i will not love you long time. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ex_troublesteady667) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
yuri_challenge2011-03-31 09:58 pm
ex_troublesteady667) wrote in yuri_challenge2011-03-31 09:58 pm
Entry tags:
'By foot, it's a slow climb', Sora no woto, Kazumiya Rio/Filicia Heideman
Title: By foot, it's a slow climb
Creator:troublesteady
Rating: Adult
Warning: Depiction of PTSD, war/military setting.
Prompt: Any fandom, any pairing, You make me think that maybe I won't die alone
~
Nightmares are always different, from reality and other dreams alike. There is always something, whether a small detail or a larger part of whatever propels the dream onward, that sets your teeth on edge. Something off. Something not quite right, in a vaguely sickening way.
Filicia knows she's dreaming, because ever since Vingt she can only dream in shades of grey. And she knows she is having a nightmare, because they're the only kind of dreams she has. But she also knows because when she's awake, she is haunted by the soldier whose name tag she could never properly read (and her mind had eventually warped it to look like maybe it was Dupont; but she knows that isn't it), with his creaking jaw and accusing hollow eyes. But when she's dreaming, it's always and only commander Miyaoka.
And now Filicia is back on the battlefield, but what is not quite right is that she has to fight for her life. In the waking world, she ran and hid from direct combat; here, there is nowhere to hide and every pair of eyes seems to be trained on her. Sweat runs down her back, warm and slow like blood.
"Found you," a voice says behind her, like rattling a cage filled with bones.
Filicia spins around too fast; her hair gets in her eyes (but it was short just a minute ago) and she slips on something that feels like fingers. She doesn't fall, but the world adjusts itself as if she had. Like it wasn't expecting her to keep her balance. The line of the horizon shifts, and there is a lot less sky than a moment ago.
"No," Filicia pleads the approaching soldier.
Yukiko's movements are jerky, and both her arms are broken; Filicia sees a flash of white on the elbow of her uniform, and realises it must be bone, the uniform torn around it. The commander's face is beautiful as always, but when she smiles, a worm slithers down her chin and under her collar.
"No," Filicia says again, but it's barely a rasp.
Yukiko's smile grows wider, spreading across her face like a gash too wide to be just her mouth. "We've looked across the field for you, and here you finally are." She inches forward still, bloodshot eyes wide and fixed on Filicia with an empty, unfocussed intensity of blindness. Another worm crawls out of Yukiko's mouth, then quickly makes its way to her ear — or the rotting, open wound where her ear had been.
"Where're your legs that used to run?" Yukiko says, holding out her broken arms, palms hanging at different angles. "You've lost a bit of shine."
Filicia realises she can't feel her legs, as if her body ended around her hips, but wills herself not to look down. Tears are rolling down her cheeks. And then the world shifts again; Filicia falls forward and suddenly Yukiko is on her, pinning her body to the ground. Something moves beneath Filicia's back, as if trying to get away.
"Let's you and me, let's play a game," Yukiko sing-songs brokenly through her laughing, bloody lips. "So which is you, and which is me?"
There's a hollow crack, and pain shoots up Filicia's chest. A rib. It's pure adrenaline: before she knows what she's doing, her hands are around Yukiko's throat and she pushes, screaming, "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"
And then the world shifts again. She's on top of Yukiko know, straddling her chest and pressing her palms against her trachea. She smells sweat, and everything has gone dark and quiet. And then, as cold air hits her exposed arms and the covers slide farther down her hips, she's no longer staring into Yukiko's dead, mad eyes.
It's Rio.
As if electrocuted, Filicia jumps away, hitting her back against the wall. She presses her palms against it, hyperaware senses feeling the uneven, dry surface. It's cold; she's shaking.
Slowly, Rio moves to a sitting position. She searches Filicia's face, eyes glinting sharply even in the dark. Filicia tries to take a steadying breath, but her body has other ideas: she gulps in air like a drowning man, and through it she can't utter a word. A tremor runs through her, and she realises she must have been crying.
Before she can say or do anything, though, she sees Rio reach out with her hands, palms-up, like you would to a spooked animal. With careful slowness, never taking her eyes off Filicia's, Rio wraps her arms around her; her hands come to rest on her back, and she inches closer so that their bodies are pressed together. Their cheeks touch. She stays there for a long while, as Filicia tries to regain control over her breathing. It's easier when she can smell Rio's hair; she's being held like a child, and finally, centimetre by centimetre her body calms down.
