Theme + Number: Smooth, #9
Warnings: Ten foot blast radius? Mild language.
Summary: Obligatory examination of partner's hands.
Her hands are whisper enfleshed, long white fingers that she keeps hidden in sleeves most of the time as if they were too delicate for the sun or even a gaze to glance across. Time given over to kissing them is well-spent, not only for the soft breathy sounds she makes, but for the way her fingerpads move against my lips, a deft light pulse that seems to be coaxing my dead heart to beat.
Those hands. Have you ever wondered what she does with them on those rare nights when we are snug in our rooms in an inn where one Ronso or Blitzballer in the hallway is adequate for a guard?
Have you ever seen her reach carelessly into the fading body of a fiend that's just fallen to someone's sword or her thunderbolt? In that last second before it's gone, she'll pluck out a bone or a tiny knot of crystal or a feather or a scale, working it loose gently with her nails, and hand it over to Rikku for her mad little experiments. It's a scavenger's caress, but Lulu makes that, too, look like poetry.
Have you ever noticed that pitiless, emphatic twist as she brings her cupped palms together in a mockery of Yevon's prayer? I expect the fiend's neck to snap spontaneously, without need for a lightning bolt to do the job.
I have sampled those nights and survived them, possibly because a second death is not an option. I wonder if Chappu ever received the treatment. That moment when sparks are tumbling off her nails like flying embers, and the lines of fleeting fire across my hips and scarred chest are flickering stealthily towards one goal, I just might get religion again if I don't kill her first. Unnerving danger turns to cool, clear water at the last moment.
"Still alive?" she asks, her fingers smooth and knowing as she begins to work that damned magic in places where magic absolutely should NOT be used. The frost constricts my throat, although it's nowhere near my face.
That's right. Soft. Like new snakeskin.
Smooth as a sword-blade arcing down for the spot where head and neck part ways.