actionreaction: art by <lj user=yabamena> ([characters] sadiq & tahir)
And here it is, the last one! Go me, I'm so glad I managed to finish them even when I was so far behind!

No one sees the tender moments between them. No one sees when, with nimble fingers, Tahir braids Sadiq's hair, the long length of red down the left side of his face clearly marking his royalty. No one sees how those fingers thread through the rest of his hair before and after, as Sadiq's lids slip to half-mast.

No one sees when Sadiq returns the favor, gently tugging at Tahir's hair as he weaves his fingers through it before he duplicates the same braid he wears in his own. They don't see the princes reclining in the fading light, after the sun's gone down and the fiery explosion of colors and light of sunset have given way to the bruise-purple hue of night in the desert. They don't see Tahir's fingers play on Sadiq's skin or Sadiq's quick fierce smile full of sharp teeth when those fingers stray.

Most of all, no one sees how the princes of Maradesh, the Sadist and the Terror, exchange lingering looks, ones full of secrets, hidden messages, and all the love no one expects either to be capable of.

No one sees the tender moments between them, and they prefer it that way.

You have no idea how happy I am to finish with these two. They have always been among my absolute favorites and sometimes I miss them so much it hurts. I really need to figure out what I'm doing with them and start up their campaign again.


Dec. 6th, 2012 10:28 am
actionreaction: text: we do not write because we want to. we write because we have to. [Somerset Maugham] ([quote] we write because)
Still writing for [ profile] bb_shousetsu so this is a random snippet of something else I'm posting just to keep up my streak.

Her voice was the lightest whisper, her touch hardly tangible. Her laughter, light and breathy, was indistinguishable from the wind. So it was he heard and felt the playful sirocco around his face and knew she was near. So close, he almost had her. He inhaled, closed his eyes, slipped out from his place and- she was gone.

He stared where he'd thought she'd be, arrow nocked, dark eyes intent. Days had passed. Weeks. The days were immaterial, the nights as well. All that mattered was the fact that he hadn't done the job. He hadn't caught her. He frowned and pointed his bow downward, gently releasing the tension. She intrigued him. Her senses were heightened. Somehow, she knew he'd been following. Even more surprisingly, she'd given him the slip. No one hid their trails from him once he'd started tracking them.

Except her.

Yeah I dunno.
actionreaction: photo of two different styles of keyboards. text: choose your weapon ([writing] choose your weapon)
My mind goes to any of three characters (all [personal profile] lovebloodrhetoric's) when I think shadows and it was difficult to choose between them. But this one is the one I tend to associate with the shadows most.

They called them the Sons of Shadow. Led by the heir presumptive, the Sons of Shadow were forces to be reckoned with - if you could see them. They disappeared into shadows, into the night, umbral warriors who walked or leaped from shadow to shadow to stalk their targets. None were as skilled as the brother of the king. The Sons of Shadow had their counterparts in the Heirs to the Flame, mages who wielded fire as though they were red dragons themselves. As well they should for they were led by the king himself, who was as red-haired as the very dragons from which he was descended.

The Sons of Shadow were training today, all day. From the earliest dawn, when the rising sun cast long shadows behind each warrior, to the height of the day when the noontime sun meant the warriors would have to use their other skills, for there were no shadows substantive enough for any but Prince Tahir to use. They fought until sunset, when the prince left his second-in-command in charge and sought out the king. Since they were children, they spent every sunset they could together. Some things never changed, thought Tahir as he found his brother waiting for him, bathed in the deep reddish glow of the sun, his shadow stretching back so far it was like an invitation, one Tahir couldn't refuse.

He slipped into his brother's shadow, and traveled its length. He stepped out, right next to his brother's side, and like he used to do when he was still too young to speak, he reached up and tugged on the long red braid that hung down the left side of King Sadiq's face, longer than the rest of his hair, and a sign of his nobility. Tahir's was about as long, but night-dark where his brother's was blood-red.

Sadiq turned ice-blue eyes onto his taller, younger brother, his too-pretty mouth curving in the kind of smile that made sensible people nervous, and sent shivers of another kind down Tahir's spine. Together, they watched the sun loan its power to the night, only to take it back the next morning. Tahir didn't speak a word, and Sadiq said plenty as night fell and they retreated from the balcony. They'd come so far from the spoiled and dangerous princes they'd been, but the bond between them had never been stronger.

Man I miss playing them. And this is still not the prompt I keep meaning to write. I just know that one will wind up with a lot of feels and I'm not ready to write it yet.

Now for lunch.
actionreaction: text: not so much writing as making a mess with a pen (Default)
I had been doing this table over on LJ, but I don't write my stories there anymore, so I'm reposting these here. I'm posting the table normally and have dated all the actual fics out of order so they didn't spam your friends' lists.

I'm writing about D&D characters Shar and Connor from numbers 1-50. Shar is [personal profile] lovebloodrhetoric's and Connor is mine. And from 51-100, even-numbered fics are about D&D characters Locien [again, [personal profile] lovebloodrhetoric's] and Lucas [mine]. They're mostly PG-13 and below, and thus public. Any R rated are f-locked.

Cut for table )

Like I don't have enough to write already. -_-;;


actionreaction: text: not so much writing as making a mess with a pen (Default)

December 2016




RSS Atom

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags