I have honestly gotten such a lovely welcome to writeblr after starting this blog... heck, I haven't even managed to do a proper WIP intro for my main series yet, and I've about passed my main blog follower count.
But I started to think I should maybe have... some writing here, probably. So I was looking for something and stumbled across this piece I wrote a while ago that has never seen the light of day. Guess that makes this a tumblr exclusive?
Also, what better way to introduce my story's battle couple than the classic "who did this to you" trope?
There Are Worse Things
Things have returned to normal at the Palamidia's Tower after Vahn's Saint Trials… or at least, they should have. Despite Velinius's warnings, Kanna can't stop thinking about Haru, the Prince of Lugos. Even worse, she can't seem to stay away from him.
characters: Kanna, Haru, Vahn
word count: 1.3k
CW: implied violence, blood.
Haru was late.
On the sideline of the sparring arena, Kanna watched as Vahn worked with one of the Prospects, stopping to correct the girl’s form. She looked up at him, wide-eyed and soft, before they began again.
Kanna rolled her eyes, leaning back against the bench. She adjusted the wraps around her knuckles again, unwinding and rewinding them, trying to focus on the feel of the cloth against her skin.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t focus.
Haru had met her here every day for weeks. The same time, the same place. It was an agreement, unspoken and hanging between them. They had rarely spoken, now that she thought back to it. What she knew of him was what everyone did, and that had always been enough for her.
It wasn’t enough now.
The wraps twisted in her grip. She yanked them off, unwinding the mess and dropping them to the training room floor.
She caught Vahn’s eye and crooked her finger at him. He spared a few words to those that had gathered then jogged across the mats. With an exaggerated flourish he turned, dropping into the seat next to her.
“Where’s that guy?” she asked, not wanting to waste time.
Vahn crossed his arms, slouching next to her. He eyed her from the side. “I hate that I know who you’re talking about.”
“Where is he?”
Vahn sighed, letting his head pitch back on his neck. “I didn’t know it was my responsibility to keep track of the prince.”
Kanna narrowed her eyes. Vahn was often difficult, but she wasn’t in the mood for his games at the moment.
“Vahn.”
He twisted to meet her eyes. “Kanna.”
A moment hung between them, as if Vahn was testing her resolve. He looked away first. “I don’t know. I think I saw him earlier with some other low ranks, but not since.”
Kanna crossed her arms, leaning back to match Vahn’s posture. She turned to face him. “He is always here at this time. Where else would he be?”
Vahn met her gaze. “Did he say he’d meet you?”
She shook her head. “No. He has never said anything like that.”
“Maybe he just came to his senses.” Vahn shifted, leaning forward on his knees. “He’s probably tired of you slamming him into the mats. Everyone needs a break sometimes.”
Kanna slumped further into her seat. “I’ll break his leg, how about that.”
“That’s what I’m talking about. You understand that’s what I’m talking about, right?”
When Kanna didn’t respond, he stood. He stretched his arms over his head before pulling them to the sides, twisting his torso. “You can beat me up today, if it’ll make you feel better.”
Kanna jerked herself to standing. “Who said I feel anything?”
“Right,” Vahn nodded, smirking knowingly. “I forgot for a second. You are the hand in the dark, the void, the cold in the air. Not a person, though. Never that.”
Kanna looked down to her clenched fists, the lines from the wraps still indented on her skin.
Vahn’s chest rose and he exhaled, slow and steady. He placed a hand on each of her shoulders and leaned down, his forehead brushing hers. “The world doesn’t end if you admit you give a shit, K.” He straightened up, dropping his hands and stepping back. “So go look for him.”
Kanna shut her eyes. She swallowed. “Where?”
Her voice was small, strained. She had never looked for someone before, didn’t know how to even start.
“Try the common areas first,” Vahn said, his voice level, “or the locker rooms. Maybe he’s just running late.”
Kanna locked her shoulders back. “He shouldn’t be.”
She turned away, heading to the door.
“You tell him, K,” Vahn called, his teasing jibe following her as she left the amphitheater.
In the hall, Kanna wound through the milling bodies of the Prospects that waited, not wanting to touch them. The last time she had touched one, she had ended up like this. She didn’t know what to call the feeling she was currently having, but it was something like anger.
She leaned into the anger. Anger made sense to her. She could control anger, feed it or stave it off when needed.
At the end of the hall she made a sharp right, finding the door to the lower officers' locker room. The overhead lights flickered, half-lit. Her stomach sank at the emptiness. She paced down the rows of lockers, each identical to the next, her boots clicking out an echo. At the end of the row, the room angled.
It was larger than she thought it would be. She was used to the smaller changing rooms, the ones set aside for the officers and the guards.
The creaking of metal caused her to jump.
The room wasn’t as empty as it had appeared.
She followed the sound, her fingers gliding against the cool lockers.
***
Haru had made it to the locker rooms, bruised and bleeding, but where he needed to be was the amphitheater. Kanna was there at this time of day, and if he wanted to see her it was his only chance.
The others had come and gone, leaving the light half-lit and flickering. Slowly, achingly, he unbuttoned the dress shirt he had been wearing when he was corralled in the gardens.
The white shirt was streaked with green grass stains and blood, though the fact that not all of it was his was a small comfort. He touched the dark bruises forming near his ribs, yanking his hand away when the pain reverberated up his side, the sting reaching his fingertips.
He sat on the bench near the locker, his eyes screwed shut as he waited for the pain to subside.
“You were late.”
Haru jerked his head up, eyes wide. Kanna stood in the emptiness of the room, filling it. The white of her uniform created a halo around her in the dim light.
She was unaware of the way the light curled around her, drawn to her. He had never seen it behave that way. Things were usually drawn to light, not the other way around.
Kanna was different. When she saw him, she always looked away. She moved out of his sight every time he watched. The only time he was able to spend near her was when they practiced together, and she had almost treated their matches as an obligation.
She cocked her head to the side, her gaze flickering over him, her brow knitting together as she approached.
He tried to stand, but her hand on his shoulder kept him in place. His breath came sharp when she reached out. He didn’t dare to move.
Her touch was soft, careful. Her finger traced the underside of his jaw, and he couldn’t help but lift his chin to her.
He had been close to her, but not like this. She had always been moving, yanking out of his reach or diving in to strike. Now she was still. Something in him screamed a primal warning, a reminder that predators are always calm before they leap.
But he could see the array of freckles across her nose. A small scar bisecting her right eyebrow. His pain was forgotten as he looked into her eyes, the soft grey irises ringed in black.
She turned his face, studying the evidence of the fight. Her thumb brushed the corner of his mouth, so near his lips. He swallowed hard, choking down the shiver that ran through his body.
“Who did this to you?”
Her voice was forced into restraint, the eye of a brewing storm. Haru’s heart stuttered and skipped before starting again. He didn’t want this moment to end, but she was waiting.
“You could do worse.”
Kanna’s hand withdrew, and the sharp edges of his pain returned. He wondered if it was just his reaction that had dulled it, or if it was something she had done purposefully.
Either way, the absence of her touch made his skin ache.
“Yes.” His blood lingered on her fingers as she clenched her hands to fists. “And I will.”
