genshin impact, m/f, oc x oc, we yearning in the sumeru desert now, solomehr, sandstorm (?) their shipname ...
very self indulgent short drabble with me and my friend's sumeru jinni and valuka shuna ocs, solomon and mehr, ft. their 500 yr divorce (๑´ `๑)
“Grand Vizier Mehr, right-hand of the sun; seated at the side of Al-Ahmar, King of the Desert…”
The Jinni drawls, voice as smooth as milk and honey, low and rich like the riverbed of the Ardravi. Solomon laid on his side. His head rested in his palm and his elbow dug into the softness of his bedroll as he grinned, smugly, without revealing his teeth. His cat’s smile.
“...After all these years, you are still no fun.”
Suddenly, Mehr’s eyes snap back open in the darkness of their shared tent. He can see her shifting in place. The blanket draped across her lithe frame wrinkles, then collects itself in a heap on the floor. She has turned to him now, resting slightly on the side of her elbow; looking down on him with that unreadable expression he had come to be deeply familiar with. From her lips his admonishment was returned.
“Son of the Water Lillies, Keeper of the Silver Signet Ring… most beloved Prince of Ay-Khanoum.” Her ears pin back, smooth against her ruffled sandy hair as she inches closer, leans farther in.
And her eyes, burning gold irises that seared into the pit of his stomach. “Solomon.”
So close was she now that her hair was touching his forehead. His hand twitches at his side, fighting a long-buried urge. And yet he says nothing, allows her to continue chastising him with his decorated titles and his past; their shared past, dead and crumbling into dust the same as their old, forgotten temples and grand cities. He could make out the outline of her mouth in the dark. Feel her breath on his skin. “I have not forgotten your true name.”
Devastating– a killing blow if he were to be honest in their little game of mental sparring. Of course she could not forget. From the first taunt he had thrown at her, he had managed to leave out her accolades as scribe and archivist. A mistake that would cost him. He had made a similar mistake, five hundred years ago, in a situation like this one, where they were close as two reeds intertwined in a woven basket.
Mehr’s expression softens when she hears the hitch of his breath at such a revelation. If only for a split second. It was those fractions in time that Solomon had grown experienced in catching, or else he would have no clue at all what she was thinking inside that head of hers. Her ears twitch minutely. The long, slender make of her tail swishes behind her, Solomon barely being able to make out the change in her silhouette from their proximity.
Another languid swish of her tail to the side. Mehr narrows her eyes, pupils changing to slits. A whisper that hissed through his bones.
“...After all these years, I still know you.”
His hand twitches again– he could not suppress it –the back of his knuckles brushing the warmth of her thigh. Still, he recognized her lips in the night. Still there was a fire that prickled beneath his flesh hot and uncomfortable, that made his blood boil in his veins and his emerald green irises dilate against the blackness of his sclera– still he recognized the motions of what he dreaded would be a kiss.
A last lash of her tail, and she was gone. Her heat vanishes into the frigid desert darkness. A few seconds more and she had returned to her own mat, tucked herself back underneath her blanket, back turned. As if nothing had happened. His nails dig into his palm. The Jinni blinks and a hundred words die cold on his tongue.
He could not believe it.
A scholar of Haravatat, one noticed by Lesser Lord Kusanali personally, had been left speechless. What else could he have done? He could not come up with anything that would match her tender barbs. There was nothing else to say. So through midnight in the Desert of Hadramaveth, there is a silence thick enough to hear the sifting of sand as it is blown by the wind outside.
