A/N: Written for the 500themes LiveJournal writing challenge community for the prompt 484 – The sands of time. (I think I'm finally establishing another strong OTP for myself, after it lingered on the sidelines for years.)
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Across the Sand
Bakura watches her struggle along, always from afar and never interfering – this blue-eyed white-haired girl who looks outlandish, though the appearances are deceiving (this he knows all too well). He also knows a kindred spirit when he sees one, and it is not a chance that has led them here together. It is not a chance which makes him approach her at last, but rather a carefully crafted choice, bred in his mind over time and crafted to nigh perfection. He stands before her, regal in his bearing, though no royal blood flows in his veins and his kingdom is nowhere, and she shrinks back, having learned to recognise danger when it's approaching. (She is as much a prisoner of this time as he is.)
Kisara glances at him and hastily turns her gaze away, wanting to run, but there is no place left for her to go to – she has been everywhere already and she has been chased away from there, from everywhere. There is only the open desert left in front of her, but Bakura's eyes tell her that he'll chase even there. The creature inside of her stirs, shifts, breaks free and… clashes with the one that has been hiding inside of him. His laughter rings through the air, resonating in her ears, and he issues a challenge which she doesn't accept. She is not used to being challenged so openly; she is only used to being chased. She isn't used to fighting for her life, only running for it. And therefore she runs again, chased by wind and will, and Bakura, and before long, she finds herself lost in the desert, sand dunes and harsh half-dead bushes her only guiding signs before they, too, disappear, and only wind and sand is left, and the sun beating down on her and her path into infinity.
The desert is beautiful – a myriad of colours; so many shades of one colour all in one place, from light yellow to bright orange and soft brown, but Kisara doesn't see this beauty. Wind is chasing sand around and it shifts under her feet. She should stop, find shelter to weather the blazing sun, but she cannot, for there is no place out here to hide. She cannot turn back either, because she has walked too far away from inhabited areas and he is still chasing her. If she were to go back, she would be walking right into that man's arms – something which she wants to avoid at all costs.
But time is running against her and the deceitful fields of sand simmer in the distance, the air suddenly visible in its movement, as it paints a picture of a water source. Kisara struggles toward it, but the mirage soon disappears and she sees only eternal sand again. How much longer before she starts wanting to be caught? Kisara wonders and her mind produces an answer instantly – years ago. She walks and walks, walks, until she cannot walk anymore. The sand shifts and sifts, chased by the wind, and finding that man's shadow falling over her brings a sigh of relief past her lips. She looks up, meets his gaze, and doesn't back away this time. The monsters residing inside of them are silent.