(no subject)
Nov. 4th, 2004 02:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moonsheenI drown my sorrows in chocolate, chips, pr0n, and more vague character wanking. I have come to the conclusion Kuchiki Rukia is a little consumer whore. Among other things.
Rukia sheathes her sword and stands with her feet apart. She breathes in exhaustion and breathes out a vague satisfaction. The stones around her are torn. Tonight someone will scurry about to set them back in place, or maybe the next night—the city heals its wounds in its own ways. It is an efficiency Rukia, had she taken more than a passing interest in it, would be able to recite down to even the most inconsequential of statistics. As it stands she knows names of the latest state-of-the-art-fresh-out-of-the-experimental-stages-with-minimum-casualities products (A Soul Vice; essential for those uppity spirits that won’t stay still, newly updated Memory Changers; 256 new memories with 30% more plausibility, Spirit Beads; the latest in Soul Society fashions also an effective ward against….) She doesn’t know the names of the rookies who will be stuck sweeping the streets this evening.
Rukia watches Renji wipe the blood off of the back of his wrist with his mouth. He hunches slightly to do it. It’s an animal motion and he takes his time; for all that it is a simple swipe of the tongue, once, twice, thrice, and done. When he sets his hand at his side and straightens, he is a man again, or as much a man as Rukia will admit, which is: a complete beast.
Rukia watches. She wants. Of this she is aware. She wants a number of things, after all. If she bothered, she could list them. In neat script. Clinging to a wall (with a little pink pin). Thusly:
--she wants to have a drink tomorrow in her favorite teahouse—tea, and not sake, because sake takes her head in the first gulp and she has been aware of this since as long as she can remember. (more precisely, her first year in school.)
--she wants to get the paperwork done. It’s on her desk. Still in two piles. Three if one counts what she will kidnap from her captain’s study in the near future, in the darker hours of the early morning, with a deftness she will shamelessly pride herself for.
--she wants the next Association meeting to be productive; which means putting the issue of Flower Arrangement and more interdivision representation down for a few meetings or so to discuss the possibilities of arrangements for the coming festival—if it’s coming. The officials have been late this year in giving their approval and that bothers her.
--she wants to find a nice kimono, one not too fancy (like most of what’s in her wardrobe), understated enough to make if nothing else a good presentation in her next visit to her family’s estate.
--she wants. the. damn. bunny.
--she wants also to be pressed to the nearest serviceable surface. With weight laid across her forearms, wet breath against the back of her neck. With heat, obnoxious amounts of heat. With that mouth on her shoulders, at the soft spot below her ribs, between her thighs—
She will get to at least one of these things in the course of an evening.
Rukia sheathes her sword and stands with her feet apart. She breathes in exhaustion and breathes out a vague satisfaction. The stones around her are torn. Tonight someone will scurry about to set them back in place, or maybe the next night—the city heals its wounds in its own ways. It is an efficiency Rukia, had she taken more than a passing interest in it, would be able to recite down to even the most inconsequential of statistics. As it stands she knows names of the latest state-of-the-art-fresh-out-of-the-experimental-stages-with-minimum-casualities products (A Soul Vice; essential for those uppity spirits that won’t stay still, newly updated Memory Changers; 256 new memories with 30% more plausibility, Spirit Beads; the latest in Soul Society fashions also an effective ward against….) She doesn’t know the names of the rookies who will be stuck sweeping the streets this evening.
Rukia watches Renji wipe the blood off of the back of his wrist with his mouth. He hunches slightly to do it. It’s an animal motion and he takes his time; for all that it is a simple swipe of the tongue, once, twice, thrice, and done. When he sets his hand at his side and straightens, he is a man again, or as much a man as Rukia will admit, which is: a complete beast.
Rukia watches. She wants. Of this she is aware. She wants a number of things, after all. If she bothered, she could list them. In neat script. Clinging to a wall (with a little pink pin). Thusly:
--she wants to have a drink tomorrow in her favorite teahouse—tea, and not sake, because sake takes her head in the first gulp and she has been aware of this since as long as she can remember. (more precisely, her first year in school.)
--she wants to get the paperwork done. It’s on her desk. Still in two piles. Three if one counts what she will kidnap from her captain’s study in the near future, in the darker hours of the early morning, with a deftness she will shamelessly pride herself for.
--she wants the next Association meeting to be productive; which means putting the issue of Flower Arrangement and more interdivision representation down for a few meetings or so to discuss the possibilities of arrangements for the coming festival—if it’s coming. The officials have been late this year in giving their approval and that bothers her.
--she wants to find a nice kimono, one not too fancy (like most of what’s in her wardrobe), understated enough to make if nothing else a good presentation in her next visit to her family’s estate.
--she wants. the. damn. bunny.
--she wants also to be pressed to the nearest serviceable surface. With weight laid across her forearms, wet breath against the back of her neck. With heat, obnoxious amounts of heat. With that mouth on her shoulders, at the soft spot below her ribs, between her thighs—
She will get to at least one of these things in the course of an evening.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2004-11-04 01:20 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-11-04 03:17 pm (UTC)You and a few others are the reasons why I keep trucking into the Bleach anime and manga even with the first volume's boring me to tears.
From Aaron...
Date: 2004-11-05 12:10 am (UTC)"And don't worry, I'm going to visit Lili this weekend, and i've decided that what I want to do in Washington is A) Say hello and B) Kidnap the president and beat him with baseball bats."
Did I ever say how much I love my brother?
(no subject)
Date: 2004-11-05 04:10 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-11-05 10:46 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-11-05 11:40 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-29 09:18 am (UTC)*giggles*
Sorry about the -really- late comment but I just loved that line!!