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crack_van2004-07-23 05:02 pm
boniblithe.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2004-07-23 05:02 pm
Entry tags:
Hyouten (R) by Tenshi no Korin
Fandom: YAMI NO MATSUEI
Pairing: Muraki/Oriya
Author on LJ: unknown
Author Website: Bishonenink
Why this must be read:
Three very good Yami fics at this author's site, and I chose this one out of them all to rec, but the other two are also worthy of a read. I chose Hyouten for the way the images draw themselves in my mind when I read it. Like a cat with a mouse in its paws, Muraki plays games with the people who come close to him, and Oriya is no exception. This short story is dreamy and atmospheric, by turns hot and sensual, sharp and cold. Oriya as seen through Muraki's eyes is complex and fascinating even in his thoughtful silence. Muraki as drawn so beautifully by this author is intelligent, detached, and manipulative, as he overcomes the challenge that is Oriya.
***
The garden of Ko Kaku Rou is strangely silent under snow. The bamboo fountain has frozen still, and the sound of it hitting stone is absent. The rain chains dangling from the roof have become bronze-hearted icicles, the path a low white trail marked with your footprints. You have not gone far, and I do not need to say your name for you to know I am there.
"How cold it becomes," I say, lifting the weight of your hair in my hands. It is a calculated move, you would shun any other touch from me, but this has ever been your weakness, and once breached, your gates yield. "So lovely. The snow catching in it looks like falling petals." You sigh a little through your teeth, and there is a note of frustration in it. Still your face is turned away, and I cannot see the way your lips grow thin and your brows draw together. I know them all the same.
***
Sometimes, like now, I think about killing you. Your hair a glorious black wave over the white snow, the dark grey and black of your winter-colored kimono fluttered open like skin peeled back to reveal secrets. I can just imagine the crimson splash of blood, how long it would stay vivid in the cold, tiny red jewels scattered in your hair, caught like beads in your eyelashes and the sweet hollow of your throat. How they would melt like winter berries on the tongue. It would be beautiful, that terrible stillness, but I like your motion better. I can predict it less.
***
Hyouten (Freezing Point)
Pairing: Muraki/Oriya
Author on LJ: unknown
Author Website: Bishonenink
Why this must be read:
Three very good Yami fics at this author's site, and I chose this one out of them all to rec, but the other two are also worthy of a read. I chose Hyouten for the way the images draw themselves in my mind when I read it. Like a cat with a mouse in its paws, Muraki plays games with the people who come close to him, and Oriya is no exception. This short story is dreamy and atmospheric, by turns hot and sensual, sharp and cold. Oriya as seen through Muraki's eyes is complex and fascinating even in his thoughtful silence. Muraki as drawn so beautifully by this author is intelligent, detached, and manipulative, as he overcomes the challenge that is Oriya.
***
The garden of Ko Kaku Rou is strangely silent under snow. The bamboo fountain has frozen still, and the sound of it hitting stone is absent. The rain chains dangling from the roof have become bronze-hearted icicles, the path a low white trail marked with your footprints. You have not gone far, and I do not need to say your name for you to know I am there.
"How cold it becomes," I say, lifting the weight of your hair in my hands. It is a calculated move, you would shun any other touch from me, but this has ever been your weakness, and once breached, your gates yield. "So lovely. The snow catching in it looks like falling petals." You sigh a little through your teeth, and there is a note of frustration in it. Still your face is turned away, and I cannot see the way your lips grow thin and your brows draw together. I know them all the same.
***
Sometimes, like now, I think about killing you. Your hair a glorious black wave over the white snow, the dark grey and black of your winter-colored kimono fluttered open like skin peeled back to reveal secrets. I can just imagine the crimson splash of blood, how long it would stay vivid in the cold, tiny red jewels scattered in your hair, caught like beads in your eyelashes and the sweet hollow of your throat. How they would melt like winter berries on the tongue. It would be beautiful, that terrible stillness, but I like your motion better. I can predict it less.
***
Hyouten (Freezing Point)