Anyhoo...I by no manner claim that this actually happened...and I have a tiger...he sleeps on the floor so he tends to be grumpy...yeah.
* Two weeks later
Kuja was strolling down the hallway when he saw her coming. And when he noticed that she had failed to notice him, he deliberately walked into her path. His shoulder shoved against hers with such vigor that the two were forced to face each other.
"Would you watch where you're going?" she snipped hotly.
"My apologies, General," he cooed. "I didn't see you down there." Beatrix increased her height at his comment, but this was still lacking. She haughtily turned up her chin and turned on her heel to continue on her way. He wasn't finished yet. "I was looking through the items at my auction, and I came across this." He held out a small box. "It reminded me of you, so naturally, I figured you'd like to keep it." She watched his eyes as she slowly reached out for the parcel. There was no hint of ill will, so she took it.
"True, I can't have you thinking about me," she nodded briskly, an indifferent look on her face. Her hands, however, which now gently cradled the small package close to her, told him otherwise.
"Yes, that's what I figured," he returned the nod with the slightest hint of a smile. However, before she could be sure of that smile, he was continuing down the hall in that smooth, swaggering way of his. Her gaze lingered at the naked small of his back until she realized that she was watching him. She continued in the opposite direction, although now she had quite forgotten what her business was. So instead, she returned to her quarters. Her hands shook faintly as she opened the box and pulled out its contents: a decidedly detailed glass sculpture with an imperfection at its center. She frowned at the twinkling glass owl and wondered if he knew how she had lost her eye. Did he dare mock her with an owl? Before her anger could get to her, she noticed something about the imperfection at the center. Upon further inspection, she realized that the little white cloud was in the shape of a dove. And this reminded him of me? She gazed at the ornament for a very long time, wondering why he had given it to her and what kind of person he might be to give it to her. What do you expect to gain from an owl? She silently asked the glittering figure. For some reason, it did not draw any of the painful flashbacks that she feared at first. Kuja…?
***
Beatrix knew not the why of what she did, only that she
did not want to think of him any more than she wanted him to think of her.
It was a good excuse, at least. However, it seemed as if sometimes he could
tell what she was thinking. Or worse, what she was feeling. Both were disturbing
notions. She didn't even know what she was feeling half the time.
She wanted Kuja out of her life: of this much she was certain. So she found
him on the balcony, staring at the twin moons through the exquisite painted
windows. She was painfully aware of the fact that she was not to be as smooth
as he had been; however, she was not attempting to accomplish the same sort
of thing as he had been. No, she would be unapproachable."I thought I might find you here," she lied. It sounded like a haughty thing to say.
"What's wrong?" he turned to look her straight in her good eye.
"Wrong?" She blinked. Everything, you cad.
"You said you were looking for me," he turned his head in that mock-inquisitive manner of his. She watched his locks of spun silver fall from his shoulder and glanced also to the ones that fell on his face. "I assumed, therefore, that something was wrong, for there is no other reason I can think of for you to look for me." Beatrix could only hope the color did not rise in her cheeks. Damn you, Kuja. I know I'm no good at these games… There was no reason for her to be. How she desperately wished she could just run him through and be done with it.
"Um… I had a reason… I just didn't want to be thinking of you," she said passing him a small white box. He took it from her hand, his fingers fleetingly brushing hers.
"Of course," the smile was there, at the corners of his mouth, "we can't have that, now can we?" She shook her head rapidly and made off the way she came, a little more quickly than strictly necessary. He smiled in full when she had gone, and inspected the little package. Perhaps it is the owl again? I sincerely doubt it. Beatrix is far too interesting for that. He savored the unknowing for a while; it was never that he received things in boxes. He was proven correct as he opened it, pulling out a good-sized stone. It was perfectly blue. Hmm… What is this? Ultima substance? No… He held it up to the moonlight, and his breath caught in his throat. The stone was still blue, but in the light it shone a deep crimson at its heart. Lucky guess, Beatrix? Or do you know more than you're letting me on? How did you pick up on this? He gazed at the place where he saw her last, but she had left. Now what? he thought, completely baffled. He had a sudden urge to see her again, what had just transpired had been too much and too little. He was at a stalemate with a Gaian. He could make no further moves… What a woman…
***
Beatrix couldn't sleep. She tried hiding the owl, but
her answers lay not with the glass figure. She hid all things silver from
catching her eye, but the liquid metal shone thoroughly in her mind. She
moved about her room like a restless lioness. No comfort was found in her
bed; no ease of agitation was available from the view of the sleeping city.
It was one in the morning, and she was still thinking about Kuja.
