Web We Weave (When First We Practice)
The cute version. Maybe 1,400 words. Oh, and LJ ATE my mandatory Femmeslash Advisory. Because it's an IntarwebWide conspiracy.
Kitana bit back a curse when she struck her toe on the foot of the bed. The word was quite unladylike...and entirely inappropriate, given her sister's attire. What little she could see of it, though there didn't seem to be much. Mileena's robe was far too thin, less like an item of clothing and more like a layer of paint, a lilac watercolor glazed with dragons. The dragons were only things in the room that were not purple. Instead they matched the color of her skin. All the way down.
Kitana had a sudden urge to ask whether they would bite, then thought better of it.
Mileena smirked. "Do us a favor, princess, and shut the fucking door if you plan to stay."
She had no right to look so...There were words, adverbs, for the way she was lounging there, but most of them were scandalous at best. At worst they were as smooth as the silk she wore, sleek tactile concepts that invited touch.
Absolutely not.
"If you want something done right," Kitana said sweetly, "do it yourself."
"Only for you." Mileena slid out from under the covers and paced to the door. That little half-turn at the end had to have been deliberate; they were both right-handed. The dragons skirled with her when she moved, as though seeking a place to rest, or a tighter grip on the flesh beneath. "Aren't you the least bit curious?"
Kitana blinked. "What?"
"About why I asked you here." She more or less flittered back to the bed and sat down; the dragons danced.
"Very." Kitana cleared her throat. "Interested in what could possibly be so important that you felt the need to drag me out of bed."
"No, angel," scoffed Mileena. "You dragged yourself out of bed. And I am so glad you did. We've a traitor in our midst. Figuratively speaking." She shrugged. The robe tilted dangerously, sliding off one shoulder, and she didn't bother to adjust it. Her eyes glittered as she leaned closer, much too close, practically whispering in Kitana's ear. "I found out who it is."
"And," the princess swallowed hard, suddenly cold. "This traitor fellow. His allies? What happens to them?"
"Now that depends." She could feel Mileena smiling, the sharp look of wanting and fear doing battle. The one she'd felt pressed against her shoulderblades whenever she went walking, the one she'd almost caught in the arena that afternoon when they were tangled together on the sand, a flurry of arms and legs fighting bitterly for control. She still was not sure which of them had it. "On how far she is willing to go for them."
Mileena. Definitely Mileena. For the moment. Kitana turned her head to the side, lips pursed.
"Don't be vulgar."
"Who's being vulgar?" Her teeth came together with a sharp snap. Her voice seeped between them, low and heated, dangerous. "I'm being realistic. And I haven't laid a hand on you, though I might."
Kitana shivered. And not from cold.
"That's vile."
It was a thin lie, only half a real lie at best--certainly other people would have found it reprehensible--but it was expected; their parts in this were rote. It always went the same way. And more was the pity. Mileena looked so...soft, that was a good word, a safe word that did not make her think of texture and scent and the shadows her hair made against her naked shoulder.
Soft was perhaps not the safest word after all. No, but better than the others. Mileena wouldn't have believed them, 'gorgeous' least of all. Edible. She might have fallen for edible. Nomads translated absolutely everything into sex or food or some combination of the two plus sleep; and all three sounded like a nice plan, and Saints preserve them both, she was doing it again.
Angry. She had to be angry. And superior and snide. Or else she would do something foolish. Maybe repeatedly. While screaming with abandon.
Righteous anger would be best, it was the sort she had the most motive for. How dare this--this outrage, this woman-creature, this...how dare she propose that without saying a word. She had no right to make Kitana think anything. Least of all these kinds of things. About her own sister.
Maybe it was reprehensible, at that. Mileena didn't look particularly concerned.
"Of course it's vile. So am I. And...Oh, what's Jade say about me? A good look at what's wrong with Outworld?" She chuckled. "She's a prize, that one. Definitely deserves to wear the jealous color."
"She doesn't mean it."
"Yes, that's right, defend her. Because she lets you." Mileena's fingers made knots in the sheet, nearly tearing it. She very carefully did not reach for Kitana; if she did, she might have strangled her. "Did you think I wouldn't know? That I couldn't feel it? Or maybe that I wouldn't understand."
Kitana lashed out and hit her hard, openhanded, and then swore bitterly about the cuts it made in her palm.
"Baraka certainly understands," she spat.
Mileena stared at her, angry and intent. The thinner veil she wore to bed was in tatters that did nothing to hide the scarlet fingerprints spreading under them. Or her lips. Thin and too dark and delicate, insanely delicate, alongside those teeth. Her tongue was perched behind them, blocking the hiss of outrage she was dying to make, stamped down firmly. Kitana knew it was pink, an unreal sangria-reddish shade of pink, like a ballgown sprayed with blood. A shiny wet bit of bait in a steel trap.
Crushing that thought was more difficult than she liked. The room seemed quite warm, now, and she wished she hadn't come here. Her hand burned. Not as much as her face. She hadn't meant to do it so hard.