Filicia knows, deep in her bones, that it's not the gesture that grounds her; it's Rio. It must be Rio: no one could do this but her. It was Rio who saw the mess Filicia had been when she was first assigned to the 1121st, barely out of the hospital, needing to be sedated just to fall asleep. She had seen Filicia fall apart more than once, cursing and shouting at a room empty bar ghosts.
In turn, with the slowness and inevitability of a tidal wave, Filicia began to feel again. She had thought she'd become numb: Vingt made her empty on the inside. But somehow, she was reminded of the storm of emotions tearing through her fifteenyearold rookie self, turning bright red whenever Yukiko so much as looked at her; of the fear and confusion of realising that she was bent that way. She'd felt what she'd given up on ever feeling again: life.
She might dream only in black and white, but the waking world became bearable, if only for Rio's hand at the small of her back.
The less tense Filicia becomes, the more every muscle in her body screams exhaustion, spent adrenaline and fightorflight cut short. She starts to doze off, and only forces her head back up from Rio's shoulder when she hears her whisper: "It's okay."
Filicia starts to say, "I —" but is cut short by the sound of her own voice.
"It's okay," Rio repeats more firmly. Her grip tightens.
"I'm so—."
"Just bloody shut up and take the hug, will you?" Rio snaps, but her tone betrays her: it's warm and worried. But maybe this is what Filicia needs, because the knot in the pit of her stomach slowly untangles. The sweat on her naked arms cools down, but she doesn't mind the cold any more. She isn't shaking as much.
Before she knew, Rio gave her exactly what she needed, and Filicia only realises it know. Really, Rio knows her too well. It has saved her life more than once.
"I am," she says, low. In the dark, she only feels Rio's hair moved by her breath. "Sorry."
Again, Rio brushes her off, but doesn't let go. "I know. I mean, unless you're into that kind of stuff," she adds in a louder voice. To take the edge off her words, she moves slightly so that she's more cradling than embracing Filicia. "In which case we'll have to have words, because I could think of better ways to tell me you are."
"I'm sorry," Filicia repeats; it's like a mantra. She curls her legs under her, letting Rio take her weigh. It's selfish, but if Rio allows her to be selfish, than it must be fine.
"I know." Rio coughs, then continues gruffly, "Anyway, if you have new things you want to try out, just holler. I'm open to new things. New things can be … new. An the like."
Filicia doesn't need the dark to be kept at bay with words, but she doesn't say so. "I'm sorry."
She feels Rio's hand brush her hair away from her face, and remain there. What she says, though, is: "If you say that one more time, I'm gonna have to kick you out of bet."
Filicia forces some colour into her voice. It's as close an approximation of breezy as she can get. "That's okay. I don't mind sleeping on the floor as long as Rio is in the same room."
That makes Rio let go of her, at least so far that she can take hold of her arms and peer into Filicia's face, very nearly cross-eyed.
Sighing, Filicia shakes her her slightly. She reaches for Rio and she's held again, just like that; she wraps her arms around Rio's waist, rubbing her fingers against the worn cotton of her pants. "No, I'm not into that kind of stuff," she says. The room is growing lighter now, in the mute grey of a pre-dawn.
"Oh." Rio smiles; Filicia knows it, because it's pressed into her hair. "Okay." Nudging Filicia with her knees, Rio tips them over and they lie back down on the bed, tangled together and finally, finally starting to get warm. After a moment, Rio coughs again. "You're still…" She falls silent, but just as Filicia starts to think she must have fallen asleep, Rio goes tense. "Is this a cuddle?"
Even through their pyjamas, Filicia can feel Rio get warmer. Her blush must be magnificent, but Filicia doesn't have the strength to even raise her head. Instead, she presses a dry kiss into the hollow of Rio's throat, and lets herself doze. Eventually, Rio starts to relax.
"…Just go to sleep," she mutters sullenly and, judging by her slowing breath, follows her own advice.
If only it were that easy, Filicia thinks. But lying in silence and watching shadows shrink with the early morning light would just make her think, and she knows thinking is the last thing she wants to do. So she closes her eyes; Yukiko's bloody smile waits for her, imprinted on the inside of her eyelids. Filicia suppresses a shudder. But she can also feel Rio's warmth, by touch recognise the cartography of her body. Maybe Rio really can keep the dark at bay: not with her words, but herself. Slowing her breath to match Rio's, Filicia offers a short prayer.
