Title: Unicorn in the Moonlight 7/?
Author & Email: DarkNekoShini QuaxoKatt@yahoo.com
Archive: Ask Respectively first.
Category: Au/fantasy
Rating: R
Warnings: None in this chapter
Spoilers: None
Notes: Eventually 3+4
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. Don't look at me like that. Don't. Stop. Stop looking at me like that. Now, what was I saying? Oh yeah, I don't own Gundam Wing.
Spoilers: None.
Authors note: My goodness, I was in such a rush to get the last chapter out, that I didn't catch my typo's. Please do forgive me, as it is rare for my back up singers (Oddly, I don't have a muse, I have Back up singers... o.O) to rear their heads. Thank you to *Everyone* that has read and reviewed! *Glomps* It means *So* much to me to get feed back! Thank you!!
Still not used to having hands and fingers, Quatre reached up to touch his swollen face, Inadvertedly applying too much pressure apon injured skin from inexperianced fingertips. He jerked his head back quickly, his eyes half closed in undisguised pain. Sighing softly, he gazed about the small, yet well apointed bedroom, shifting his feet beneath the furs that lay apon his lower legs and placing his hands to lay apon his lap. Moments later, Trowa appeared in the room and an ackward silence ensued.
Quatre gazed up to the tall human male, his eyes large with a curiousness that seemed to radiate from his very being. He tilted his head softly as Trowa crossed the room, noting that the human seemed to hold a sort of nervous wariness of the stranger in his bed. But they weren't strangers now. They knew each others name, Quatre had reasoned to himself last night as Trowa had taken residence beside of the fire to sleep, giving the fair youth his bed.
After a few more moments of uncomfortable silence, Quatre decided to speak as Trowa sat down at a well worn desk.
"What are you doing, friend Trowa?"
He didn't answer when the soft voice spoke to him, instead, pulling out a piece of white paper and a quill pen. He opened a jar of ink, careful to wipe the excess against the lip of the jar, as the ink was precious and hard to come by. Not to mention expensive.
"I wish to write..."
"What is to write?"
Trowa placed the tip of the quill to the paper, pausing as he explained. "It is to put words to paper."
"How does paper capture sound.. and what is paper?"
"Paper doesn't capture sound. I write down the letters that make the words apon the paper and you read them."
"Oh..." He didn't truly understand, as Unicorns didn't document anything apon paper. "What are you writing?"
Trowa paused in his work, his penmenship tidy and neat. "I take this time every night to write down on paper what has happened during my day."
"Is it so easy to forget what happens day by day?"
He turned in his seat, one delicate brow raised as he regarded the strange, injured boy in his bed. "How do you mean by that?"
"You said yourself that you write down what happens during your day at the end of it... I just thought that maybe you didn't have a very good memory."
Trowa blinked once, then turned back to his paper, shutting out the boy and the rest of his surroundings.
~~~
Trowa rose from his desk a few minutes after the large clock in the main room of the house struck midnight. Stretching his arms above his head, he stiffled a yawn with the back of his hand. Slipping his tunic over his head, he rubbed his fingers along his muscled chest, placing the doeskin material along the back of a chair. It was the one he had put on after the incident with the cow, and therefore, it was still clean. Reaching for the ties that held his leggins together, he tugged on them, pulling them off along with his boots until he stood nude before the fire.
Shadows danced along his tall, lean yet muscular frame. Sitting up slowly, Quatres eyes roaved over the form in an intense curiousity. Trowa was built just like him.. except taller and his skin held a darker hue. It was simply facinating. He was beautiful.
"Won't you get cold?"
Trowa jerked as if struck, trying to move in four directions at once at the sound of Quatre's voice. He had lost himself within his writing and had completely forgotten about Quatre.
"You... you shouldn't look at me like this.. it is not... right.."
"I'm sorry.. but I was as you are before.."
"You were injured.. and.. I do not know what became of your clothing." Trowa held up the large wolfskin blanket to cover most of his nude form.
"I've never had clothing before until I came here."
"How could you have survived the cold with no protective furs or skins?" Trowa lay down, wanting to believe that Quatre was lying to him, but somehow.. he knew that the blond was telling the truth. His gentle words held too much innocence.
Quatre shrugged. "I am new to this part of your world."
Trowa nodded. "Ah.. you must come from a warmer climate." He closed his eyes as he witnessed the blond head nodding rapidly.
