strike twenty-two: enemies
8 Jan 2008 10:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kaigouMeg took a step back, then another, but at the third her heel caught on the wall and she nearly fell. Xiong followed, advancing until he stood barely a finger’s breadth away; she couldn’t press herself further into the wall, wouldn’t shirk away more, anger at his smirk finally overcoming the raw fear.
“Hand it over, and she won’t be coming here,” he cajoled, a soft tone at odds with the way his eyes narrowed with pleasure.
Another step forward, enough to press himself along her body, but Meg hissed a warning and he moved no further. She did at least retain some command, little good it did her. Staying alive wasn’t worth much if every heartbeat was a misery.
“You can’t expect forgiveness,” Xiong added, tilting his head to send hot breath across her cheeks. “Certainly not forgetfulness.”
“Ten--” Meg had to forcibly pull her tongue from the roof of her dry mouth, find the strength to convulsively swallow, remember the words. They’d sounded good enough in her head, but felt remarkably like nothing as she shoved each syllable from between tight lips. “Ten years, Xiong, and if--”
“You’re so stupid. What did my sister see in you?” He made a tsking sound. “That’s a pittance. Maybe not to you, but...” His expression changed, the illusion of his humanity peeling back. It started with the eyes, human green iris elongating into a cat’s diamond, faint whiskers trailing in the air from his jaws, and terrifying horns curving away from his temples to shimmer above them. Meg could still recall, vaguely, the beauty and grandeur when Qiu Yu let slip her smile to reveal a wolf’s snout, a shark’s grin, deer’s ears, the amazing golden hue of her secret skin laid bare. Meg’s fingers itched with the memory of that touch, but she stilled herself, unwilling to let Xiong believe, even for a split second, that he could be the cause of any long-held ache, let alone any joy.
No, in him, the green cast of his youth tinged his visage with a brutal ugliness. Snout too sharp, teeth uneven, horns shaded gray and lacking even a minutest echo of Qiu’s grace.
“Get off me,” Meg ground out.
“Do you even realize? To you, that’s perhaps a third your life, yes?” Xiong didn’t move, though it felt as though he reached into her, pressing past her edges to shove himself into the parts she’d held private for so long. “Ten years is nothing to us.”
“It’s--”
“Literally, nothing,” he repeated, and his smirk grew. “If to you, last week’s events remain fresh, your decade is our last week. As far as my sister is concerned, your betrayal is a recent event. Fresh, hot, and worthy of your death.”
“I--” Meg closed her lips, wanting to look away, unable.
“Or, I could do it for her, gain her trust, regain the pearl.” He placed one long-clawed hand against Meg’s throat. “I think that’s an acceptable alternative.”
“Hand it over, and she won’t be coming here,” he cajoled, a soft tone at odds with the way his eyes narrowed with pleasure.
Another step forward, enough to press himself along her body, but Meg hissed a warning and he moved no further. She did at least retain some command, little good it did her. Staying alive wasn’t worth much if every heartbeat was a misery.
“You can’t expect forgiveness,” Xiong added, tilting his head to send hot breath across her cheeks. “Certainly not forgetfulness.”
“Ten--” Meg had to forcibly pull her tongue from the roof of her dry mouth, find the strength to convulsively swallow, remember the words. They’d sounded good enough in her head, but felt remarkably like nothing as she shoved each syllable from between tight lips. “Ten years, Xiong, and if--”
“You’re so stupid. What did my sister see in you?” He made a tsking sound. “That’s a pittance. Maybe not to you, but...” His expression changed, the illusion of his humanity peeling back. It started with the eyes, human green iris elongating into a cat’s diamond, faint whiskers trailing in the air from his jaws, and terrifying horns curving away from his temples to shimmer above them. Meg could still recall, vaguely, the beauty and grandeur when Qiu Yu let slip her smile to reveal a wolf’s snout, a shark’s grin, deer’s ears, the amazing golden hue of her secret skin laid bare. Meg’s fingers itched with the memory of that touch, but she stilled herself, unwilling to let Xiong believe, even for a split second, that he could be the cause of any long-held ache, let alone any joy.
No, in him, the green cast of his youth tinged his visage with a brutal ugliness. Snout too sharp, teeth uneven, horns shaded gray and lacking even a minutest echo of Qiu’s grace.
“Get off me,” Meg ground out.
“Do you even realize? To you, that’s perhaps a third your life, yes?” Xiong didn’t move, though it felt as though he reached into her, pressing past her edges to shove himself into the parts she’d held private for so long. “Ten years is nothing to us.”
“It’s--”
“Literally, nothing,” he repeated, and his smirk grew. “If to you, last week’s events remain fresh, your decade is our last week. As far as my sister is concerned, your betrayal is a recent event. Fresh, hot, and worthy of your death.”
“I--” Meg closed her lips, wanting to look away, unable.
“Or, I could do it for her, gain her trust, regain the pearl.” He placed one long-clawed hand against Meg’s throat. “I think that’s an acceptable alternative.”
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no subject
Date: 9 Jan 2008 05:07 am (UTC)Plus you have the best word choice/sentence structure ever: "Xiong didn’t move, though it felt as though he reached into her, pressing past her edges to shove himself into the parts she’d held private for so long."
(Actually, am I on your original fiction story filter? Because I think now I would really like to be.)
no subject
Date: 9 Jan 2008 05:24 am (UTC)filteredscreened (guh, typing while thinking is dangerous). Strange.(I upgraded to a new OS, so there are a few settings in the latest versions of shareware that have me confused... still getting the kinks straightened out.)