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rainy-rose · 4 years

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oops I just saw u already did 7, so pls can you do 21 instead (if you want to of course x) ?

Hullo, Tay! ^^ Thank you for the asked. I haven’t done 7 yet, so I did them both in this one. A bit of context, this are Elise and Vicent, somewhere in the pre plot of Silver Serpent, a few days after they first met each other. Hope you like it ^^

7. silent fury

21. collapse

The boxing bag flew from its rack and collapsed against the opposite wall with a hard thud. Pity… It was one of the new ones… and now it had a gaping hole in the middle of it. Elise cursed under her breath and shook her bloody, unbandaged hands. She had been punching the thing for quite a while now. She was the only one there and had been for the better part of an hour. Her skin was prickly, the sweat on the surface cooled her body a bit, but it did nothing to quench the anger that was boiling beneath. Ignoring the protest of her hands she started doing sit-ups. The punching bag was enough destruction for one evening.

Some minutes later, the door to the station training room opened and Elise got up, taking her right earbud out. “You’re late!” she scolded her mentor of a few days through gritted teeth.

Vincent barely glanced her way and walked to sit down on one of the benches, his canine companion at his feet. He placed a cigarette between his thin lips. His face was emotionless, unimpressed by her tone, if not relaxed, as if deciding on a time for training and then ignoring it was completely normal. This did not sit well with Elise. She had better things to do on a Friday evening! She clenched her fists, blood dripping, and walked towards him trembling with silent fury, green eyes boring into him. She almost wished she had laser eyes, not strength. “You’re two bloody hours late!” she barked when she got in front of him.

The man’s dog got up and growled in warning, so she took two steps back out of respect for the animal that was just doing his job. Her demeanor had not changed however, her bright green eyes had a dangerous glint in them, her teeth were clenched, and lips pressed in a thin line. Her face was set in a dark, guarded expression, her body stiff, ready to strike. Vincent crossed a leg over the other and blinked at her once, slowly, patiently, infuriatingly. He somehow managed to look down at her from his sitting position, the left corner of his mouth quirking in a small mocking smile. “Heal yourself and give me twenty laps!” he said in a monotone voice, disregarding her previous complains.

“What?!” she started, feeling the anger growing. She knew he could feel it too, their still healing mentorship tattoos made sure of that.

“Twenty-five laps” he said instead of a response, petting the dog’s head.

“How about an explanation for making me waste this much time! Or at least an apology!” Her voice deepened, her tone threatening.

He got up and walked towards her, uncuffing the sleeves of his dark blue shirt. He grabbed her wrist and held it tight, almost painfully so. Elise tried getting away, pulling at her arm, stepping backwards as not to accidentally hurt him. He just followed her; his steel gaze met her burning one. A faint reddish glow appeared between his fingers, spreading a warm sensation through her body. The skin on her hands slowly closed, the bleeding stopping.

“Thirty. Keep this up, O’Duinn, and I’ll have you do fifty. Now go!” he said calmly, letting go of her wrist and turning back to the bench. The cigarette was in his hand now, still unlit.

Elise looked at the back of his head, frowning. She appreciated the healing, but that did nothing for the need to punch him. The only reason she was not giving into that temptation was that she did not feel like paying for his hospital bill.

“Thirty-five!” he said calmly, sitting on the bench, the cigarette back between his lips.

“Asshole!” Elise murmured putting the earbud back in and started running. The dog joined her, his long, thin legs issuing a challenge she was not about to refuse.

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rainy-rose · 5 years

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Silver Serpent: Takeru and Vincent

Hullo, I needed to work a bit on Vincent and Takeru and their friendship before the plot and this snipped happened. I am not entirely pleased with it, but it id help me find out more about my boys. Enjoy! ^_^

TW: vague implication of a past suicide attempt

Waves came crashing on the rocks and shore. The air was thick with the smell of sea salt. The wind was lifting the sand and constantly moving it around, displeased with its position and frustrated that it could not dislocate larger chunks. On the horizon dark grey clouds were slowly making their way towards Rockcliffe Beach.

