pullmeoutalive | Of Princesses, Dragons, and Conquest

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Of Princesses, Dragons, and Conquest

[ she's no stranger to the idea. In times of war and strife, the heads of factions would most certainly not remain idle. Takane had known, and yet, she would have expected someone responsible for Oshu's well-being not to go about making idiotically reckless moves. And perhaps any other girl would be able to set it aside, realizing that for all of his bravado and skill and experience, Masamune was only nineteen.

But for someone who behaved far more responsibly than people twice her age, that wasn't an acceptable excuse. Any opposition wouldn't have seen it as one.

And truthfully, Takane's not fond of how it felt, knowing he'd risked himself to the point of being bed-bound for days, that he should have known better, that her chest squeezed - aching and sharp - whenever she went in to change bandages and exchange cool cloths, that she'd felt so helpless. Kojuro has probably already lectured him, but she's not the type to remain silent when she has things of her own to say.

Masamune should be mobile today. She's carrying a bucket of water to one of the vegetable gardens before she abruptly changes her course to seek him out.

At which point she will oh so subtly block his path. ]

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[ now "remove your helmet" wasn't really a request he was expecting, especially with the way the prior sentence was leading. all he understood was that she had, perhaps, both received and acknowledged his apology. that was one thing.

the other?

where was takane going with this?

but he does nothing more than toss her a bit of a quizzical look before quietly removing his helmet in response, laying it down beside himself. ]

[ she's grateful that Masamune generally isn't the sort to ask WHY of her requests - as though she hasn't had people baffled at her choices and actions - because that makes this easier.

Slightly.

The truth of the matter is that Takane's hugging experience has been limited to her fellow idols, the ones who had known affection and physical contact, the ones with siblings and best friends and sweet-natured enthusiasm. While she'd grown accustomed to the moments where they'd drag her into embraces, the amount of times she'd initiated such a thing could have been counted on one hand.

But she moves now, unwavering (because it's awkward and it's bound to be uncomfortable, but Takane never hesitates), and it occurs to her that this is nothing like hugging Hibiki or the Futami twins, but the thought slips in while her arms are already wrapping around him in as unobtrusive a hug as possible. ]

[ . . . ah. so that's what she was doing.

to say contact was foreign to masamune would be false, but also true--he's not unfamiliar with people in his space, because ultimately that's where people placed themselves while fighting. pats on the shoulder? occasionally. an assisted walk. a lean of support.

this isn't anything like that.

he can't quite recall the last time he's ever gotten a hug. he never even fathomed receiving one from takane, who he imagined as quite similar to himself in the mindset of "implied words and actions were stronger than the more direct displays of affection".

he's half-amused, half-confused, half-thinking she smells nice, maybe, before he lets out a couple of words-- ]

Heh. Telling me to take my helmet off was the bold move?

[ it's calm. ]

[ her reply is equally composed, though of course inwardly is an entirely different story, where she's wondering if her initial suspicion was correct, that regardless of how much his men seemed to believe hugs from the fairer sex would help, it really had nothing to do with comfort-- ]

You hold no obligation towards me, least of all an act akin to disarming yourself.

[ and Takane starts to draw back, uncertain if she even did this properly. ]

[ and in a strange moment of impulse, in one of those moments where masamune's body just kind of acted in accordance to what he wanted before his mind even catches up--

-- in that moment, he catches takane's wrist. he's not really sure what he's saying, though, or what he's doing… but. ]

I got it.

[ --wait, why is he holding her wrist again. ]

[ she doesn't flinch or startle, but from the way her fingers involuntarily flex and the quick blink of her eyes from her wrist to his face, it's clear Takane wasn't expecting that. It's her usual soft tone that answers him, colored by perplexity. ]

Oh?

[ got what? Understanding? Her hand?

... Why? ]

[ ah, he was doing things again. he's caught her off-guard; were it any other time he might feel a bit smug that he got oshu's ojousama, but maybe it's appropriate that the one time he catches her off-guard is the one time he catches himself off-guard.

... but. but?

he almost sighs. ]

Guess it's better to say you got me.

[ that's simultaneously concerning and off-putting, and while Takane's grasping for something to say in response that won't indicate how truly surprised she is by that answer, her eyes fully settle on his hand.

