YURI SHIPPING OLYMPICS 2024 - BONUS ROUND 7

[a1c0bb]

For this round, we want to see prompts that are based on settings or locations! For your prompts, please provide a location or setting. It can be as specific or as abstract as you want, and can be in any medium you prefer!

POINTS - BONUS ROUNDS
For prompts: 10 points each (maximum of 150 prompt points per team per round)
For fills:
First 4 fills by any member of your team: 100 points each
Fills 5-10: 50 points each
Fills 11-20: 40 points each
Fills 21-50: 30 points each
Fills 51+: 25 points each

Comments

FILL: Team Anime/Manga

[hopelessgemini]

“The sunset over the tundra is beautiful,” Winter says once, “you have to see it,” and so Cinder lets her drag her up onto the roof and watches the sky sink into deeper and deeper blue with the love of her life.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to be looking at,” she admits later, when the darkness has properly set in. Winter is lying on her back next to her, arms folded behind her head. It’s the most peaceful Cinder thinks she’s ever seen her look. She smiles once, small.

“The stars. Haven’t you ever seen the stars, Cinder?”

Cinder turns to look up with her, determined not to think about her face falling when she says, “Too much light pollution.”

That’s partially true. There was also that stretch of three or four years where she didn’t see the sky at all, but she chooses not to mention that.

Something brushes against her knee, Winter’s fingers skimming over the hem of her skirt, as though determined to touch her but afraid to reach out. “I’ll show you, then,” she says, soft, and Cinder has never wanted anything more.

//

The view from the window is incredible. Cinder sits in the shadow of the moon and counts the stars as she waits for Neo to come back, mumbling half-buried recollections of names under her breath. She hasn’t looked for the constellations Winter showed her in a long, long time, not since she was still so weak as to need comforting.

(Their last day together was spent on the highest roof they could find. Winter slipped her hand into Cinder’s — the hand that burned away — and said, “I think I’d like to do this with you forever,” and that was the only time Cinder heard anything close to childlike wonder in her voice.)

The General is enamoured with the stars too, it seems. From what Winter told her, at least. She tries to imagine him — stern, unforgiving General Ironwood — inviting Winter into his office to look at his star maps and finds she can’t quite see it. She never did like him.

//

“They’re calling it a lake now,” Cinder says. Winter curls her fingers around the hook of her prosthetic and tries her best not to picture Atlas as it was.

//

The stars don’t change, though. They lie in the snow together, long past the point where the temperature affects them anymore, and count the constellations. Cinder says she missed it; Cinder says she used to look for the stars Winter liked when she felt desperately, achingly alone. Winter doesn’t say anything at all.