for this bonus round, the theme is competition! pretty open-ended, prompts that are about some sort of competition! this round will end on july 31st!
Fills can be in any format, and you can fill your teammates prompts, but you cannot fill your own prompt.
You can post as many fills and as many prompts as you want! To participate, reply to this Dreamwidth post!
for your prompt post title, please use the following format:
PROMPT: TEAM [TEAM NAME]
for your fill post title, please use the following format:
FILL: TEAM [TEAM NAME]
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Prompt: Team Anime/Manga
Date: 2024-07-17 04:17 am (UTC)FILL: Team Anime/Manga
Date: 2024-07-21 09:28 pm (UTC)“Winter?”
Winter recognises that voice. She turns around, breath caught in her throat, and there she is: Cinder Fall, eyes wide with disbelief and amusement, propped against the wall in the corridor like she belongs there.
“Cinder,” she says feebly, “you’re here too?”
Cinder rolls her shoulders, stepping forward. “Of course I’m here. I’m a courtier.” She narrows her eyes, blazing gold, “You’re a courtier too?”
“Of course,” Winter echoes, finding her footing. “I’m — I’m here for —”
She throws her hands up suddenly, exploding into motion. “I don’t care who you’re here for, I care that you’re here! What happened to the army, huh? What happened to staying the hell out of my way?”
Now, that, she knows how to respond to. Winter draws herself up, feeling for the familiar hilt of her sword. It’s always been an anchor, a guide, her future on the edge of a blade. “I’m doing my duty for my country,” she parrots, “and General Ironwood believes I’ll serve him best at Lady Marigold’s side.”
Cinder snorts. “So, what? You’re giving up the dream you gave up everything else for?”
“I’m not giving anything up,” Winter says defensively. “I knew what I was getting into and I accepted the job. Why are you here? Aren’t you doing the same thing?”
Cinder halts, then draws herself up too. It’s hard to forget they’ve had the same training in moments like these; hard to forget that they were spat out of the same academy not that long ago. “I’m seeking a greater foothold for my Lady,” she says haughtily, “because unlike you, I never bothered to delude myself with dreams of becoming a knight.”
“Hold on,” Winter says, hardly noticing the barb, “hold on, I am a knight. You forget — you come here and you think you can just — I am a knight. I’ve been a knight for years. I don’t have to dream because I’ve already —”
Cinder steps forward into her space, crosses half the corridor before Winter can even finish her sentence. Her eyes burn bright up close, warm and amber and deep. She used to love those eyes. Still does, maybe.
“And what good is a knight,” she says, voice low, “up here in this palace?”
There’s something there behind her words; a memory she’s trying to draw out, and it hits Winter all at once.
(Her body will always carry the memory of it, she thinks. You never forget how to hold a sword.)
//
Lady Marigold asks to see Winter in her rooms the day before the last ball of the season. She keeps her distance, as she has always done, standing shadowed against the light streaming in from the balcony, and her voice is soft as she tells Winter to leave.
“What?” Winter says hoarsely. “Why?”
May looks down her nose at her, arms folded over her chest. She looks every inch the girl Winter grew up with, every inch a stranger. “You don’t want to be here.”
She fumbles for the sword at her waist, draws it as she kneels, holds it out. It’s a clumsy display of loyalty, but it’s loyalty nonetheless. And loyalty is what May — Lady Marigold — needs to see, loyalty is what will keep here here —
“Don’t,” May says softly. “I’m not stupid, Winter. You’d do the General more good on the battlefield.”
It stings. Winter blinks, sure the ache in her chest is only the momentary pain of a blow. “I — if the Fall Maiden —”
“Cinder hasn’t said anything to me. I have eyes.”
That’s that, then.
//
Cinder shoulder-checks Winter as she passes by, as she always does, and then falters when Winter doesn’t push back. She spares her a glance that lingers, a glance that Winter feels through the back of her shirt, and when she opens her mouth to say something Winter heads her off.
“You won,” she says flatly, “I’m going home. Have fun at the ball.”
Cinder falters. Winter doesn’t turn to see her expression change. “Aw, but I was counting on you saving me a dance.”
“Counting on me for what?” she mutters.
A body presses up behind her. Winter stumbles forward as Cinder’s arms snake around her waist, pulling them together. Heat flushes up her spine, sends her spinning. “You’ve never gone down without a fight, have you?” Cinder murmurs in her ear. “You’ll have to show me what makes you so eligible.”