"He that can have patience can have what he will." -Benjamin Franklin
Practices in Patience
By Lynx Klaw
It was supposed to have been a dark and stormy night. The season was to have been bare and cool, the days shortening with nature's retreat. The full and radiant moon ought to have hung balefully in the chill air amongst the icy tapestry of glinting stars. Perchance a portentous intruder could have—ensconced in the dense murk—loomed over a maiden peacefully sleeping in her bed and bound her most nefariously. Then such a fiend might have held fast said maiden to the ill mercies of fate. Alas, none of these things was true.
It was broad daylight; the tranquil skies clear apart a cloud occasioning the cerulean expanse. Life eagerly sprung in the merry spring; the days abuzz with stirrings from all manner of creatures, the nights lush and shaking away the frosts of winter. The sun shone gloriously; warmed the golden-green earth and turquoise waters of the bay, gleamed against the windows of a titanic tower reminiscent of a Tetris block gone astray. Inside, the quite conscious maiden pinned to the floor the intrepid trespasser, straddled high with her hands sure as shackles forcing the prowler's wrists high above the head. Beside these two grapplers, now neglected, a satchel found respite; its meager contents consisting of liquid-smooth lengths of satin and a blindfold—both presently lacking susceptible prey.
"What in the black Hells do you think you're doing?"
This fair and stark beauty spoke with an ominous measure of venom. Her captive stared up at her in equal parts admiration and astonishment, fuchsia hues wide but fearless. This strangely absent facet had the merit of keeping the curious, blue-eyed maiden from sending her stalker from whence it came—out the window.
"I got impatient. Couldn't hold out any longer."
In this dark sanctuary, the namesake of a corvid creature furrowed her brows at the ineloquent admission. Maiden though she was, the dangerous compulsion of inquisitiveness gripped her with such quickness and resolution as it would a cat. What particular novelty crossed the magenta mercenary that she could not but blithely steal into the very room of Raven, the maiden couldn't hazard the vaguest conjecture.
"Impatient for what?"
Straining, the fiend lurched up, spine bowing with the lithe prowess to shame theatrical dancers. Free of the ground, her head dared close with the maiden's countenance. With brute audacity and innocent fervor, she shamelessly tasted the soft lips. The victimization grew long; the Demon struck dumb and doing naught but providing reckless invitation to a questing tongue. Someone rolled an erotic, rumbling purr from the back of her throat, but neither paid its origin any mind. The intruder relinquished the hostage mouth, parting from the pleasures of Raven's sweet flavor as well as her own breath. Slightly quickened hearts swung a heavy hammer at their breasts; the air pulled with gentle pants did little save draw in lungfuls of desire.
For many moments, their eyes held clandestine conversation, silently speaking of things too potent and exquisite for tongues. Sudden though it was, it could not be denied the sincere and dominating force of this passion. As they blinked, the spellbound maiden and mercenary felt the moment's heights of rapture settle into tamer plains of contentment. The maiden absently slipped off her day-lit prowler. Recovering posture, the foolhardy and villainous trespasser flashed Cheshire's delight to the pale and pretty maiden.
Out they marched from that sizable egress of the majuscule bastion fixed fast in the verdant hill as soundly as Excalibur had lain in stone. There the maiden sent off the intruder to the shore, where a raft floated, moored by rope at a nondescript boulder. Trailing after the maiden, a dark paladin squinted in bafflement.
"What the Hell was Jinx doing in the Tower?"
A wave rolled across the heroine's shoulders, though an almost negligible smile pulled the farthest corners of her lips. An azure gaze observed her stalker's escape with no small amount of nostalgia for the recent past. Finally, she riposted with a shake of her head.
"Attempting a seduction."
The flabbergasted leader floundered for words, but promptly resided. Surely, that was a difficult statement to surpass. When at last his mental facilities eased the impedance of his incredulity, he put forth the only pertinent query available to his taxed patience with the situation.
"...Did she succeed?"
The diminutive smile slipped partially crooked, and Raven's archetypal smirk presided once more. Her cape fluttered upon the about face for the return trip to her quarters. The maiden uttered a remarkably unanticipated verdict.
"No. But perhaps she might... if she can be patient."
Okay, so... short and sweet. This was more a self-challenge than anything. I wanted to do something different than my usual writing style and this little plot bunny hopped up to me. I ripped this one out in about 25 minutes and I've been letting it sit on my hard drive for the past couple days, looking at it and thinking about if I should change anything.
This was more about descriptors—adverbs, adjectives, similes, and metaphors—than anything else, honestly. I just wanted to see what would happen if I just jammed it full of them. When I actually sat down to write it, I wound up writing it in a Shakespeare-ish or E. A. Poe mood. I didn't go for all the typical language of those period times, but I wanted a resemblance there. In the end, I got a bunch of modern text and twisted it into an older feel... I crunched about as many descriptors as I could into this sucker, so I apologize for those reading with a thesaurus and a dictionary who are probably cursing me for making them think while enjoying shoujo-ai. Heh.
I'm happy with where this tiny little thing sits; it's about two pages not including this author's note; the total, not including quote and title, comes to 765 words. Not bad for a drabble... Well, I hope you enjoyed reading this ficlet as much as I enjoyed typing it out. Now back to your regular programming!