This is just a little Kirika/Mireille vignette I wrote in a moment of
boredom. It is shoujo-ai, so if you don't like that, go read something
else. Suggestions and feedback would be most welcome.
The Silence Between Us
I watch her as she looks out the window, staring at something far in the distance. Occasionally, she sighs pensively, and a wistful look flashes briefly across her face, but then disappears almost as if it had never been. I find myself wondering, "What does she see? What is she thinking?" and I feel like I'm a breath away from figuring it out. I really can't explain it, but somehow, a contract between killers, born out of necessity, has grown into something deeper, a true partnership. It has become such that I really cannot recall what it was like to work alone; it feels like she has always been at my back, guarding me, as I guard her, and when we dance with death, I find myself unable to figure out where I end and she begins. Nothing can make my heart beat like she does; she makes my pulse race with fear and excitement, dread and anticipation. At night, when we lie back to back, I sometimes find myself unable to sleep, as I wish that I could turn over, and take her in my arms. I cannot help but wonder whether I will be able to fulfil the promise we made; I don't know if I can kill her. She turns to me suddenly, perhaps having felt my eyes upon her, and speaks. "Mireille?"
*****
I look out the window at a young couple sitting on a bench. Even from this far away, I can see that he looks at her with eyes filled with desire. She pretends not to notice, looking instead, at something in a shop window, all the while sneaking covert glances at him. I can see that it's a game that they play often, as she finally acknowledges his ardour, and they run off down the street giggling, thinking only of each other. I shift my gaze, to watch Mireille's reflection in the glass. She is sitting at her computer, but her eyes are not on the screen, and her mind does not appear to be on work.
I can feel Mireille's eyes burning into me, as she pretends to work at her computer. I think about turning to her and saying something, but for now, I'm content to simply bask in the warmth of her regard. She looks at me like that only when she thinks she's unobserved. I can't help but wonder if either of us will ever find the courage to break the silence on the feelings which lie between us, but I think we're both afraid of what would it would mean if those thoughts were given voice. I think that for now, we must remain silent, but even as I come to this decision, I find myself turning, and speaking her name, and as always it tastes impossibly sweet, like honey on my tongue.
"Mireille."
The Silence Between Us
I watch her as she looks out the window, staring at something far in the distance. Occasionally, she sighs pensively, and a wistful look flashes briefly across her face, but then disappears almost as if it had never been. I find myself wondering, "What does she see? What is she thinking?" and I feel like I'm a breath away from figuring it out. I really can't explain it, but somehow, a contract between killers, born out of necessity, has grown into something deeper, a true partnership. It has become such that I really cannot recall what it was like to work alone; it feels like she has always been at my back, guarding me, as I guard her, and when we dance with death, I find myself unable to figure out where I end and she begins. Nothing can make my heart beat like she does; she makes my pulse race with fear and excitement, dread and anticipation. At night, when we lie back to back, I sometimes find myself unable to sleep, as I wish that I could turn over, and take her in my arms. I cannot help but wonder whether I will be able to fulfil the promise we made; I don't know if I can kill her. She turns to me suddenly, perhaps having felt my eyes upon her, and speaks. "Mireille?"
*****
I look out the window at a young couple sitting on a bench. Even from this far away, I can see that he looks at her with eyes filled with desire. She pretends not to notice, looking instead, at something in a shop window, all the while sneaking covert glances at him. I can see that it's a game that they play often, as she finally acknowledges his ardour, and they run off down the street giggling, thinking only of each other. I shift my gaze, to watch Mireille's reflection in the glass. She is sitting at her computer, but her eyes are not on the screen, and her mind does not appear to be on work.
I can feel Mireille's eyes burning into me, as she pretends to work at her computer. I think about turning to her and saying something, but for now, I'm content to simply bask in the warmth of her regard. She looks at me like that only when she thinks she's unobserved. I can't help but wonder if either of us will ever find the courage to break the silence on the feelings which lie between us, but I think we're both afraid of what would it would mean if those thoughts were given voice. I think that for now, we must remain silent, but even as I come to this decision, I find myself turning, and speaking her name, and as always it tastes impossibly sweet, like honey on my tongue.
"Mireille."