antivanruffles (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
antivanruffles) wrote2012-12-30 12:56 pm
antivanruffles) wrote2012-12-30 12:56 pm
Entry tags:
My Secret Santa fic!
Title: Goodwill
Prompt: This Lovely Quote
Characters: Beryl, Usagi
Rating: PG for mild angst?
A/N: Posting for posterity. Was written for SailorCopperOwl.
Snowflakes drifted down in lazy circles. The once clear sidewalk looked as if it had been sprinkled with powdered sugar, the crystalline flakes so fluffy and fat and light.
Polished black boots with a warm, wool lining plodding along the street. No cars or people were about, leaving the lone figure with only silence; the gentle snowfall muting the world until it seemed eerily quiet, ghostly.
Leather gloved hands buried themselves deeper into a suede muffler, seeking more warmth in the fleece lined interior. Soft breaths puffed out in white clouds, and pale cheeks stung slightly from the cold as they deepened to a rosy pink.
Finally the figure came to its destination, stopping in the middle of the street. The house across the way shone like a beacon in the night. Boughs of evergreens, strung with blinking lights, lined the walkway, and a large wreath with a giant red bow covered the majority of the front door. Lights were on in nearly every window facing the street, dulled to a soft glow by frilly draperies or blinds.
All except the largest window, one that showed a perfect Christmas setting in an immaculate living room. A tree had been placed in one corner, near the window, blazing with white lights. Baubles hung from the branches in reds and yellows and pinks and blues and greens. Gathered around the tree were five joyously happy couples, all laughing and joking and sipping from steaming cups of cocoa or cider.
With a sense of longing and regret, the figured sighed. She had known it a silly thing to try to find them, she wasn’t even sure how she’d done it. But she had, and now she stood wondering why she ever came. This was not a place for her. She wanted it to be, longed for that with every bit of her being, but it was not to be hers. Not now. Not ever. Not here. Not anywhere.
She suddenly felt a fool for even trying. She hastened to leave, worried they might see her. On a normal night her dark clothing would have blended with the shadows, hiding her, but with the snow around her, it illuminated her in stark contrast.
With a shake of her head, she turned back the way she had come, one hand reaching up to pull her stole a little closer around her neck.
She was half down the street when she heard muffled steps behind her. Whirling around she spotted a tiny figure dashing toward her. The girl--no, the young woman -- wore a fluffy pink sweater, white mittens covered her hands and a matching scarf had been hastily wrapped around her neck, billowing out behind with her stream of golden hair. She had forgotten a coat in her rush.
“Wait,” she called.
Jogging to a stop, she bent forward and placed her hands on her knees while she caught her breath. After a moment she straightened and they stood staring at each other. However the young woman’s eyes were too blue, too sincere and the other was forced to look away, ashamed.
“I should never have come,” she whispered. “I was a fool. A blighted fool to even think it. But I am no longer the person I was. I am no longer touched by Metalia or Chaos. I am but a simple woman, reborn with many regrets. Too many regrets,” she breathed, voice hitching.
“I thought perhaps I could seek forgiveness, like them.” She nodded back toward the house, where a group of young soldiers stood with their prince. “But I am not them. My sins are far too great. I am sorry.” She turned again, but the younger woman stopped her.
“What’s your name? In this life?”
“Branka,” she said as she turned around again.
“I’m Usagi.” The blonde nodded. The pair stood facing each other again, but Branka could not bring herself to look in Usagi’s eyes a second time.
“I should go,” Branka started to say, but Usagi spoke over her.
“It’s cold out. You should come inside for some hot cocoa.” She held out one small, mitten-covered hand. Branka looked at it for a moment, then brought herself to look up at Usagi’s face; she was smiling gently, her eyes soft. “Please?”
Branka nodded and withdrew one of her hands from her muffler, slipping it into Usagi’s, allowing the young woman to lead her home.
Prompt: This Lovely Quote
Characters: Beryl, Usagi
Rating: PG for mild angst?
A/N: Posting for posterity. Was written for SailorCopperOwl.
Snowflakes drifted down in lazy circles. The once clear sidewalk looked as if it had been sprinkled with powdered sugar, the crystalline flakes so fluffy and fat and light.
Polished black boots with a warm, wool lining plodding along the street. No cars or people were about, leaving the lone figure with only silence; the gentle snowfall muting the world until it seemed eerily quiet, ghostly.
Leather gloved hands buried themselves deeper into a suede muffler, seeking more warmth in the fleece lined interior. Soft breaths puffed out in white clouds, and pale cheeks stung slightly from the cold as they deepened to a rosy pink.
Finally the figure came to its destination, stopping in the middle of the street. The house across the way shone like a beacon in the night. Boughs of evergreens, strung with blinking lights, lined the walkway, and a large wreath with a giant red bow covered the majority of the front door. Lights were on in nearly every window facing the street, dulled to a soft glow by frilly draperies or blinds.
All except the largest window, one that showed a perfect Christmas setting in an immaculate living room. A tree had been placed in one corner, near the window, blazing with white lights. Baubles hung from the branches in reds and yellows and pinks and blues and greens. Gathered around the tree were five joyously happy couples, all laughing and joking and sipping from steaming cups of cocoa or cider.
With a sense of longing and regret, the figured sighed. She had known it a silly thing to try to find them, she wasn’t even sure how she’d done it. But she had, and now she stood wondering why she ever came. This was not a place for her. She wanted it to be, longed for that with every bit of her being, but it was not to be hers. Not now. Not ever. Not here. Not anywhere.
She suddenly felt a fool for even trying. She hastened to leave, worried they might see her. On a normal night her dark clothing would have blended with the shadows, hiding her, but with the snow around her, it illuminated her in stark contrast.
With a shake of her head, she turned back the way she had come, one hand reaching up to pull her stole a little closer around her neck.
She was half down the street when she heard muffled steps behind her. Whirling around she spotted a tiny figure dashing toward her. The girl--no, the young woman -- wore a fluffy pink sweater, white mittens covered her hands and a matching scarf had been hastily wrapped around her neck, billowing out behind with her stream of golden hair. She had forgotten a coat in her rush.
“Wait,” she called.
Jogging to a stop, she bent forward and placed her hands on her knees while she caught her breath. After a moment she straightened and they stood staring at each other. However the young woman’s eyes were too blue, too sincere and the other was forced to look away, ashamed.
“I should never have come,” she whispered. “I was a fool. A blighted fool to even think it. But I am no longer the person I was. I am no longer touched by Metalia or Chaos. I am but a simple woman, reborn with many regrets. Too many regrets,” she breathed, voice hitching.
“I thought perhaps I could seek forgiveness, like them.” She nodded back toward the house, where a group of young soldiers stood with their prince. “But I am not them. My sins are far too great. I am sorry.” She turned again, but the younger woman stopped her.
“What’s your name? In this life?”
“Branka,” she said as she turned around again.
“I’m Usagi.” The blonde nodded. The pair stood facing each other again, but Branka could not bring herself to look in Usagi’s eyes a second time.
“I should go,” Branka started to say, but Usagi spoke over her.
“It’s cold out. You should come inside for some hot cocoa.” She held out one small, mitten-covered hand. Branka looked at it for a moment, then brought herself to look up at Usagi’s face; she was smiling gently, her eyes soft. “Please?”
Branka nodded and withdrew one of her hands from her muffler, slipping it into Usagi’s, allowing the young woman to lead her home.
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