. The idea of such happiness appealed to her, even in her own daily life, she could not go without love…without the touch of another that she so chose.
Shizuru was no prince, but this was no fairytale.
They were both probably more eccentric than either one of them cared to admit, but in the soft light of dawn, the covers drawn up close around them that didn't matter. Only the brush of lips, and the mapping of skin could come close…forever seeking that fleeting, breathless moment, waiting for nirvana to take them, as they moved as one, cloth cast aside, and modesty ripped apart like a knife, they would reach for that one, single moment. Drawing breathless prayers that such a thing shared between them would never truly come to an end.
Was it fate?
Not hardly…there was no silk thread to bind them. The crimson colored string simply didn't exist.
