Contrast(Rukia/Byakuya~2)
Title: Contrast.
Author: Evergrnterrace
Characters/Pairing: Kuchiki Rukia/Kuchiki Byakuya
Rating/Warnings: G~ A/U, drabble. Spoiler for Rukia's zanpakuto.
Theme: 2~Black and White for bleach_15
Word Count:285
He waits for her after work. He watches silently, suppressing his reiatsu as she trains. He can barely contain a small grin at her progress. She’s flowing, elbow over palm, palm over elbow, white ribbon slicing through the air in graceful strokes. If you could see past the beauty you would fear for your life, but it’s tranquilizing; somewhat calming to watch the ebb and flow of the snowflakes in the slight breeze, the seemingly gentle dance of the zanpakuto as she arches her back, follows through with her body and releases a flurry of dazzling crystals.
He tries to burn this image into his memory. The way her entire face is peaceful, her eyes reflect somewhat deeper, traces of a life long since past. He tries to understand, to put into some form of logic, how they could possibly work so well together, embodiment of winter and reflection of spring. Forever destined to follow in each other’s wake, barely close enough to touch.
He does not fancy himself a poet, but this whole scene splayed before him seems to only allow beautiful thoughts to pull through. He almost thinks that Yumichika should be here to witness something undeniably more beautiful than anything he’s ever known.
He’s somewhat saddened to watch her finish up, still radiant and serene, but a bit more closed off; not a small amount of exhaustion playing on her features. He doesn’t offer her a steady hand when she finds her way to him, doesn’t offer any insight into his previous thoughts. But he is there, had been there, and there’s a small smile playing on his lips that tells of things not yet said. And it is enough.
For now.
Author: Evergrnterrace
Characters/Pairing: Kuchiki Rukia/Kuchiki Byakuya
Rating/Warnings: G~ A/U, drabble. Spoiler for Rukia's zanpakuto.
Theme: 2~Black and White for bleach_15
Word Count:285
He waits for her after work. He watches silently, suppressing his reiatsu as she trains. He can barely contain a small grin at her progress. She’s flowing, elbow over palm, palm over elbow, white ribbon slicing through the air in graceful strokes. If you could see past the beauty you would fear for your life, but it’s tranquilizing; somewhat calming to watch the ebb and flow of the snowflakes in the slight breeze, the seemingly gentle dance of the zanpakuto as she arches her back, follows through with her body and releases a flurry of dazzling crystals.
He tries to burn this image into his memory. The way her entire face is peaceful, her eyes reflect somewhat deeper, traces of a life long since past. He tries to understand, to put into some form of logic, how they could possibly work so well together, embodiment of winter and reflection of spring. Forever destined to follow in each other’s wake, barely close enough to touch.
He does not fancy himself a poet, but this whole scene splayed before him seems to only allow beautiful thoughts to pull through. He almost thinks that Yumichika should be here to witness something undeniably more beautiful than anything he’s ever known.
He’s somewhat saddened to watch her finish up, still radiant and serene, but a bit more closed off; not a small amount of exhaustion playing on her features. He doesn’t offer her a steady hand when she finds her way to him, doesn’t offer any insight into his previous thoughts. But he is there, had been there, and there’s a small smile playing on his lips that tells of things not yet said. And it is enough.
For now.