This enraged her, what will it take to get you out of my head?! True,
he was unlike any other man she'd met, but this was not necessarily a good
thing. She glanced at her clock; it was now 1:30. She rolled off her rumpled
pillows and got dressed. He's a mage, right? Maybe this is his doing
. Tonight, he was just down the hall. She slipped through the sleeping corridor
to stand before the oaken door that led to his room. Taking a deep breath,
she rapped on it quickly. After two tedious minutes without an answer, she
knocked again, more urgently this time. Come on you… I know you're in
there, so you can't hide from me. After seconds that seemed like hours,
she heard a faint stirring within. The door opened, to reveal a groggy and
less than groomed Kuja. He had obviously not been losing any sleep
over her."Yes…?" he grumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He was more naked than usual, now dressed in nothing but a loose, silken loincloth. She looked up at his face to delightedly witness the authentic surprise that registered on his face when he realized that the caller was herself.
"We need to talk," she stated.
"At this—"
"Now." she insisted. He ran a hand through his incredibly long hair then shrugged, opening the door wider as he receded into the room. Some white light sparked at his fingertips as he waved them over the candelabra, leaving all five wicks lighted. She closed the door and stood opposite the bed, which he had just sat down on.
"Fine," he said, although it was relatively clear that it was not fine at all. "What is it?"
"I insist that you stop this," she demanded formally.
"Stop what?" She had never seen Kuja look so confused, but he was half asleep.
"Whatever this is…that you're doing to me… This spell that has kept me up thinking of you… Stop it."
"…I have cast no such spell," he offered gently after a moment of staring at her. He's not so intimidating now, Beatrix thought. But if he honestly hasn't… He would have smeared that fact in my face.
"I don't believe you," she snorted. "For what other reason would I lose sleep over the thought of you, the pestering thought of you , that will not go away?" Kuja raised a solitary eyebrow over an expression that shadowed amusement.
"That, General, I wouldn't know," he soothed.
"How dare you suggest that I have feelings for you?!" she all but screeched.
"Did I?" He was obviously was awake now, and fully functional. He wasn't so nice anymore, and she just wanted to end this. She threw her sword on the ground between them, and placed her hands on her hips defiantly.
"I just want this stupid game to end, Kuja with no other name. Do your worst; I've never lost." He looked over at the candelabra, and four of the lights winked out, leaving the one standing, dimly lighting the room with odd shadows in between.
"You have just challenged the wrong man." He stood up, his slender frame glowing in the candlelight, as if it possessed it's own shine.
"Be assured that I will not hesitate to kill you," she warned, her eyes narrowing at his acceptance of a duel. Lightly, he stepped over the Save the Queen to stand a few feet in front of her.
"I don't doubt it," this time, there was indeed a smile…a true smile. And his soul was there, in all its vagrant vainglory, resting on its windowsill with all the lonesomeness of poor Juliet. It was all quite clear to her now: he desperately needed someone, but he would look to no one. It was also apparent, that not even she was worthy to him. So you bare yourself to me like this because you don't think I'm capable of either helping or destroying you?! She slapped him. Or tried to. His impossibly fast hand was up, catching her wrist. She drew in a breath in utter amazement that he could be that strong, that she was truly in a dangerous situation. However, he took only what was given freely, taking her hand in both of his and examining it closely. She shivered as he traced her lifeline with his finger, an odd feeling consuming her as he studied her fingers ever so slowly, ever so gently, as one might scrutinize a sculpture or other work of art. She blushed, realizing that her fingernails were far less than perfect. Why would I care about that?! He was captivating her very mind, and she didn't like that. Not at all.
She struck again, kicking at his bare leg. Their shins connected as he blocked this as well. He was still captivated by her hand, caressing it as one might comfort an injured bird. After a moment of standing with their shins together, she attempted once more. Her other hand lunged for his milky-white cheek. This time, she stopped it herself, her fingers gliding across his face as swans might land on water. His heel slid behind hers, drawing her close to him. She did not resist…her anger had been melted away by her sudden compassion, and lust, for him. Perhaps…perhaps we are lonely the same way? she tried to excuse her pleasure. She sighed softly as their hips locked together. She took her hand from him to run it through the silver stream that trickled noiselessly down his back. His hands found their way to her back and her hair. No words were spoken; neither of them was capable of saying anything worthwhile. His head dropped its altitude, his nose brushed hers, and he lingered close to her mouth. Conversely, it was Beatrix who kissed Kuja.
Do your worst! I too have never lost!
Eh, for all the good that does me.
If you love Kuja, either put on a thong or go read the INDWELLING (author: Keeper of Lies).
Or both.
This means you, Beatrix!