"Good night, Quatre."
"Good night, Friend Trowa." He chirped softly. "I think you are... " He searched his memory for the human word. "Beautiful."
"Good *Night*, Quatre."
~~~
Catherine hummed a soft tune as she went about her morning chores in the kitchen. Now that it was winter, there really wasn't all that much to do, as the crops had been harvested months before and either dried and put up for the livestock, or canned for use for the people during the winter time.
She gazed out of the window. It was yet to snow, but already the ground was as hard as stone. She watched her brother, bundled up against the cold, take a wheelbarrow into the field by the house, removing stones from the field that could possibly break the plow come spring time.
He returned an hour later, the large rocks stacked neatly, as when he had enough, he would place them and mortar them against the house to give it more strength.
"You are up early this morning, brother." She opened the window, calling to him. He lifted his head, a sharp expression in his eye, one that she hadn't seen before. He looked... miffed. It was an expression that she didn't think he knew how to make.
"Are you hungry? I could heat up the stew... or if you go to the hen house and bring in some eggs.."
"No... thank you, I'll eat when you cook, but if you wish for eggs, I'll bring them in."
"I think that would be a wise idea, brother." She chuckled. "Lest we wait for spring for them to thaw out." Cathy closed the window as he trekked to the barn.
"Quatre? Would you like some bread?"
Quatre stood over the chamber pot, his brow narrowed. Blood had tinged his urine and he didn't know whether to not allow it to bother him, or to worry himself sick. He decided to let Catherine know.
"Miss Cathy..?"
"Yes?" It didn't take her long to pop her head into the flap at the door.
"I'm bleeding..."
"Where?" She stepped in quickly, moving to him. "Did one of your wounds open?"
"No.. it happened.." He felt a flush of shyness as he pointed into the pot. She chuckled softly. "You were hit pretty hard in the back.. I'm not surprised that you have bruises on your kidneys. It just means that you will be resting more and not being up. Let me go get some bread."
"I'm not going to die?"
"I wouldn't think so."
He sighed softly, feeling more at home in this human now as he cuddled beneath the covers.
~Tbc
An: I hope this chapter makes sense... *Chuckles* R&R onegai!
Author & Email: DarkNekoShini QuaxoKatt@yahoo.com
Archive: Ask Respectively first.
Category: Au/fantasy
Rating: R
Warnings: None in this chapter
Spoilers: None
Notes: Eventually 3+4
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. Don't look at me like that. Don't. Stop. Stop looking at me like that. Now, what was I saying? Oh yeah, I don't own Gundam Wing.
Spoilers: None.
Authors note: My goodness, I was in such a rush to get the last chapter out, that I didn't catch my typo's. Please do forgive me, as it is rare for my back up singers (Oddly, I don't have a muse, I have Back up singers... o.O) to rear their heads. Thank you to *Everyone* that has read and reviewed! *Glomps* It means *So* much to me to get feed back! Thank you!!
Still not used to having hands and fingers, Quatre reached up to touch his swollen face, Inadvertedly applying too much pressure apon injured skin from inexperianced fingertips. He jerked his head back quickly, his eyes half closed in undisguised pain. Sighing softly, he gazed about the small, yet well apointed bedroom, shifting his feet beneath the furs that lay apon his lower legs and placing his hands to lay apon his lap. Moments later, Trowa appeared in the room and an ackward silence ensued.
Quatre gazed up to the tall human male, his eyes large with a curiousness that seemed to radiate from his very being. He tilted his head softly as Trowa crossed the room, noting that the human seemed to hold a sort of nervous wariness of the stranger in his bed. But they weren't strangers now. They knew each others name, Quatre had reasoned to himself last night as Trowa had taken residence beside of the fire to sleep, giving the fair youth his bed.
After a few more moments of uncomfortable silence, Quatre decided to speak as Trowa sat down at a well worn desk.
"What are you doing, friend Trowa?"
He didn't answer when the soft voice spoke to him, instead, pulling out a piece of white paper and a quill pen. He opened a jar of ink, careful to wipe the excess against the lip of the jar, as the ink was precious and hard to come by. Not to mention expensive.
"I wish to write..."
"What is to write?"
Trowa placed the tip of the quill to the paper, pausing as he explained. "It is to put words to paper."
"How does paper capture sound.. and what is paper?"