On a flat, light grey boulder, Takeru was laying on his side with his back to the water, a half-finished cigarette in the corner of his lips, and a black backpack with a small flashlight hanging from one of the zippers at the base of the rock. The rising gale was playing in his hair, long, thick, dark strands going all over the place, especially in his mouth and eyes. He shook his head. There were two black hairbands around his left wrist, but the intention of using them was nowhere to be found. Bored, seemingly uninterested dark brown, almost black eyes were slowly following the animals. Running around on his long slim legs, Schilo, the greyhound mix was snapping playfully at the peregrine falcon which was flying just a few inches above his muzzle. Hiei’s strong beak was open, short high pitched calls alternating with longer variously pitched ones. The dog was barking in response, an inviting delighted sound sometimes turning into a low, nonthreatening growl. They were fun to watch, their friendship always blooming despite their differences.

A short distance away, shoes and socks in hand, water lapping at his feet and ankles, Vincent was making his way towards the boulder. He had been walking for a while, listening to the calming sound of the waves. The last few weeks had been tiring, work piled up, urgent foreign requests for help keeping him up late into the night. He had been tired, stressed, sloppy and aggressive in conducting the training of his disciples. When his friend had suggested the quick getaway he was so quick to accept that he bumped his knees on the desk, cursing.

‘I’m going for a swim!’ he said in a monotone reaching the stone and taking off his light coat and shirt. It was cold, barely April, but Vincent did not feel it, his body temperature running higher than everybody else’s, his blood hot as the fires that were bending to his every whim and will. ‘I won’t be long!’ he added taking off the silver necklace he always wore and handing it over.

‘Careful!’ Takeru’s soft baritone rose slightly over the noise all around them. The cold metal of the zippo touched hardly touched the scrapped skin of his palm before long slender fingers closed around it and he was putting it around his neck for safe keeping.

And like that Vincent was gone, running into the water. Growing up next to the sea in a small Romanian town, swimming came natural to him. The waves were getting higher, the clouds closer, a storm imminent. He did not care! With every stroke he was getting deeper and deeper, farther and farther his body welcoming the exercise, the resistance of the current. Holding his breath, he dived in. The water was murky, impossible to see through. Less than twenty seconds passed before he rose to the surface and in another ten he was going under again. Getting used to the temperature was easy, by the fifth dive, the water around him was warming up a little, steam spiraling from the surface. Relief washed all over him. Closing his eyes he floated on his back, arms moving lazily from time to time. The temptation of staying there for hours was growing with every minute. It was so pleasant! He had not done this in almost a year and he missed it greatly!

Diving again, he searched blindly for the bottom, arms outstretched, legs and feet moving in a precise rhythm. Despite having enough air, his lungs started to hurt a bit after a short while. The pressure and tiredness were taking a toll on him. He ignored them and kept going deeper and deeper. The bottom was nowhere to find, but the water was getting colder, the air running out. He ignored the sensation, putting more force towards his goal. A small ray of light breached the darkness over his shoulder. He blinked confused, dizziness creeping in on him.

Something strong and slim coiled around his middle pulling him upwards. Looking around, the light was dancing in a strange pattern. Instincts kicked it. Increasing the heat in his hands he grabbed the thing, trying to free himself. It didn’t bulge. He tried again, higher and higher. It was an arm connected to a body. Shit!

Two heads emerged from the restless waves. Both had slightly tanned skin, one’s hair was cut short, the other’s was long and flowing. One was freezing, teeth chattering, the other was caught between confusion and remorse. Bright blue eyes met black.

