Tumblr word prompt by whos-that-foxi-lady. In which things get fluffy and lame and probably OOC.
Caligynephobia; Fear of beautiful women.
Maka was not having a very good day.
It had started with a mildly irritating thing; she'd woken up and discovered a pimple brewing smack dab in the middle of her cheek. Then she'd found a hole in the only pair of trousers she had that even came close to fitting her, so right now she was swimming in a pair of Marie's castoffs. Her hair was absolutely refusing to cooperate in any way, shape, or form, to the point of Kid actually grimacing and informing her that her crooked pigtails were going to give him heartburn.
Maka could have handled all of this, though. It wasn't as if she were the kind of girl particularly invested in her looks; half the time, she was running around covered in mud and horsehair anyway. She wouldn't have minded so much if she weren't currently surrounded by six of the most unfairly beautiful women on the continent.
Mira was sitting to her right, bandages so white they were nearly glowing. Sunlight filtered through the branches of the willow overhead, and the pattern of light and dark it painted on Mira made her look like a piece of art in progress, quick lovely brushstrokes brought to life by the sly glint in her black eyes.
Tsubaki, on Maka's left, was equally gorgeous, sitting with her feet curled gracefully up under her pink skirts. Maka felt one hand rise miserably to her pathetic, drooping pigtails as she watched Tsubaki's dark waterfall of hair glimmer against the vibrant backdrop of her tattoos.
She didn't want to look at Liz, Marie, and Pattie, but she did anyway, and immediately regretted it as a wave of self-consciousness swept over her. They were all so golden and bright, and if Liz's pretty perfect face was a little tense and suspicious, it only served to make Pattie and Marie glow more in comparison.
"Maka, are you all right?" Blair said curiously, immaculately lacquered fingernails raking through a lock of purple hair.
"Oh, yes, sorry," Maka said with forced brightness. She tried to look away from Blair, but somehow her gaze got stuck in the ripe cleavage spilling out of the other woman's blouse. It wasn't fair. How on earth did these women do it? They were all so different, so unique, and they were all very dangerous, which made them even more beautiful. "Actually, I forgot something," Maka choked to no one, pushing herself up and hurrying away across the field.
Pattie blinked limpidly after her. "What's wrong with Maka?"
"Don't know," Liz said, frowning. The women all looked at each other with raised brows.
"Maka, you in here?"
She cringed and had to swallow before she could speak. "Yes. Come on in." Soul opened up the door to Tsubaki's trailer and poked his ruffled white head in, holding something out to her.
She did a double take. "Flowers?" Surely her eyes were deceiving her.
He grunted irritably, focusing on her shoes. "Pattie put her gun to my head and told me I had to bring you some. What the hell did you say to her, anyway? She's fucking terrifying when she wants to be."
"She- she- really? I didn't say anything to her, but thank you," Maka said in embarassed, delighted confusion, taking the bouquet from him and sneaking a quick sniff. They smelled wonderful.
"Eh. Well, anyway, there you go," Soul said brusquely, sounding rather as if he'd just hacked off his own arm and handed it over. He was about to shut the door and make good on his escape when he froze.
She turned back to him, brows raised. "What?"
It seemed he'd finally raised his eyes from her shoes, because he was staring her with a rather thunderstruck expression. "What the hell are you wearing?" he croaked after a moment.
Maka felt her face burning as she smoothed a hand over the pale gray silk of her skirt, part of a performance outfit borrowed from Mira. No doubt she looked ridiculous, like a little girl playing dressup. Mira was built like a blade, smooth purposeful curves and defined spare lines; in this outfit, she would have been astonishing. But it was just a little too big for Maka, particularly in the hips, and she tugged at it helplessly, growing more upset the longer Soul eyed her.
Finally she burst out, "I know I look silly, all right, you didn't have to say anything!" To her absolute dismay, she could feel a beginning prick behind her eyes that told of tears.
But then Soul said, a bit gruffly, "That's not what I meant. You look fine. You look, ah, well-" Then he stumbled to a stop and returned his gaze to her shoes.
She looked at him, not understanding until she saw the flush painting his cheeks. "Oh," she mouthed.
"You look pretty," he mumbled before whirling away and slamming the door behind him.
She looked at the flowers and then back down at the shining silvery fabric swaying around her thighs. The way he'd looked at her just then- it was the same way Sid looked at Mira, or Black Star at Tsubaki, or Stein at Marie. Those beautiful women- and yet Soul chose to look at her that way, messy boyish Maka, like she was one of them.
She made sure to put the flowers in water before heading out to prepare for her performance, and when she stood in a line beside all the other women to take a bow at the end of the show, she thought about Soul's face and for once, she wasn't so afraid she didn't belong.