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Prompt: 22. Senses
Characters: Aniki, Kora
Words: 500
Contains femmeslash and Terrier spoilers.

I'm not as pleased with this as the others - I fought with it for a long time - but this is probably the best it will get until I put some space between its writing and revising.



Aniki knows better than to wake Kora up before ten if she wants to get away without her hair being singed. Instead, she takes in the things she never thinks about during the day. She runs her fingers through Kora's hair, untangling any snarls that it wound into during the night. Darker strands weave in and out of the even chestnut, creating a rich brown. The weak morning light filtering through the window defines any shadows and casts a pale circlet around her head.

Slightly flushed in sleep, Kora's face is smooth and almost still, except for her eyes, which flit beneath her eyelids, and their lashes, which move in time. Aniki ghosts her forefinger along the soft line of her jaw and around the point of her heart shaped face. Her lips part with a shallow sigh before she burrows deeper into the pillow. Aniki presses her lips against the back of Kora's hand and tastes the traces of lavender and chamomile that she had worked with earlier in the day.

One of Kora's hands is folded beneath her head and the other stretches out to meet Aniki's shoulder. Her body is rounded into a gentle crescent and her legs twine with the the blonde's. Aniki likes these unconscious touches most of all; they tell her more than any amount of canoodling that Kora wants her, trusts her, needs her, loves her.


At night, after every lamp has been doused, Kora curls up behind Aniki and lets herself take in the things that she never thinks about during the day. Aniki falls into sleep easily - for all the time she is on guard during the day, she drops her defenses as soon as she slips between the sheets - but Kora's mind never seems to give in easily. Against her chest, Kora can feel the muscles in her partner's back relax. With their locked hands, her fingers tips meet the sinewed back of Aniki's hand, while her palm rubs against the callouses from daily swordsmanship.

For all the harshness in her muscled form, her skin is satiny. Tracing her fingers down Aniki's body, Kora can note with startling precision each scar drawn across her flesh. Instead of lingering on mortality, she slides her fingers through the blonde hair she can not see; like her skin, it manages to stay smooth against the forces of sweat, dirt, blood. Stiil, there is much in Aniki seems a little coarse: the firm angles instead of forgiving curves, the sprawl of her limbs, the dry crackle on her lips, her somewhat obnoxious snore.

Kora soothes her mind with the slow even shhh of Aniki's breath and the light musk in the air around her. It reminds her of the relaxation the other girl succumbs to so easily in sleep. In this defenselessness, Kora that knows that Aniki wants her, trusts her, needs her, loves her.