extra tags: implied violence, blood, spies au??? unclear
//
“Sorry,” Cinder says flatly, sounding not particularly sorry at all. “You should have known when I gave you the catchfly.” A smile twists up the blood-smeared corners of her mouth, and Winter isn’t at all ashamed to say that it makes her look devastatingly attractive. “I was proud of that. Not very subtle of me, right? You could have taken the warning and run.”
Winter spits blood onto the floor. “But where would the fun be in that?”
She tilts her head to the side, considering. “True enough.”
I was giving you an out lingers between them, unspoken. As much as this sucks, Winter can’t say she hasn’t enjoyed the chase, the thrill. She tugs ineffectually at her cuffs, looking for weak points she knows she won’t find. Cinder is thorough and very, very smart. “Do you regret any of it?”
It’s meant as an off-handed comment, but it bites her tongue regardless, fills her mouth with the taste of her own blood all over again. She doesn’t know if she wants the answer.
Cinder’s head tilts to the other side, fixing on the wall just above her head. It’s an old habit of hers; a way of brushing aside her own guilt. “You don’t know anything about flowers, do you?”
Winter shakes her head. The room spins.
She raises a hand, ticking words off on her fingers. “I gave you a catchfly. Pretended love —” and here her mouth flicks up again, sarcastic, self-deprecating, “a snare, ‘I am thy prisoner’. Oh, don’t look at me like that. Two out of three isn’t bad.”
“I never intended to make you feel — caught,” Winter begins haltingly, staring determinedly down at the floor again, but Cinder’s laugh cuts her off.
“Being in love with your target tends to have that effect.”
She swallows thickly. The taste of blood on her tongue becomes a caress; familiarity. They’ve sparred before, and it’s always ended like this — Winter kneeling, licking blood off her teeth; Cinder above her, licking blood off her fingers. “I do love you too, if you were wondering. Nothing about that was ever fake. I contemplated quitting my job more than once.”
“So why didn’t you?”
Interestingly enough, the air chills. For someone who has always burned so hot, Cinder has always been good at being cold. Winter tilts her head down, back to the floor, acquiescing. “How do you tell the person you love you’ve been sent to kill them?”
There’s no warmth to her voice when she replies, no heat. “You don’t. You give up and move on.”
“You knew, though,” she challenges, “you singled me out because you had my file from the start. We both did.”
Cinder’s hand tightens around the sword at her side, fingers trembling. “I would have quit. I would have done it if you asked me to.”
Winter stares at her shoes, at her blood on the floor. So why didn’t you? goes unsaid: so why wasn’t it worth giving it all up for me?
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FILL: Team Anime/Manga
Date: 2024-06-29 10:00 pm (UTC)word count: 500
pairing: winter schnee/cinder fall
fandom: RWBY
characters: winter schnee, cinder fall
extra tags: implied violence, blood, spies au??? unclear
//
“Sorry,” Cinder says flatly, sounding not particularly sorry at all. “You should have known when I gave you the catchfly.” A smile twists up the blood-smeared corners of her mouth, and Winter isn’t at all ashamed to say that it makes her look devastatingly attractive. “I was proud of that. Not very subtle of me, right? You could have taken the warning and run.”
Winter spits blood onto the floor. “But where would the fun be in that?”
She tilts her head to the side, considering. “True enough.”
I was giving you an out lingers between them, unspoken. As much as this sucks, Winter can’t say she hasn’t enjoyed the chase, the thrill. She tugs ineffectually at her cuffs, looking for weak points she knows she won’t find. Cinder is thorough and very, very smart. “Do you regret any of it?”
It’s meant as an off-handed comment, but it bites her tongue regardless, fills her mouth with the taste of her own blood all over again. She doesn’t know if she wants the answer.
Cinder’s head tilts to the other side, fixing on the wall just above her head. It’s an old habit of hers; a way of brushing aside her own guilt. “You don’t know anything about flowers, do you?”
Winter shakes her head. The room spins.
She raises a hand, ticking words off on her fingers. “I gave you a catchfly. Pretended love —” and here her mouth flicks up again, sarcastic, self-deprecating, “a snare, ‘I am thy prisoner’. Oh, don’t look at me like that. Two out of three isn’t bad.”
“I never intended to make you feel — caught,” Winter begins haltingly, staring determinedly down at the floor again, but Cinder’s laugh cuts her off.
“Being in love with your target tends to have that effect.”
She swallows thickly. The taste of blood on her tongue becomes a caress; familiarity. They’ve sparred before, and it’s always ended like this — Winter kneeling, licking blood off her teeth; Cinder above her, licking blood off her fingers. “I do love you too, if you were wondering. Nothing about that was ever fake. I contemplated quitting my job more than once.”
“So why didn’t you?”
Interestingly enough, the air chills. For someone who has always burned so hot, Cinder has always been good at being cold. Winter tilts her head down, back to the floor, acquiescing. “How do you tell the person you love you’ve been sent to kill them?”
There’s no warmth to her voice when she replies, no heat. “You don’t. You give up and move on.”
“You knew, though,” she challenges, “you singled me out because you had my file from the start. We both did.”
Cinder’s hand tightens around the sword at her side, fingers trembling. “I would have quit. I would have done it if you asked me to.”
Winter stares at her shoes, at her blood on the floor. So why didn’t you? goes unsaid: so why wasn’t it worth giving it all up for me?