‘I- id – a - aho!’ Takeru grumble stuttered, swimming towards the beach. His moves were difficult and slow, pain was running up and down his body. Teeth sank into cold numbed lips. The salt water was making everything worse. With every move of his hands the flashlight was nowhere to be seen. ‘W- What were you t - thinking?’ he asked as soon as they were back on the dry sand and in warm trousers. The pain subsided a little, the burns not deep enough to bleed. ‘What w- were you thinking?’ he asked again, throwing him the lighter. His tone was flat, anger hidden under layers and layers of indifference. Cold was chipping away at his control.

Vincent stared at him, not giving an answer. Not immediately anyway. He finished getting dressed, put the harness on Schilo and handed Takeru his own shirt and coat together with the leather glove for Hiei. ‘I was swimming, trying to reach the bottom’ he shrugged touching his friend’s arm, a green, heeling glow at the tip of his fingers.

Takeru looked at him, analyzing, running the words through his head, sniffing out for lies. Power coated the words, searching, separating, extracting the tone in which they were spoken and the emotions behind it, deconstructing that even further, until the truth stood out clear in his mind, Vince’s truth.

They had been here before, a few times, and afterwards he had spent hours upon hours in an uncomfortable plastic or wooden chair in a hospital’s waiting room. ‘You’re not lying’ he sighed, a small twinge of relief in his voice.

‘No, I’m not.’

Their eyes met, unspoken apologies, reassurances, admissions and fears passing between them. Neither needed to hear them to know they existed. Vincent broke the contact first by moving his head towards the hotel. As he was walking the sand stuck to his feet bringing back childhood memories of long summer days. They walked in comfortable silence. Neither was a talker. They had Ingrid for that. When the older woman was not there they made do snuggling in the other’s quietness.

In their room, Takeru went first to shower, leaving Vincent to clean the animals and open the two windows, welcoming the storm. As he came out of his own, brief shower he found his friend sitting on the bed, dressed in oversized gray pajamas, damp hair pulled up in a bun, a jar of soothing muscle reliever in hand. It was almost dark outside, lightning, thunder and wind chasing each other.

‘The gods are having fun?’ Vincent asked, rubbing the water out of his short black hair.

Belief in the Shinto gods had been a part of the Matsuda family for countless generations. Takeru was not as devoted as the rest of his relatives, but he did hold the god of wind, Fujin and the thunder and lightning god Raiden in high regard. Few people outside his family knew about this aspect of his life, labeling his fascination with storms as just another quirk. Another strange thing to look at and gossip about.

‘Or sex’ he shrugged, vaguely amused, breathing in the clean humid air coming through the window.

‘Or both.’ There was a knowing smile on his face, blue eyes glinting. The invitation was missing however. They’d had their own fun, from time to time along the years.

Vincent took the jar reading the label. It was one of those ointments that heated up after application. It felt nice, smelled pleasant and made him sleepy. He took off his sleeping T-shirt, laying on the clean white sheets. Two red wrapping towels were stacked next to the pillow.

Takeru straddled his legs. Vincent was well built, his back muscles beautifully defined. This white scars took over most of the skin, the worst ones on the nape. That area was out of boundaries. The cream was think between his palms, but it was absorbed quickly, Vincent visibly relaxing under his touch. His breathing slower, more stable. He was working in precise sections, coating everything in an even, thin layer. It took quite some time, and he had to bend forward more than once to care for his upper arms as well. By the time he reached his lower back, Vincent had fallen asleep, light snores escaping thin parted lips. Takeru kept working, fingers playing over the skin as if it was they keys of a well-tuned piano.

The towels were soft and thick. Putting them around the sleeping man without waking him up was not easy. Vincent was a light sleeper, but Takeru had a lot of practice. He knew where to press, to guide his body. Vincent feeling comfortable around him helped a lot. The covers were left unused, unneeded. He settled beside him with a manga, not actually paying attention to the black and white panels or the strings of kanji that formed the dialogue. Instead he kept watch over his friend, ready to intervene in case of a nightmare or worse a night terrors.

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