“Cause a distraction,” Winter hisses, gripping onto the hem of her sleeve.
Cinder scowls back at her, fighting the urge to yank it back. “Why?”
“Because they,” she nods towards the balcony — Cinder doesn’t follow her gaze, because she’s feeling particularly spiteful — “want to see what we’re going to do next, and I need them to follow us. You can butcher them all you want once I’ve got what I need out of them.”
She grits her teeth. She did promise to be less of a pain when Winter was on missions, but still. This was supposed to be a normal night out. Winter wasn’t supposed to even be here in the first place.
Clenching her jaw so hard she’s sure it’ll be stuck like that for years to come, she tugs herself out of Winter’s grip and shouts, “We’ve been married five years, and you’re just telling me this now?”
Winter’s eyes widen — surprise, maybe? It doesn’t matter. It’s barely an instant; the mask is back down before she can categorise it. She tilts her chin up. “I didn’t think it was necessary.”
That’s not how normal people talk, Cinder thinks, but that matters even less. “What do you mean, not necessary? It’s our fucking marriage!”
That’s got eyes on them. It’s a relief she’s used to having the focus of an entire room on her, even when it’s like this. Winter glances around them and up to the balcony, where the shadows are shifting too fast for Cinder to keep track of them, and stage-whispers, “Can we do this somewhere else?”
“You’re the one who decided to tell me about your crippling debt in the middle of a public ball,” Cinder argues, but it’s too late, and her hand is on her sleeve again, tugging her directly through the crowd.
FILL: Team Anime/Manga
pairing: winter/cinder
fandom: RWBY
characters: winter schnee, cinder fall
word count: 302
extra tags: spy x family au if you squint
//
“Cause a distraction,” Winter hisses, gripping onto the hem of her sleeve.
Cinder scowls back at her, fighting the urge to yank it back. “Why?”
“Because they,” she nods towards the balcony — Cinder doesn’t follow her gaze, because she’s feeling particularly spiteful — “want to see what we’re going to do next, and I need them to follow us. You can butcher them all you want once I’ve got what I need out of them.”
She grits her teeth. She did promise to be less of a pain when Winter was on missions, but still. This was supposed to be a normal night out. Winter wasn’t supposed to even be here in the first place.
Clenching her jaw so hard she’s sure it’ll be stuck like that for years to come, she tugs herself out of Winter’s grip and shouts, “We’ve been married five years, and you’re just telling me this now?”
Winter’s eyes widen — surprise, maybe? It doesn’t matter. It’s barely an instant; the mask is back down before she can categorise it. She tilts her chin up. “I didn’t think it was necessary.”
That’s not how normal people talk, Cinder thinks, but that matters even less. “What do you mean, not necessary? It’s our fucking marriage!”
That’s got eyes on them. It’s a relief she’s used to having the focus of an entire room on her, even when it’s like this. Winter glances around them and up to the balcony, where the shadows are shifting too fast for Cinder to keep track of them, and stage-whispers, “Can we do this somewhere else?”
“You’re the one who decided to tell me about your crippling debt in the middle of a public ball,” Cinder argues, but it’s too late, and her hand is on her sleeve again, tugging her directly through the crowd.