Drabble post
Dec. 21st, 2006 09:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rahmiFandom: Kingdom Hearts
Characters: Kairi, Riku, Sora
Pairings: OT3
Drabble 37: Grace
Riku had a scar on the palm of his right hand; it covered almost the entire surface and stretched thin tendrils over the knuckles of the back of his hand. He never mentioned how he got it, but he wasn't shy about trying to hide it: she'd caught it out of the corner of her eye so many times that she didn't even need to see it to know what it looked like.
It was... it wasn't ugly. It had healed about as fast as either of her boys ever healed, leaving behind only the hint of paler skin and a patch of tighter skin inbetween his knuckles, where the wound must have been the worst. It was just there. She'd asked a couple of times where he'd gotten it, if he'd given as good as he'd recieved that day, but he'd always just smile and she'd drop it because that smile hurt her.
She didn't like the way he would look at his hand, lost in thought, expressions so proud and happy that it made her ache to think that he'd ever be that way over something that looked like it had flayed the skin from his palm.
"I did something right," his heart whispered to her in those moments, content and amazed and purring with pleasure, "I did something right."
It always did something to her own heart, sent it qualing and shivering in her chest, and so she'd learned to not ask about it.
Besides, she didn't like the way Sora's heart would flinch back everytime she lightly questioned how he'd gotten it; where Riku would glow with pride, Sora would go dim, guilt licking up his heart and festering into darkness somewhere she couldn't see, couldn't touch.
"My fault," it murmered thinly, "My fault, my fault, sorry, sorry, so sorry."
Riku was not nearly as sensitive to hearts as he was to darkness. That glow would mute to match Sora's own, the quiet hush of his heart listening and feeling for where the dark was coming from. And then she'd have to deal with both of them, Sora guilty and absolutely sure that he'd messed up and Riku had paid the price for it, and Riku, anxious, feral, as he searched for the darkness intruding into their light.
It was easier not to ask.
So she didn't. Instead, she drew her own fingers along white lines to let Riku know that she understood his fierce pride in them, and let Sora feel the way Riku's twilight heart rose to full sunrise for a few precious seconds.
She'd get the story out of them sooner or later, the same way she'd finally pulled the story behind Sora's pendant from him. Until then, she didn't have a problem tracing scars and making up stupid, heroric tales for her stupid, heroric boys.
Characters: Kairi, Riku, Sora
Pairings: OT3
Drabble 37: Grace
Riku had a scar on the palm of his right hand; it covered almost the entire surface and stretched thin tendrils over the knuckles of the back of his hand. He never mentioned how he got it, but he wasn't shy about trying to hide it: she'd caught it out of the corner of her eye so many times that she didn't even need to see it to know what it looked like.
It was... it wasn't ugly. It had healed about as fast as either of her boys ever healed, leaving behind only the hint of paler skin and a patch of tighter skin inbetween his knuckles, where the wound must have been the worst. It was just there. She'd asked a couple of times where he'd gotten it, if he'd given as good as he'd recieved that day, but he'd always just smile and she'd drop it because that smile hurt her.
She didn't like the way he would look at his hand, lost in thought, expressions so proud and happy that it made her ache to think that he'd ever be that way over something that looked like it had flayed the skin from his palm.
"I did something right," his heart whispered to her in those moments, content and amazed and purring with pleasure, "I did something right."
It always did something to her own heart, sent it qualing and shivering in her chest, and so she'd learned to not ask about it.
Besides, she didn't like the way Sora's heart would flinch back everytime she lightly questioned how he'd gotten it; where Riku would glow with pride, Sora would go dim, guilt licking up his heart and festering into darkness somewhere she couldn't see, couldn't touch.
"My fault," it murmered thinly, "My fault, my fault, sorry, sorry, so sorry."
Riku was not nearly as sensitive to hearts as he was to darkness. That glow would mute to match Sora's own, the quiet hush of his heart listening and feeling for where the dark was coming from. And then she'd have to deal with both of them, Sora guilty and absolutely sure that he'd messed up and Riku had paid the price for it, and Riku, anxious, feral, as he searched for the darkness intruding into their light.
It was easier not to ask.
So she didn't. Instead, she drew her own fingers along white lines to let Riku know that she understood his fierce pride in them, and let Sora feel the way Riku's twilight heart rose to full sunrise for a few precious seconds.
She'd get the story out of them sooner or later, the same way she'd finally pulled the story behind Sora's pendant from him. Until then, she didn't have a problem tracing scars and making up stupid, heroric tales for her stupid, heroric boys.
