Outcastshipping (Thief King Bakura x Kisara)
The moon glittered across grains of sand, making the distant dunes look like the back of some scaled creature. Stars gleamed far above, as though trying to rival the number of sand grains below them. They rippled in the oasis reflection as Kisara stepped into water.
She sighed thankfully as days of sand and grit washed away from her legs. After a beat, she plunged herself completely in the water, soaking herself through. It was a foolish action, as the desert was growing colder and colder by the minute and the water clinging to her body would surely drop her temperature to dangerous lows. But she could not resist the idea of washing layers of dirt from her skin and mud from her hair. She pulled herself back up through the surface, and instantly, the cold snapped across her face like a slap. It was painful, but she could only laugh. She felt clean for the first time in days.
She started on the arduous task of cleaning the mud from her hair. Yesterday, she had coated her tresses in mud to hide the foreign color, looking to beg for food in a village over without being targeted. But she had not been able to hide her fair skin, even though she had tried to rub the sand into it, and had very nearly been sold to a slave trader before she could escape.
Slowly, the true white-blue color started to show through the mud, glowing in the moonlight although it was made of the rays themselves.
I should just cut it off, she thought to herself. Shave it and start wearing a wig, like the people do here. Then maybe I will blend in.
But as she ran her fingers through her hair, tears started to prick at her eyes. She would never be able to do it. Her hair was the last thing that reminded her of the home she had lost. She could never part with it.
She finished cleaning the mud and squeezed the excess water from her hair. Now the cold was starting to become uncomfortable. She rose to where the water almost reached her chest, hugging her bare arms. If only she had a towel. Putting her ragged dress back on would make the thin fabric cling to the water and she'd only be more cold. What had she been thinking, going into the water in the middle of the night? Never mind, it wasn't important. She could curse her own foolishness later.
"My, my, is that a goddess I see coming out of the water?"
Kisara froze. The voice was harsh and drawling – and definitely masculine. She wrapped her arms protectively around her bare chest, heart fluttering traitorously.
A silhouette stood at the edge of the water, his long coat hanging loosely around his frame. He stood between her and her only garment – she knew all too well what direction this meeting could take.
"A silent goddess?" the man said. "Or are you not a goddess at all, and I have merely frightened you."
"It is not respectful to approach a woman while she is bathing," Kisara said, her voice so thin even she could barely hear it.
The man laughed shortly. He paused. Then he turned around and picked up her ragged dress. Kisara stiffened. But before she could do anything, brace herself, or try to run, he turned around and flung the garment at her. She barely managed to catch it before it fell into the water.
"I'm not looking," he said, turning his back. There was a hint of amusement in his voice that made Kisara stay on guard. She hurriedly pulled the dress over her head, feeling much better now that she was covered.
"Will you leave the water, dear goddess?"
"Perhaps I won't," Kisara said. "For any number of demons could be walking this night. How do I know you're not one of them?"
The young man looked back over his shoulder. The moon caught the glint of his grin.
"How indeed?" he said slowly.
The cold was starting to burn Kisara's legs, and her feet had gone numb. She would have to leave the water soon if she wanted to avoid losing her feet. Grimacing, she walked slowly from the water. The night air burned terribly against her cold legs. But what was worse was being forced to come nearer to this strange apparition.
He turned around to meet her. Now that she was close, the moonlight illuminated his features. He was taller than her, with tanned skin, dark, narrow eyes, and an ugly scar down one side of his face. His red coat was of a fine material, much too fine for his rugged appearance. Most shockingly, however, his short, bushy hair was white in color.
"So, little goddess, what should I call you?" he asked.
"What should I call you, demon of the desert night?" Kisara shot back.
His smile turned predatory, and it took all of Kisara's willpower to stand her ground.
"I am Bakura," he said finally. "You have fire, little goddess. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."
Kisara waited a beat.
"I am Kisara," she said.
Bakura nodded.
"A foreign name for a foreign presence. Where are you from, little Kisara?"
"That is not of your concern."
"Ah, and what are you doing all alone in the night? Women should be more careful – after all, demons stalk the night, do they not?"
Kisara stiffened. A grin spread across Bakura's face, made eerie by the twisting of his scar.
"Ah, a fellow outcast. Tell me, how long since your last master, and is he still looking for you?"
Kisara looked up at him sharply.
"How did you know I was a slave?"
