-- [Ita+Koya!gen; G]
Title: --
Author: the_lady_lamb
Genre: Naruto
Sub-genre: Drabble/Gen
Summary: Koyasu has never loved any one the way she loves her father. Good morning.
Rated: PG for barely-even there incest.
Author's Notes: Possibly the most boring thing I've ever written; mostly for fujiappletan and yukari-rin. It's from the French!verse. Hence the French.
Koyasu counts her father’s breaths. Two to feel she is there. Four until his eyes flutter. Twelve until he sees her. The muddy outline of her, really, she knows he is blinder now than he has ever been. As always. She waits patiently, her hair hanging like a silk curtain, thick and dark across the left side of her face. When he is awake enough not to startle, she reaches up and pushes it back behind her ear, all the while expecting it to the fall again. Koyasu is by no means stupid. She knows how gravity works, and that when she gets up, the grass will have pressed its shape in grooves to the bend of her elbows.
She smiles. “Good morning.”
“It is afternoon,” Itachi says lowly, closing his eyes again. Koyasu reaches up and traces her fingertips along his eyelids and he lets her. They’re as pale as the rest of him. With dark lashes. And blue veins like stitching beneath a veil of white. She breathes, “haaah”, an invisible steam on his forehead and he sighs as she makes maps in it. Writes the word, “noir”.
“Papillion”.
“Coccinelle”.
“D'oiseau”.
“A emprisonné”.
”L'emprisonnement”.
“Pour toujours”.
When she is finished, the short, girlish nail of her forefinger has made his forehead a swollen baby pink. She rubs her nose against it and his thin hair collects, tangles, and tickles at her nostrils.
“I thought people said good morning when they woke up,” she said, returning to where she’d left their brevity.
Itachi hummed lowly, behind his lips. Like he was chiding. Koyasu thought, quietly, that all animals seemed to scold their young in the same manner. “Greetings are contingent upon the time when the greeter deigns to make use of them.”
“And if you do not know the time?”
“Then it seems inappropriate to greet a body in the first place.”
Author: the_lady_lamb
Genre: Naruto
Sub-genre: Drabble/Gen
Summary: Koyasu has never loved any one the way she loves her father. Good morning.
Rated: PG for barely-even there incest.
Author's Notes: Possibly the most boring thing I've ever written; mostly for fujiappletan and yukari-rin. It's from the French!verse. Hence the French.
Koyasu counts her father’s breaths. Two to feel she is there. Four until his eyes flutter. Twelve until he sees her. The muddy outline of her, really, she knows he is blinder now than he has ever been. As always. She waits patiently, her hair hanging like a silk curtain, thick and dark across the left side of her face. When he is awake enough not to startle, she reaches up and pushes it back behind her ear, all the while expecting it to the fall again. Koyasu is by no means stupid. She knows how gravity works, and that when she gets up, the grass will have pressed its shape in grooves to the bend of her elbows.
She smiles. “Good morning.”
“It is afternoon,” Itachi says lowly, closing his eyes again. Koyasu reaches up and traces her fingertips along his eyelids and he lets her. They’re as pale as the rest of him. With dark lashes. And blue veins like stitching beneath a veil of white. She breathes, “haaah”, an invisible steam on his forehead and he sighs as she makes maps in it. Writes the word, “noir”.
“Papillion”.
“Coccinelle”.
“D'oiseau”.
“A emprisonné”.
”L'emprisonnement”.
“Pour toujours”.
When she is finished, the short, girlish nail of her forefinger has made his forehead a swollen baby pink. She rubs her nose against it and his thin hair collects, tangles, and tickles at her nostrils.
“I thought people said good morning when they woke up,” she said, returning to where she’d left their brevity.
Itachi hummed lowly, behind his lips. Like he was chiding. Koyasu thought, quietly, that all animals seemed to scold their young in the same manner. “Greetings are contingent upon the time when the greeter deigns to make use of them.”
“And if you do not know the time?”
“Then it seems inappropriate to greet a body in the first place.”