She doesn't hope for her dreams to be colourful, not any more; she prays, silently, not to dream at all.
Creator:
troublesteadyRating: Adult
Warning: Depiction of PTSD, war/military setting.
Prompt: Any fandom, any pairing, You make me think that maybe I won't die alone
~
Nightmares are always different, from reality and other dreams alike. There is always something, whether a small detail or a larger part of whatever propels the dream onward, that sets your teeth on edge. Something off. Something not quite right, in a vaguely sickening way.
Filicia knows she's dreaming, because ever since Vingt she can only dream in shades of grey. And she knows she is having a nightmare, because they're the only kind of dreams she has. But she also knows because when she's awake, she is haunted by the soldier whose name tag she could never properly read (and her mind had eventually warped it to look like maybe it was Dupont; but she knows that isn't it), with his creaking jaw and accusing hollow eyes. But when she's dreaming, it's always and only commander Miyaoka.
And now Filicia is back on the battlefield, but what is not quite right is that she has to fight for her life. In the waking world, she ran and hid from direct combat; here, there is nowhere to hide and every pair of eyes seems to be trained on her. Sweat runs down her back, warm and slow like blood.
"Found you," a voice says behind her, like rattling a cage filled with bones.
Filicia spins around too fast; her hair gets in her eyes (but it was short just a minute ago) and she slips on something that feels like fingers. She doesn't fall, but the world adjusts itself as if she had. Like it wasn't expecting her to keep her balance. The line of the horizon shifts, and there is a lot less sky than a moment ago.
"No," Filicia pleads the approaching soldier.
Yukiko's movements are jerky, and both her arms are broken; Filicia sees a flash of white on the elbow of her uniform, and realises it must be bone, the uniform torn around it. The commander's face is beautiful as always, but when she smiles, a worm slithers down her chin and under her collar.
"No," Filicia says again, but it's barely a rasp.
Yukiko's smile grows wider, spreading across her face like a gash too wide to be just her mouth. "We've looked across the field for you, and here you finally are." She inches forward still, bloodshot eyes wide and fixed on Filicia with an empty, unfocussed intensity of blindness. Another worm crawls out of Yukiko's mouth, then quickly makes its way to her ear — or the rotting, open wound where her ear had been.
"Where're your legs that used to run?" Yukiko says, holding out her broken arms, palms hanging at different angles. "You've lost a bit of shine."
Filicia realises she can't feel her legs, as if her body ended around her hips, but wills herself not to look down. Tears are rolling down her cheeks. And then the world shifts again; Filicia falls forward and suddenly Yukiko is on her, pinning her body to the ground. Something moves beneath Filicia's back, as if trying to get away.
"Let's you and me, let's play a game," Yukiko sing-songs brokenly through her laughing, bloody lips. "So which is you, and which is me?"
There's a hollow crack, and pain shoots up Filicia's chest. A rib. It's pure adrenaline: before she knows what she's doing, her hands are around Yukiko's throat and she pushes, screaming, "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"
And then the world shifts again. She's on top of Yukiko know, straddling her chest and pressing her palms against her trachea. She smells sweat, and everything has gone dark and quiet. And then, as cold air hits her exposed arms and the covers slide farther down her hips, she's no longer staring into Yukiko's dead, mad eyes.
It's Rio.
As if electrocuted, Filicia jumps away, hitting her back against the wall. She presses her palms against it, hyperaware senses feeling the uneven, dry surface. It's cold; she's shaking.
Slowly, Rio moves to a sitting position. She searches Filicia's face, eyes glinting sharply even in the dark. Filicia tries to take a steadying breath, but her body has other ideas: she gulps in air like a drowning man, and through it she can't utter a word. A tremor runs through her, and she realises she must have been crying.
Before she can say or do anything, though, she sees Rio reach out with her hands, palms-up, like you would to a spooked animal. With careful slowness, never taking her eyes off Filicia's, Rio wraps her arms around her; her hands come to rest on her back, and she inches closer so that their bodies are pressed together. Their cheeks touch. She stays there for a long while, as Filicia tries to regain control over her breathing. It's easier when she can smell Rio's hair; she's being held like a child, and finally, centimetre by centimetre her body calms down.