"Aww, little princess doesn't like having to share." Mileena grit her teeth, grinding them into a smile. The dragons trembled. "It's driving you mad, isn't it, my little friends and their claws. Drawing patterns."
"What of?" A random question; breathless, inane. It was much too hot in here. Her hand was bleeding and it was hard to think with her face aching and Mileena perched there, almost right up against her, looking like something illicit waiting to happen.
Her lips curled up sharply in amusement, tongue stroking her teeth. "Connection."
"And you're an expert."
"I wonder why," she said slowly, "that wasn't a question. Don't I deserve the benefit of the doubt?"
Kitana was back at her with her own words. Regaining control. She would have the upper hand if it killed her. "Did you think I couldn't feel it?"
"Don't bait me, Princess," she snapped. Never pulling away. The effect was possessive and unnerving. "I'm not one of your rebels or your guards or her."
"And thank goodness." Kitana smiled. "I couldn't love another obedient puppy dog."
"Wh--" That startled her. A little puff of air, a breath of shock. "What did you say?"
She stiffened when Kitana put an arm around her, absolutely still. Then she pushed back, digging her fingers into her twin's neck just at the top of her spine, crushing her close, breath ragged as she buried her face in her hair. It was impossible to tell whether she was crying, laughing, or just hunting for stronger scent. That last seemed most likely; when Kitana made no move to resist, Mileena started kissing her neck. Her tongue had a grain to it, like her skin; the effect was unusual but not at all unpleasant, swift and lively and hot.
A few moments of that, of the overriding certainty that came with it, the need and the worship and the pressure--enough of that, and right and wrong achieved a new level of pointless. Morals were a stupid consideration for an assassin, particularly one that had all but admitted to treason. Though it could come in handy, if Mileena decided she wanted to run to daddy with the news. After all, she would then have to explain where the knowledge came from, and exactly how she had gotten it.
Kitana smiled.
"You heard me." Lifting her head, facing her, was like looking at a mirror--an earnest and dark mirror; sweaty imprints on a window coated with steam. This was so pathetically easy it was almost unfair. Almost.
She had no right to be so attractive. That was not supposed to be among the abilities of an evil twin. Especially not this one. And it wasn't as if Kitana were twisting her arm; truly, it was rather the reverse. Mileena wanted it. Hells, she deserved it. Almost.
"Say it again."
"All right." Kitana shut her eyes and relaxed in her sister's grip. "I couldn't possibly love someone like that."
-shiagari-
a/n: more commonly, "owari", the end, shiagari means "finished" or "complete", and to this end is a bit more like saying finis instead. In short: I'm showing off. XD
See? See? Told you nothing happens.
Kitana bit back a curse when she struck her toe on the foot of the bed. The word was quite unladylike...and entirely inappropriate, given her sister's attire. What little she could see of it, though there didn't seem to be much. Mileena's robe was far too thin, less like an item of clothing and more like a layer of paint, a lilac watercolor glazed with dragons. The dragons were only things in the room that were not purple. Instead they matched the color of her skin. All the way down.
Kitana had a sudden urge to ask whether they would bite, then thought better of it.
Mileena smirked. "Do us a favor, princess, and shut the fucking door if you plan to stay."
She had no right to look so...There were words, adverbs, for the way she was lounging there, but most of them were scandalous at best. At worst they were as smooth as the silk she wore, sleek tactile concepts that invited touch.
Absolutely not.
"If you want something done right," Kitana said sweetly, "do it yourself."
"Only for you." Mileena slid out from under the covers and paced to the door. That little half-turn at the end had to have been deliberate; they were both right-handed. The dragons skirled with her when she moved, as though seeking a place to rest, or a tighter grip on the flesh beneath. "Aren't you the least bit curious?"
Kitana blinked. "What?"
"About why I asked you here." She more or less flittered back to the bed and sat down; the dragons danced.
"Very." Kitana cleared her throat. "Interested in what could possibly be so important that you felt the need to drag me out of bed."
"No, angel," scoffed Mileena. "You dragged yourself out of bed. And I am so glad you did. We've a traitor in our midst. Figuratively speaking." She shrugged. The robe tilted dangerously, sliding off one shoulder, and she didn't bother to adjust it. Her eyes glittered as she leaned closer, much too close, practically whispering in Kitana's ear. "I found out who it is."
"And," the princess swallowed hard, suddenly cold. "This traitor fellow. His allies? What happens to them?"
"Now that depends." She could feel Mileena smiling, the sharp look of wanting and fear doing battle. The one she'd felt pressed against her shoulderblades whenever she went walking, the one she'd almost caught in the arena that afternoon when they were tangled together on the sand, a flurry of arms and legs fighting bitterly for control. She still was not sure which of them had it. "On how far she is willing to go for them."
Mileena. Definitely Mileena. For the moment. Kitana turned her head to the side, lips pursed.
"Don't be vulgar."
"Who's being vulgar?" Her teeth came together with a sharp snap. Her voice seeped between them, low and heated, dangerous. "I'm being realistic. And I haven't laid a hand on you, though I might."
