Horse Tears, an InuYasha fanfiction.
By sunanempire (previously sparsi), who holds no rights over the fanbase, actual show and manga, or any mentions of song, literature or quotes.
T rated fanfiction; rating may rise in later chapters. Lemons and limes will be marked if so.
Apologies for the wait. Getting back into writing more frequently.
"Elderly stars slide down the morning sky, slipping away to find a place to die"
Shampaign, by Marina & the Diamonds
It had been a long time since Kagome spent more than a moment on her appearance. She'd forgone razors and many other future commodities, though in thought she knew once she returned, she'd beg her mother to buy her a lifetime subscription (if such a thing existed). Her makeup had run dry, mascara flaked from its container and the crayon that once lined blue eyes had a rather pungent smell. Disgusted, she cast them into the small waste bin, eyes wide when she saw tiny hands come through a latch on the other side and snag the basket, only to replace it with a new and desperately identical one.
Sesshoumaru must have taken great pride in cleanliness.
That or attentive slaves, she mused before turning her attention to the mirror. Fingers, no longer soft played with her hair, feeling sudden stress at the length she'd let it come to. How many split ends did the miko bear? She drew her lip in to chew, tipping her head to the side as she scrunched it all up. It was far too long to wear in a bun. A ponytail seemed much too masculine for this era.
The woman felt that she needed to fit in much more than she used to. If the time traveler truly wanted to belong, she'd have to mold to the lifestyle. With trepidation she toyed with the powders and shades before her, knowing that if she went too far with decoration she would be mistaken for a Geisha. Liquid, akin to simple ink was drawn with a brush as she lined her upper lids, choosing to avoid the lower. Simplicity was best.
A dab of blush, a sweep of pale peach across the lips and a few more toys with the hair and she was pleased, poking her head out of the door. The slave outside jumped to attention, eyes wide with anticipation. Kagome smiled as she spoke, "I don't suppose you could help me get dressed?"
"Yes, miko-sama." Inside, Kagome cringed at the title. Her nose scrunched slightly while she was helped into the heavy, beautiful outfit Sesshoumaru had offered to her. The man didn't say much when he had set the very large box on her bed, but looked at her expectantly. When the priestess had opened it, all the oxygen she could have had fled her body. Her knees felt weak at the beauty of the design.
A pearl white, drenched with a fierce fuchsia almost as red as his natural attire. Upon it, nature and baying, playful beasts of his home. Inu. She couldn't help but trace the intricate design again, relishing the memory as the slave nudged the beginning piece out of the box.
She stripped herself down bare and let the woman dress her, soon drenched in a heavy, lovely outfit. This was how the noble-women of this time dressed, the miko contemplated, blue eyes deepened with respect and sudden understanding. It was not long after that she sat, waiting for her Lord as he commanded.
The man had expressly given her a symbol of his house to show that she was to be held highly. A battle companion. A treasure to any that dared to approach. To claim. It made her flush like the school girl she used to be, feeling his generosity – a rare, kind moment in time.
As the slave left, she bowed deeply and spoke to someone outside the door. It was then that the silver-haired youkai entered, his amber eyes deepened with something she couldn't quite place. He raked over her outfit. He hummed, baritone taking a deeper dive than normal, "It suits you."
The tall demon walked to her and she bowed lightly, feeling the restraint of the many layers, in awe of his own outfit (which quite resembled her own) she gushed, "I can't express how much I love this gift. It's beautiful. Thank you, my Lord."
She recoiled faintly when he reached behind her and took hold of the thick braid she'd woven. One thin silver ribbon traced through the left, while a lovely pink ribbon traced the other side. The braid was pulled over her shoulder to her left side. A shorter strand pulled free to frame her right cheek. He scrutinized.
Better, he thought.
Perfect, his beast crooned.
With grace unparalleled he offered his arm, seeing her fuss to settle her own in it with her long sleeves. He guided her, letting her practice twice before offering again. She settled with comfort, cheeks not only rosy from the faint blush she'd applied, but deeper so from the kindness he offered. Through thick lashes she looked to him, suddenly shy as she took his presence, let alone his appearance in.
Perfect in every way, the thought swiped through her mind.