#hunter (sango)

[tcnseigad]

"I'm glad you came back." <3

Sesshomaru regards Sango across the stream.  He leaps and lands beside her, on the same bank, turns, and faces the same scenery she faces. 

    “You understand that a wild thing cannot be called: only anticipated.” 

He glances down at her, and smiles one of his highly secret, smug little smiles. 

   “And so I am here.” 

[tcnseigad]

I’d feel a lot better if you were here..

Sesshomaru is braced between standing still and taking flight, Jaken already affixed to his fur like some enormous subservient tick.   His moonlit features are cross, but Sango’s admission is so candid and so sincere that each of the inu daiyoukai’s taut muscles relaxes into stasis.

     “Very well. I shall keep watch with you.  Are all the children of the village here?” 

Rin’s image is scorched into his brain, Rin’s deep umber eyes like the very wood on which the forest is built, large and trusting, a doe’s, bidding him care for the vulnerable.  It is Rin’s legacy in Sesshomaru that bids him ask Sango the question. 

[tcnseigad]

'want to hold my hand?'

   “Hnn.” 

Sesshomaru turns toward the taijiya, eyes hooded with quiet amusement. 

   “One of humanity’s more peculiar habits.” 

He glances away, but languidly offers her a taloned hand, palm up.  

[tcnseigad]

Just a bowl of food. Human food, but she'd offer it to him. Setting it within reach, leaving it up to him if he wanted it. 💖

The daiyoukai scents the bowl of rice in its savory broth from a distance.  

How odd humans are; this is always the first form of offering they bring those whom they wish to court, or treat kindly, or ingratiate.  

He drapes his mokomoko around the simple bowl, and lifts it to eye level. He sniffs.   

It’s made humbly but well: a daily staple of whomever might have gifted it, and therefore, it is as earnest and sincere as a tribute can be.  

The hunter’s scent, equally sinewy and bright, leather and sunny skin and something briny like faint sweat, lingers nearby. 

So this is his secret watcher.  

Sesshomaru indulges himself in that small smirk that has grown commoner and commoner. His mother’s accusations of “going soft” ring in his ears and it only slightly stings. 

One can be soft and wild, feral, still: isn’t that this girl’s special appeal?

He glances at his surroundings and quietly, gravely drains the bowl. 

He places it down, and leaves. 

[tcnseigad]

@nioiidamaa​ || Starter

     “You are unlike the others.  All the others.” 

On a face made nobly stoic, the slightest cracks show, in the flinch of an eyebrow, the lock of a jaw muscle. He is struggling, struggling to dig to the bottom of a rich dirt mound of sensations. He is feeling, and looking for how to make it plain, without loss of dignity. Without an unseemly display.

     “Hai, you are . . . . When you are here, it. It is like. Hn, yes, like a very soft and graceful triumph.  It is . . . warm.” 

A pause, and then, for the first time, the godlike warrior tries on the hunter’s name.

   “Sango.”  Two syllables, calm and clear. There is a smile in Sesshomaru’s voice, and the spark of that warmth unfurls in his chest, and the smile becomes visible. “Sango.  It is good when you are here.” Realization dawns, and accomplishment, as golden eyes like twin harvest moons fall on her features, the light in them like silent laughter, with a look that is so open. 

So free. 

[tcnseigad]

💋 chuu~

Send 💋 to give my muse a kiss. 

Few can boast reflexes as honed as Sesshomaru’s.  Yet after the demon hunter approaches him, and kisses him full on the lips–and does so ardently, leaving them chapped and swollen–he an do little but stand in stunned silence. 

For the span of three, maybe five or six, seconds. 

Then Sesshomaru’s left–regrown–arm streaks past Sango’s waist. Claws dig into the side of Hiraikotsu. The bone whistles with the mark of his talons on its surface.  In a single violent lurch he has disarmed her, and tossed the weapon harshly to the ground beside them.  

Now one hand seizes the wrist of her throwing arm, the other her waist, shoving her against the nearest vertical surface. Hard.

    “I did NOT give you permission to TOUCH ME!”

The words are explosive–hundreds of years starved of any sense of mutual tactility, all for necessity; all to create the distance of the regal and of the perfect, bubbling to the surface with violent abandon.  A still more violent fear of intimacy, and the loss of control implicit in such vulnerability, lurks.    “Human! You HUMAN--!!!” 

But before he can follow through with any kind of threat, Sesshomaru is returning that vicious kiss. 

[tcnseigad]

what are your thoughts, sesshomaru-sama - on rin and sango's interactions during the final act?

Development anons! 

      “ … . the hunter is among the more bearable of Inuyasha’s comrades.  She is even-tempered and intelligent, proud and fierce.”

With terrifying indifference, he expounds,

    “ It had been my intention to kill her.  For she chose to sacrifice what was mine to protect.  The act was short-sighted, yielding to Naraku’s most transparent of manipulations.”

Taloned fingers ripple, one after the other, forward and back in their sockets. It’s a single, contemplative, implicitly aggressive display. 

    “However.  She soon proved her mettle as a warrior by paying her debt.  Her miasma mask was given to Rin.  And Rin held her no grudge.  What is more, the boy Kohaku, who is dear to Rin, is the hunter’s brother.  I did not feel that retribution was necessary.  Nor do I now.”