"The burns on your wrists. They come from only one place, little goddess. And rich men do love their foreign toys."
Kisara's lips tightened. He knew she was a former slave. She didn't like that – he could try any number of things. Although her former owners were dead, she did not fancy returning to the slave market.
"Is that horse yours?" he asked, nodding.
Kisara glanced in that direction, to where the stocky brown horse was nipping at faint patches of grass.
"Yes," she said. "That is Seti."
"And where did a slave girl come by a horse?"
Kisara folded her arms.
"You seem awfully curious."
"I am a curious person," Bakura said with a mock bow. "Sticking my nose where it doesn't belong is my specialty."
Kisara looked away from him. For a moment, the image of that boy, with his harsh, strong blue eyes danced across her eyes. She could still remember his scream of rage and hurt as she saw the village behind her burn...she remembered nothing after that. If not for her, his village would still be there. He must have known that. He must have known what danger he was putting himself in, saving her, a foreign slave worth more than he probably made in a year.
And he had saved her anyway. She longed to meet him again, to thank him.
"He was given to me," Kisara said finally. "By a boy with a good heart."
Bakura snorted.
"Good hearts do not exist, little goddess," he said.
"And you would know, wouldn't you?" Kisara said, raising an eyebrow.
She took a step back.
"I'm leaving now," she said. "I have spent too much time here already."
Faster than thought, his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. Kisara's mouth opened to scream, but she barely took a breath before he whipped her around into his chest and planted his hand over her mouth.
"Screaming won't do you much good out here, anyway, little goddess," Bakura hissed in her ear. "But I do prefer not to attract attention."
He removed his hand from her mouth, but did not let go of her wrist.
"Release me," Kisara said.
"No."
"Why?"
His grip tightened on her, and she was certain that he was grinning.
"Because I've taken a fancy to you, little goddess. And I don't let go of the things that catch my eye. I'm a thief, you understand. I take what I want."
Then take this, Kisara thought.
She thrust her elbow back into his chest. He let go in surprise. Kisara pushed herself forward, flinging herself towards her horse. But Bakura recovered quickly, grabbing her by the back of the neck and throwing her to the ground. Kisara rolled before he could fall on top of her. She caught the glint of metal swinging through the air. Kisara rolled backwards and up onto her feet. The knife hit the sand. She kicked out and send sand spiraling into the air, which flew into Bakura's eyes. He swore as he blinked the sand away. Kisara bolted.
And then, out of thin air, a monster appeared. This time she screamed – the thing was massive, a broad shouldered creature with horns from his head and no legs, just a long snake's tail that grew into a hissing snake's head at the tip. Kisara's terror froze her for just a second too long. The snake whipped out and wrapped around her, pinning her arms to her sides and yanking her into the air. Harsh scales pressed into her skin and squeezed the scream out of her.
She struggled, but it only grew tighter. She had to stop before her lungs became too compressed.
Bakura had risen to his feet by now.
"Have you met my ka monster?" he drawled. "Let me introduce you to Diabound."
"Let go of me, Bakura!"
"No, I don't think so," Bakura said.
Diabound lowered her so that Bakura could trace a finger down her cheek bone. She flinched at his touch, reminded all too well of other man's hands.
"See, I sense a very strong power inside you. Something that I could use against the pharaoh. You may not be a goddess...but that power of yours may rival the gods."
Kisara's ears were starting to pop. Her vision blurred in and out. She didn't think it had anything to do with the squeezing around her, because it hadn't gotten any tighter. No, she had felt this before – the day the boy's village had been burned to the ground...
Then everything turned to white light and ended.
She woke up to Seti lipping at her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open – then squeezed shut against the glare of the sun. She sat up.
She was still at the oasis. The sun appeared to have risen several hours ago.
Seti whinnied gently. Kisara looked up at him.
"You didn't leave me," she said, stroking the horse's nose in wonder. "Thank you."
Bakura was nowhere to be seen. Had it been a dream? She shook her head.
There were two sets of footprints in the sand. The remnants of terror stirred in her breast.
"Let's go," she whispered to Seti. She pulled herself onto its warm back, glad of the strong, calm bulk beneath her.
She rode on, oblivious to the dark, angry eyes that followed her from afar, and the gleaming white dragon that circled protectively overhead.
A/N: Ooh, dark and awesome! :D There is so much story potential for these two – although, no romance. Next is Otoutoshipping (Roba x Kyouto).