"Paper doesn't capture sound. I write down the letters that make the words apon the paper and you read them."
"Oh..." He didn't truly understand, as Unicorns didn't document anything apon paper. "What are you writing?"
Trowa paused in his work, his penmenship tidy and neat. "I take this time every night to write down on paper what has happened during my day."
"Is it so easy to forget what happens day by day?"
He turned in his seat, one delicate brow raised as he regarded the strange, injured boy in his bed. "How do you mean by that?"
"You said yourself that you write down what happens during your day at the end of it... I just thought that maybe you didn't have a very good memory."
Trowa blinked once, then turned back to his paper, shutting out the boy and the rest of his surroundings.
~~~
Trowa rose from his desk a few minutes after the large clock in the main room of the house struck midnight. Stretching his arms above his head, he stiffled a yawn with the back of his hand. Slipping his tunic over his head, he rubbed his fingers along his muscled chest, placing the doeskin material along the back of a chair. It was the one he had put on after the incident with the cow, and therefore, it was still clean. Reaching for the ties that held his leggins together, he tugged on them, pulling them off along with his boots until he stood nude before the fire.
Shadows danced along his tall, lean yet muscular frame. Sitting up slowly, Quatres eyes roaved over the form in an intense curiousity. Trowa was built just like him.. except taller and his skin held a darker hue. It was simply facinating. He was beautiful.
"Won't you get cold?"
Trowa jerked as if struck, trying to move in four directions at once at the sound of Quatre's voice. He had lost himself within his writing and had completely forgotten about Quatre.
"You... you shouldn't look at me like this.. it is not... right.."
"I'm sorry.. but I was as you are before.."
"You were injured.. and.. I do not know what became of your clothing." Trowa held up the large wolfskin blanket to cover most of his nude form.
"I've never had clothing before until I came here."
"How could you have survived the cold with no protective furs or skins?" Trowa lay down, wanting to believe that Quatre was lying to him, but somehow.. he knew that the blond was telling the truth. His gentle words held too much innocence.
Quatre shrugged. "I am new to this part of your world."
Trowa nodded. "Ah.. you must come from a warmer climate." He closed his eyes as he witnessed the blond head nodding rapidly.
"Good night, Quatre."
"Good night, Friend Trowa." He chirped softly. "I think you are... " He searched his memory for the human word. "Beautiful."
"Good *Night*, Quatre."
~~~
Catherine hummed a soft tune as she went about her morning chores in the kitchen. Now that it was winter, there really wasn't all that much to do, as the crops had been harvested months before and either dried and put up for the livestock, or canned for use for the people during the winter time.
She gazed out of the window. It was yet to snow, but already the ground was as hard as stone. She watched her brother, bundled up against the cold, take a wheelbarrow into the field by the house, removing stones from the field that could possibly break the plow come spring time.
He returned an hour later, the large rocks stacked neatly, as when he had enough, he would place them and mortar them against the house to give it more strength.
"You are up early this morning, brother." She opened the window, calling to him. He lifted his head, a sharp expression in his eye, one that she hadn't seen before. He looked... miffed. It was an expression that she didn't think he knew how to make.
"Are you hungry? I could heat up the stew... or if you go to the hen house and bring in some eggs.."
"No... thank you, I'll eat when you cook, but if you wish for eggs, I'll bring them in."
"I think that would be a wise idea, brother." She chuckled. "Lest we wait for spring for them to thaw out." Cathy closed the window as he trekked to the barn.
"Quatre? Would you like some bread?"
Quatre stood over the chamber pot, his brow narrowed. Blood had tinged his urine and he didn't know whether to not allow it to bother him, or to worry himself sick. He decided to let Catherine know.
"Miss Cathy..?"
"Yes?" It didn't take her long to pop her head into the flap at the door.
"I'm bleeding..."
"Where?" She stepped in quickly, moving to him. "Did one of your wounds open?"
"No.. it happened.." He felt a flush of shyness as he pointed into the pot. She chuckled softly. "You were hit pretty hard in the back.. I'm not surprised that you have bruises on your kidneys. It just means that you will be resting more and not being up. Let me go get some bread."
"I'm not going to die?"
"I wouldn't think so."
He sighed softly, feeling more at home in this human now as he cuddled beneath the covers.
~Tbc
An: I hope this chapter makes sense... *Chuckles* R&R onegai!