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I wrote these as part of the last but one ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
legendland battle and I'm finally getting around to posting them.
It ebbs and flows between them, this longing she can't give voice to. It's like time or tides, ever present, changing the way she sees the world.
She's always been clear about what is right, pure in focus, steadfast in purpose, but Richard slips past her defences, making himself at home in her heart before she can draw breath. Duty tells her that she must rip these feelings out before they can take root, but it's too late; they're too deep, threaded through her very bones.
The warmth of their love fills her; she prays it won't burn them both.
-o-
Richard kisses her when the world is safe, and she loses track of everything but the feel of his mouth on hers, his taste on her tongue, his body warm against hers. She sinks into him, still caught on the cusp between longing and caution.
Zedd and Cara fade away, only the odd clatter as someone prepares dinner. She should stop and help, but Richard's fingers run through her hair, and Kahlan leans into his caress instead.
The afternoon stretches out ahead of them, warm and golden; the evening promises her everything, but for now, Kahlan is content with this.
-o-
Westland is farmland and forests, gently rolling hills and steep mountain falls. Richard has explored every nook and every cranny of his beloved home, can name the trees and the birds that sing in them. He sets his face to the horizon and follows his quest, but nowhere else feels like home.
But then, for the first time, he sees the ocean.
The sea is never silent, never still. It roars against the shore, hungry waves crashing, wild, untamed and free; Richard's heart soars with the sound of it, salt spray on his lips and salt water in his veins.
-o-
Cara is used to the looks her Mord-Sith leathers get, the fear and suspicion, the longing and hate. She doesn't care one way or another for how people treat her when she wears them. She is Mord-Sith, and the Mord-Sith do not compromise.
Kahlan frets and fusses and it takes everything Cara has not to bite and snap. Kahlan can drag her to marketplace after marketplace and make as many noises as she likes about how the colour of this fabric or that matches Cara's eyes. It does no good.
Red leathers do not make a Mord-Sith, but what's inside.
-o-
Zedd snores and scratches and complains. He makes comments about her cooking and her attitude, but they're delivered with a smile; it's been a long time since Cara's thought of cutting out his tongue.
He steals the last bowl of stew and he always manages to con her into washing his clothes, but he saves her wild strawberries when he finds them, joking about the colour of them matching her leathers, and she's sure he gives her the largest share.
He amuses and irritates her in equal measure, but she's grown used to him; what else is friendship but that?
legendland battle and I'm finally getting around to posting them.It ebbs and flows between them, this longing she can't give voice to. It's like time or tides, ever present, changing the way she sees the world.
She's always been clear about what is right, pure in focus, steadfast in purpose, but Richard slips past her defences, making himself at home in her heart before she can draw breath. Duty tells her that she must rip these feelings out before they can take root, but it's too late; they're too deep, threaded through her very bones.
The warmth of their love fills her; she prays it won't burn them both.
-o-
Richard kisses her when the world is safe, and she loses track of everything but the feel of his mouth on hers, his taste on her tongue, his body warm against hers. She sinks into him, still caught on the cusp between longing and caution.
Zedd and Cara fade away, only the odd clatter as someone prepares dinner. She should stop and help, but Richard's fingers run through her hair, and Kahlan leans into his caress instead.
The afternoon stretches out ahead of them, warm and golden; the evening promises her everything, but for now, Kahlan is content with this.
-o-
Westland is farmland and forests, gently rolling hills and steep mountain falls. Richard has explored every nook and every cranny of his beloved home, can name the trees and the birds that sing in them. He sets his face to the horizon and follows his quest, but nowhere else feels like home.
But then, for the first time, he sees the ocean.
The sea is never silent, never still. It roars against the shore, hungry waves crashing, wild, untamed and free; Richard's heart soars with the sound of it, salt spray on his lips and salt water in his veins.
-o-
Cara is used to the looks her Mord-Sith leathers get, the fear and suspicion, the longing and hate. She doesn't care one way or another for how people treat her when she wears them. She is Mord-Sith, and the Mord-Sith do not compromise.
Kahlan frets and fusses and it takes everything Cara has not to bite and snap. Kahlan can drag her to marketplace after marketplace and make as many noises as she likes about how the colour of this fabric or that matches Cara's eyes. It does no good.
Red leathers do not make a Mord-Sith, but what's inside.
-o-
Zedd snores and scratches and complains. He makes comments about her cooking and her attitude, but they're delivered with a smile; it's been a long time since Cara's thought of cutting out his tongue.
He steals the last bowl of stew and he always manages to con her into washing his clothes, but he saves her wild strawberries when he finds them, joking about the colour of them matching her leathers, and she's sure he gives her the largest share.
He amuses and irritates her in equal measure, but she's grown used to him; what else is friendship but that?