[Akira has been her own storm front. She is a commander of weather. There's been no lightning strike sent outward--well, she was, you know, stern with a taxi driver, but she hasn't voiced any aggravated regret over coming in the first place. Her bad weather was just the type to leave her stewing in her own humidity, which has made her hair feel disastrous and her clothes feel sticky. When she and Hikaru finally stumbled into their room at the inn, neither of them knew where or how to get their bearings, and Hikaru asked if Akira wanted to just kick back for a while. Akira huffed, and she dropped her bags and shed all her clothes where she stood, down to her underthings. She put herself to bed with all the forceful focus of a woman claiming a prestigious title--yeah, her jaw looks like this when she's determined to win--and then...
Hikaru was beautiful enough to turn on the ceiling fan. Hikaru was beautiful enough to take Akira's head from where it had initially landed--didn't quite catch the pillow, but fell right asleep--and settle her onto something softer. Akira is aware of these things maybe before she's otherwise awake. Hikaru has pushed at her shoulder a few times, now, but that's not what Akira feels first. She can feel the occasional soft stirring of her hair, in the current from the ceiling fan...
Hikaru is the first thing Akira sees, when Akira finally decides to wake up. It does feel like a conscious decision. She could have suspended herself there, if she'd chosen, only aware enough of anything to be comfortable and content. Just the ceiling fan, just the weight of Hikaru's hand. She wouldn't need more than that. But she opens her eyes, and then she flutters them instead, when her eyelashes cling together during that first sleepy blink. She's quiet--not subdued, but submerged. It's the quiet dignity of the Sphinx buried in sand. She'll be very regal once she's out. She catches Hikaru's wrist, then, not in a cobra strike, but like the cool growth of ivy. Then she does speak:]
Bite me.
[And it's with the bottom of her mouth pressed into the tiniest pout, but she isn't being mean. It's almost affectionate--yeah, actually, with the tilt of her head into the pillow, and the softness of her dark eyebrows, she must want to be bitten. She shuts her eyes again, nestling further into that pillow, but it doesn't hide her mouth. Now she's got this little smile. She must think she's funny, or maybe she's self-satisfied. Her thumb is still gently along the heel of Hikaru's palm.]
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Hikaru was beautiful enough to turn on the ceiling fan. Hikaru was beautiful enough to take Akira's head from where it had initially landed--didn't quite catch the pillow, but fell right asleep--and settle her onto something softer. Akira is aware of these things maybe before she's otherwise awake. Hikaru has pushed at her shoulder a few times, now, but that's not what Akira feels first. She can feel the occasional soft stirring of her hair, in the current from the ceiling fan...
Hikaru is the first thing Akira sees, when Akira finally decides to wake up. It does feel like a conscious decision. She could have suspended herself there, if she'd chosen, only aware enough of anything to be comfortable and content. Just the ceiling fan, just the weight of Hikaru's hand. She wouldn't need more than that. But she opens her eyes, and then she flutters them instead, when her eyelashes cling together during that first sleepy blink. She's quiet--not subdued, but submerged. It's the quiet dignity of the Sphinx buried in sand. She'll be very regal once she's out. She catches Hikaru's wrist, then, not in a cobra strike, but like the cool growth of ivy. Then she does speak:]
Bite me.
[And it's with the bottom of her mouth pressed into the tiniest pout, but she isn't being mean. It's almost affectionate--yeah, actually, with the tilt of her head into the pillow, and the softness of her dark eyebrows, she must want to be bitten. She shuts her eyes again, nestling further into that pillow, but it doesn't hide her mouth. Now she's got this little smile. She must think she's funny, or maybe she's self-satisfied. Her thumb is still gently along the heel of Hikaru's palm.]