shiegra (shiegra) wrote in no_true_pair, @ 2008-06-24 22:27:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! 2008 twelve characters challenge, author: shiegra, fandom: d.gray-man, pairing: fou/tyki mick |
D.Grayman, Fou/Tykki Mick, "Professional Opinion"
Title: Professional Opinion
Author/Artist: shiegra
Fandom: D.Grayman
Pairing/characters: Fou, Tykki Mick
Rating: PG13/R
Prompt/challenge you're answering: * Fou and Tykki Mick with the title, "Professional Opinion."
When he found her, slipping through the empty halls in wary girl-shape, his smile gave him away but not before the velvet-heavy scent of blood riding the heady air around him.
“A straggler?” He asked, and reached toward her face with his gloved fingers. “Lost your way? Allow me to help you.”
He smelled like death; she’s not stupid or young, and the disrespect is appalling. “Little Noah,” she declared, showing her scorn, “have you lost all respect for your elders?”
The Master’s quarters were in the direction he was headed, and the youngest was just born, a squalling bundle of red child. She’d hunted these halls since his first cry, tracking the scent of danger through the air. And it had culminated here, in this gentleman with an elegant smile and a predator's rich black musk.
He looked almost surprised. God, but he really was young; she paced closer, rippling along the edges from slim lithe girl-flesh to more dangerous edges, long honed strokes. The air sang around her, her home rousing to her touch.
“I’ve been guarding these walls for centuries.” She told him, voice iced with challenge. “It’ll take more than a stripling Noah to get past me.”
He bowed, an elaborate courtesy that didn’t quite hide the night-slick flood of black in his eyes. At the edge of her hearing she heard the high hungry chatter of Tease, and gave him a smile full of raw mockery. “Are you going to fight me?”
“I’m afraid my hand is forced, lady.” He said. Charming, carefully mellow tone.
That made her laugh. Men had called her ‘lady’ before, in different languages, in different ages. Almost as often as they cursed her. She left behind the gentility of youth and allowed herself to become something else, power dancing down what passed for her nerve endings and drawing her with witch-sparks into something greater.
“Perhaps I’ll teach you manners,” she suggested, and the walls hummed to life around him. “In my professional opinion, you need to learn some courtesy.”