Kitana shivered. And not from cold.
"That's vile."
It was a thin lie, only half a real lie at best--certainly other people would have found it reprehensible--but it was expected; their parts in this were rote. It always went the same way. And more was the pity. Mileena looked so...soft, that was a good word, a safe word that did not make her think of texture and scent and the shadows her hair made against her naked shoulder.
Soft was perhaps not the safest word after all. No, but better than the others. Mileena wouldn't have believed them, 'gorgeous' least of all. Edible. She might have fallen for edible. Nomads translated absolutely everything into sex or food or some combination of the two plus sleep; and all three sounded like a nice plan, and Saints preserve them both, she was doing it again.
Angry. She had to be angry. And superior and snide. Or else she would do something foolish. Maybe repeatedly. While screaming with abandon.
Righteous anger would be best, it was the sort she had the most motive for. How dare this--this outrage, this woman-creature, this...how dare she propose that without saying a word. She had no right to make Kitana think anything. Least of all these kinds of things. About her own sister.
Maybe it was reprehensible, at that. Mileena didn't look particularly concerned.
"Of course it's vile. So am I. And...Oh, what's Jade say about me? A good look at what's wrong with Outworld?" She chuckled. "She's a prize, that one. Definitely deserves to wear the jealous color."
"She doesn't mean it."
"Yes, that's right, defend her. Because she lets you." Mileena's fingers made knots in the sheet, nearly tearing it. She very carefully did not reach for Kitana; if she did, she might have strangled her. "Did you think I wouldn't know? That I couldn't feel it? Or maybe that I wouldn't understand."
Kitana lashed out and hit her hard, openhanded, and then swore bitterly about the cuts it made in her palm.
"Baraka certainly understands," she spat.
Mileena stared at her, angry and intent. The thinner veil she wore to bed was in tatters that did nothing to hide the scarlet fingerprints spreading under them. Or her lips. Thin and too dark and delicate, insanely delicate, alongside those teeth. Her tongue was perched behind them, blocking the hiss of outrage she was dying to make, stamped down firmly. Kitana knew it was pink, an unreal sangria-reddish shade of pink, like a ballgown sprayed with blood. A shiny wet bit of bait in a steel trap.
Crushing that thought was more difficult than she liked. The room seemed quite warm, now, and she wished she hadn't come here. Her hand burned. Not as much as her face. She hadn't meant to do it so hard.
"Aww, little princess doesn't like having to share." Mileena grit her teeth, grinding them into a smile. The dragons trembled. "It's driving you mad, isn't it, my little friends and their claws. Drawing patterns."
"What of?" A random question; breathless, inane. It was much too hot in here. Her hand was bleeding and it was hard to think with her face aching and Mileena perched there, almost right up against her, looking like something illicit waiting to happen.
Her lips curled up sharply in amusement, tongue stroking her teeth. "Connection."
"And you're an expert."
"I wonder why," she said slowly, "that wasn't a question. Don't I deserve the benefit of the doubt?"
Kitana was back at her with her own words. Regaining control. She would have the upper hand if it killed her. "Did you think I couldn't feel it?"
"Don't bait me, Princess," she snapped. Never pulling away. The effect was possessive and unnerving. "I'm not one of your rebels or your guards or her."
"And thank goodness." Kitana smiled. "I couldn't love another obedient puppy dog."
"Wh--" That startled her. A little puff of air, a breath of shock. "What did you say?"
She stiffened when Kitana put an arm around her, absolutely still. Then she pushed back, digging her fingers into her twin's neck just at the top of her spine, crushing her close, breath ragged as she buried her face in her hair. It was impossible to tell whether she was crying, laughing, or just hunting for stronger scent. That last seemed most likely; when Kitana made no move to resist, Mileena started kissing her neck. Her tongue had a grain to it, like her skin; the effect was unusual but not at all unpleasant, swift and lively and hot.
A few moments of that, of the overriding certainty that came with it, the need and the worship and the pressure--enough of that, and right and wrong achieved a new level of pointless. Morals were a stupid consideration for an assassin, particularly one that had all but admitted to treason. Though it could come in handy, if Mileena decided she wanted to run to daddy with the news. After all, she would then have to explain where the knowledge came from, and exactly how she had gotten it.
Kitana smiled.
"You heard me." Lifting her head, facing her, was like looking at a mirror--an earnest and dark mirror; sweaty imprints on a window coated with steam. This was so pathetically easy it was almost unfair. Almost.
She had no right to be so attractive. That was not supposed to be among the abilities of an evil twin. Especially not this one. And it wasn't as if Kitana were twisting her arm; truly, it was rather the reverse. Mileena wanted it. Hells, she deserved it. Almost.
"Say it again."
"All right." Kitana shut her eyes and relaxed in her sister's grip. "I couldn't possibly love someone like that."
-shiagari-
a/n: more commonly, "owari", the end, shiagari means "finished" or "complete", and to this end is a bit more like saying finis instead. In short: I'm showing off. XD
See? See? Told you nothing happens.