writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia

yabamena

It wasn't often that Lunatox members got any time off. They were still a rookie group after all and that meant every minute of their day was scheduled for something, whether it be practice, performance, variety show or sleep. So when their manager told them, only two days after Christmas, that the were given the day off to spend at a shopping mall, and were give an allowance, KC could only stare in pleased surprise.

( O Christmas Tree )

yabamena

Christmas was one of the things Corvus struggled to remember. It came to him in scents: pine, peppermint, apple-cinnamon, burning logs, sugar cookies, and roasted chestnuts. It was flashes of memory: torn paper, laughter, screams of delight, falling snow -- though sometimes he remembered rain and warmer skies instead -- and faces he could never quite focus on. Christmas was feelings he clung to: warmth, love, cheer -- things he hadn't had in too many years to count.

( Christmas memories )

yabamena

Years of not having someone he cared for, of never being in an actual relationship, of never even considering love a possibility meant Aksel still wasn't used to giving gifts. He still had difficulty expressing the intense positive emotions he felt about Han and he found it even harder to put those feelings into words.
( Not unlike a fairy tale )

"Again."

Cal's eyes stung as sweat poured into them, but he didn't so much as raise a hand to wipe his brow. He could feel Sir Taren Veretti's eyes on him and he refused to look weak. So he blinked the sweat away as rapidly as he could, took his stance, and lunged again.

Once again his thrust was easily parried, but this time Taren slapped the blade further to the right, slid into close range, and smacked the flat of the blade against his stomach. "Hit. Were I an enemy, Cal Caison, you would be dead."

Cal gave in and shoved both his hair and a river of sweat from his eyes, but he didn't dare use stinging eyes and perspiration as an excuse. He'd seen Sir Taren fight with injuries that would have crippled a squire, and probably even a handful of Queen Selvia's other veteran knights. If he wanted to be half as good at Sir Taren, he had to be able to fight through discomfort.

Jun started exploring the small apartment, pausing every few feet whenever he noticed something that gave him a little insight into Klaus. He wasn't overly messy; the strewing about of clothes were a little haphazard, like he cleaned up maybe once every week or two and hadn't had a chance yet this week. His fridge was full of sodas, beer, milk, and some questionable cold cuts. The cabinets were full of cereal, ramen, and other instant foods. Clearly Klaus was no cook.

bb_shousetsu

Klaus narrowed his eyes, watching the guy warily. "You followed me."

A snort. "Like I had to. I could have waited here for you to show up. I mean, if you're stupid enough to hide at your own apartment..."

Klaus stood up, the movement, slow as though he thought sudden movements might make this guy do whatever the hell it was he was here to do. It was a shame this was how they met: in any other circumstance, Klaus would have found him attractive.

"Let me in," Naj whispered, running pale hands up Tessani's chest to curve over his shoulders and hook behind his neck. He shifted, hips canting upward, one leg moving to curl around Tessani's.

Tessani grunted, the sound low and short. "Move like that again and I'll be the one asking you that."

Naj grinned, and deliberately rolled his hips again.

Tessani didn't remember falling asleep. He barely remembered trudging back to the inn and going to his room. He did recall, however, talking to Jindra on the way back. After they were both able to stand, she showed him the mark on her hand. It was as he'd glimpsed, and it looked like it had been burned into her flesh from the outside.

"It felt like it too," she confessed, her voice low. "Like the very sun itself was burning my skin, making this mark. She said my tyro will have one that matched, like the other half of a full symbol." She smiled a bit then and Tessani watched her expression changed. "I'm not sure explain how different it feels now. It just feels like I'm being pulled somewhere, and wherever that is, my tyro is. I just know I have to go there. Soon."

Tessani's brow furrowed. "I don't understand."

"You will, Shadowbinder," Zara called from up ahead and Tessani started, surprised she could hear them. "After your ritual, you too will understand."

Bel was the first one awake. It didn't surprise her to see Tessani's tent quiet and still, somehow shrouded in shadows despite the fact that he still slept. Outside the slowly brightening sky cast enough light for her to get dressed, buckling armor on piece by battle-worn piece. Very little of it was still shiny and new; she'd trained again and again in it, breaking it in until the wounded skin and soft places it rubbed were replaced by tougher, calloused skin. The straps and bands were still somewhat uncomfortable by the day's end, and yet, she felt naked without it.