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Jun. 6th, 2009 05:04 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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kh_drabbleChallenge: [189] Poker Face
Title: variations on a sea
Word Count: 321
Notes: Post-game readjusting. Learning to remember and learning to forgive.
That first day back, before the hugging and the crying and the reunions and the i-missed-yous, they stay at the beach. It's easier that way, somehow, because the ocean never changes. Kairi teeters on the dunes while he walks along the breaking waves (they don't crash, not quite—not after all that's happened since he's been here last. They kneel subserviently in return, leaving a tithing of sandpaper pebbles in their wake).
She looks down when she walks, for shells and for the sheer purpose of making sure that the ground wouldn't fall from underneath her this time. She comes up with a broken conch, a frail sense of security and a stone that looks like a sunrise. Not a bad start to a long summer.
It's not been a mile, not nearly, but Sora's feet are forgetful and the sand seems to recoil at the sight of him. His lips are slack and his breath comes like he's been punched in the stomach. He falls behind more than once, looking around at nothing in particular—the sky, the palms, the hint of cloud along the setting sun. Kairi yells at him, laughing, to hurry up and he obliges, slipping every which way as he runs.
When he reaches her, he slips; an angry wave stole the sand from under him. Kairi grabs his arm, lightning-quick, to steady him. He rights himself and grins in return. It doesn't reach his eyes. Kairi shakes her head and fixes her eyes on the horizon. It's alright, after all. Time is something they have in abundance—the sun even seems to sink more slowly now that they're back—and she can spare enough forgiveness for him to be a little slow to remember. It's been a few years; it's the least she could do.
She tightens her fingers in his sleeve, tugs him toward the paopu tree. It's getting dark, and Riku is waiting.
Title: variations on a sea
Word Count: 321
Notes: Post-game readjusting. Learning to remember and learning to forgive.
That first day back, before the hugging and the crying and the reunions and the i-missed-yous, they stay at the beach. It's easier that way, somehow, because the ocean never changes. Kairi teeters on the dunes while he walks along the breaking waves (they don't crash, not quite—not after all that's happened since he's been here last. They kneel subserviently in return, leaving a tithing of sandpaper pebbles in their wake).
She looks down when she walks, for shells and for the sheer purpose of making sure that the ground wouldn't fall from underneath her this time. She comes up with a broken conch, a frail sense of security and a stone that looks like a sunrise. Not a bad start to a long summer.
It's not been a mile, not nearly, but Sora's feet are forgetful and the sand seems to recoil at the sight of him. His lips are slack and his breath comes like he's been punched in the stomach. He falls behind more than once, looking around at nothing in particular—the sky, the palms, the hint of cloud along the setting sun. Kairi yells at him, laughing, to hurry up and he obliges, slipping every which way as he runs.
When he reaches her, he slips; an angry wave stole the sand from under him. Kairi grabs his arm, lightning-quick, to steady him. He rights himself and grins in return. It doesn't reach his eyes. Kairi shakes her head and fixes her eyes on the horizon. It's alright, after all. Time is something they have in abundance—the sun even seems to sink more slowly now that they're back—and she can spare enough forgiveness for him to be a little slow to remember. It's been a few years; it's the least she could do.
She tightens her fingers in his sleeve, tugs him toward the paopu tree. It's getting dark, and Riku is waiting.
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