Filicia knows, deep in her bones, that it's not the gesture that grounds her; it's Rio. It must be Rio: no one could do this but her. It was Rio who saw the mess Filicia had been when she was first assigned to the 1121st, barely out of the hospital, needing to be sedated just to fall asleep. She had seen Filicia fall apart more than once, cursing and shouting at a room empty bar ghosts.
In turn, with the slowness and inevitability of a tidal wave, Filicia began to feel again. She had thought she'd become numb: Vingt made her empty on the inside. But somehow, she was reminded of the storm of emotions tearing through her fifteenyearold rookie self, turning bright red whenever Yukiko so much as looked at her; of the fear and confusion of realising that she was bent that way. She'd felt what she'd given up on ever feeling again: life.
She might dream only in black and white, but the waking world became bearable, if only for Rio's hand at the small of her back.
The less tense Filicia becomes, the more every muscle in her body screams exhaustion, spent adrenaline and fightorflight cut short. She starts to doze off, and only forces her head back up from Rio's shoulder when she hears her whisper: "It's okay."
Filicia starts to say, "I —" but is cut short by the sound of her own voice.
"It's okay," Rio repeats more firmly. Her grip tightens.
"I'm so—."
"Just bloody shut up and take the hug, will you?" Rio snaps, but her tone betrays her: it's warm and worried. But maybe this is what Filicia needs, because the knot in the pit of her stomach slowly untangles. The sweat on her naked arms cools down, but she doesn't mind the cold any more. She isn't shaking as much.
Before she knew, Rio gave her exactly what she needed, and Filicia only realises it know. Really, Rio knows her too well. It has saved her life more than once.
"I am," she says, low. In the dark, she only feels Rio's hair moved by her breath. "Sorry."
Again, Rio brushes her off, but doesn't let go. "I know. I mean, unless you're into that kind of stuff," she adds in a louder voice. To take the edge off her words, she moves slightly so that she's more cradling than embracing Filicia. "In which case we'll have to have words, because I could think of better ways to tell me you are."
"I'm sorry," Filicia repeats; it's like a mantra. She curls her legs under her, letting Rio take her weigh. It's selfish, but if Rio allows her to be selfish, than it must be fine.
"I know." Rio coughs, then continues gruffly, "Anyway, if you have new things you want to try out, just holler. I'm open to new things. New things can be … new. An the like."
Filicia doesn't need the dark to be kept at bay with words, but she doesn't say so. "I'm sorry."
She feels Rio's hand brush her hair away from her face, and remain there. What she says, though, is: "If you say that one more time, I'm gonna have to kick you out of bet."
Filicia forces some colour into her voice. It's as close an approximation of breezy as she can get. "That's okay. I don't mind sleeping on the floor as long as Rio is in the same room."
That makes Rio let go of her, at least so far that she can take hold of her arms and peer into Filicia's face, very nearly cross-eyed.
Sighing, Filicia shakes her her slightly. She reaches for Rio and she's held again, just like that; she wraps her arms around Rio's waist, rubbing her fingers against the worn cotton of her pants. "No, I'm not into that kind of stuff," she says. The room is growing lighter now, in the mute grey of a pre-dawn.
"Oh." Rio smiles; Filicia knows it, because it's pressed into her hair. "Okay." Nudging Filicia with her knees, Rio tips them over and they lie back down on the bed, tangled together and finally, finally starting to get warm. After a moment, Rio coughs again. "You're still…" She falls silent, but just as Filicia starts to think she must have fallen asleep, Rio goes tense. "Is this a cuddle?"
Even through their pyjamas, Filicia can feel Rio get warmer. Her blush must be magnificent, but Filicia doesn't have the strength to even raise her head. Instead, she presses a dry kiss into the hollow of Rio's throat, and lets herself doze. Eventually, Rio starts to relax.
"…Just go to sleep," she mutters sullenly and, judging by her slowing breath, follows her own advice.
If only it were that easy, Filicia thinks. But lying in silence and watching shadows shrink with the early morning light would just make her think, and she knows thinking is the last thing she wants to do. So she closes her eyes; Yukiko's bloody smile waits for her, imprinted on the inside of her eyelids. Filicia suppresses a shudder. But she can also feel Rio's warmth, by touch recognise the cartography of her body. Maybe Rio really can keep the dark at bay: not with her words, but herself. Slowing her breath to match Rio's, Filicia offers a short prayer.
She doesn't hope for her dreams to be colourful, not any more; she prays, silently, not to dream at all.