storypaint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storypaint) wrote2009-09-22 08:03 am
storypaint) wrote2009-09-22 08:03 am
Entry tags:
Chill (Doumeki gen)
Title: Chill
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Length: 196 words
Prompt:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
writing_game Week 64: C+1, Chill
Pairing: Doumeki gen
Other: Spoilers for ch186.
Excerpt: He watched and he protected when he saw the need. But there was nothing here for his bow.
Watanuki was cold now.
Doumeki rarely articulated his worries about anything. He watched and he protected when he saw the need. But there was nothing here for his bow. There was only Watanuki as he picked up more of the witch's mannerisms, as he slept away the day, as the glimmer of opium hid the things that Doumeki used to see from that eye. Or maybe there was nothing to see anymore.
Doumeki had respected Yuuko, and he'd even liked her. But that didn't mean that he wanted Watanuki to become her. That wasn't fair to her memory or to Watanuki himself.
"No change," Mokona sighed, every day, and sometimes Doumeki wanted to smash the egg he still carried, the one he still had hopes for, because the witch never did anything without reason.
Mokona said he hadn't missed his chance. But he was watching Watanuki slip away every day. He still cooked, he still wore Himawari's apron, but even the way he moved had changed, smoothed out, slid into different mannerisms.
Doumeki came over every day regardless. He'd made his decisions long ago. He'd wait for the ice to melt.
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Length: 196 words
Prompt:
writing_game Week 64: C+1, ChillPairing: Doumeki gen
Other: Spoilers for ch186.
Excerpt: He watched and he protected when he saw the need. But there was nothing here for his bow.
Watanuki was cold now.
Doumeki rarely articulated his worries about anything. He watched and he protected when he saw the need. But there was nothing here for his bow. There was only Watanuki as he picked up more of the witch's mannerisms, as he slept away the day, as the glimmer of opium hid the things that Doumeki used to see from that eye. Or maybe there was nothing to see anymore.
Doumeki had respected Yuuko, and he'd even liked her. But that didn't mean that he wanted Watanuki to become her. That wasn't fair to her memory or to Watanuki himself.
"No change," Mokona sighed, every day, and sometimes Doumeki wanted to smash the egg he still carried, the one he still had hopes for, because the witch never did anything without reason.
Mokona said he hadn't missed his chance. But he was watching Watanuki slip away every day. He still cooked, he still wore Himawari's apron, but even the way he moved had changed, smoothed out, slid into different mannerisms.
Doumeki came over every day regardless. He'd made his decisions long ago. He'd wait for the ice to melt.