... No, she thinks, maybe there had been merit to the men's idea after all. In that case, it was give and take, wasn't it? He'd lowered his guard, but she'd had to drop hers first. This feels a little more natural, the way her wrist turns seamlessly in his grip - he's left her enough room - and her fingers slide against his. Not quite as intimate as an embrace, but for her, it's more than she'd generally offer. ]

That is quite the feat.

[ unexpected, she doesn't add. He already knows he's startled her. ]

[ wow, he's scored.

--ah, no, this isn't teddie. but really, the movement in his hand is yet another surprising thing; it's a new dynamic to their frequent heart-to-hearts. he doesn't need to look at her eyes to know he's probably getting more than she's ever shown.

they're in the same situation.

he doesn't squeeze, but there is a slight movement of his hand that indicates he doesn't reject that gesture. quite the opposite, actually. ]

I can say the same on my side too, yeah?

[ it's different, she reflects, vaguely amused for the simplicity of the thought. But holding his hand is different, his palms larger, his fingers rougher, the gesture itself making her much more aware of him.

... Which is strange, but her voice is smooth enough, and her thoughts seem to have assembled themselves properly. ]

Your original sentiment... is not unreturned.

[ he kind of pulls her closer--maybe this is by accident, but the fact that the distance crossed does not create contact seems to imply that it was, indeed, on purpose. and he'd fully admit it.

no smirk, no cockiness, but there's a sort of atmosphere there that implies the same kind of comfort. ]

Guess I'm screwed. [ but he can, of course, still add in that one joke. ]

[ he pulls-- and normally, she pushes back, but this time, Takane allows for the subtle tug to draw her closer, making it all too clear by the lift of her chin and the directness of her gaze that she is knowingly allowing this.

Her eyes take on a trace of confusion however, and she tilts her head. ]

Is it such a condemnation?

[ . . . shijou.

he pauses for a second, taking in the fact that she was allowing his advances; she had flowed alongside him for a while now, but this was a very different kind of current.

not one he would expect her to allow, but she was and that's what it was.

still, even that moment of trust doesn't save a bit of a chuckle for a response from takane's confusion. ]

Huh... What do you think? [ it's obvious it's not, which is why he relays the question to her anyway. ]

[ she had perhaps given more thought to the statement than she ought to, as it's her turn to pause when he voices the question. This one she understands, that chuckle, and truthfully, she's relieved that she can still read his subtleties and nuances in the midst of something that's at once unfamiliar and yet so natural.

They've always responded to each other, generally in gestures, after all. Two tones, his and hers, where neither was drowned out in favor of the other. A natural rhythm that didn't quite conflict so much as it drew those possible conflicts into a lively harmony instead.

Takane's mind rings of music until she answers him, easing forward and still not quite touching. ]

Were you to dislike something, you tend to harbor no qualms about making those around you aware of it.

[ there's more movement. masamune stays steady--there's a way to this, after all, and he lets takane set the pace for what she wants to do. she had let him have the first move, so, in respect of their equilibrium, it was only right he let her have her own.

the answer is correct, as it was prone to be; he would expect nothing else. how long had they done this, really? though from the start he had to admit there was just a click and it worked, somehow. like sanada yukimura, but different. like kojuro, but different.

this time he just laughs. ]

That's it.

[ there's both appreciation and trepidation there, when he stays still. She does understand the implication there, that he's pulled her, and she's moved on her own accord, not simply through his own will. He's waiting, and she knows it's not his specialty, which makes Takane think that, truly, this is the situation that requires the most care of all.

She steps again, and now she stops. Close enough to touch with the slightest movement, however accidental, but she lifts an eyebrow. His turn.

... Takane laughs, though. She can't help it. ]

Your choice of earlier wording is rather unique then, Date Masamune.

[ his move. it's like an organized battle, really, except there's a different rush here than on a battlefield. this time he does move her forward just the slightest; this is intentional, but with how subtle it was it might seem like a mere mistake.

she's close, but he's not quite holding her.

completely screwed. ]

Look who you're talking to. [ unique. he does that a fair bit. ] Let's hear what you would've said, Shijou Takane.

In substitution of your condemnation?

[ she's quiet for a moment, taking his words and running them through her mind, translating it through her own comprehension and rewording it.

But what she says isn't what she concludes. ]

I can no more speak for you than the moon could fail to rise. If I were to speak of the topic, however...

[ another pause, and there's quite the natural pull to him now, one she concedes to with lifted chin. She rests her free hand on the crook of his arm, just above his elbow.

Contact. ]

I do not consider myself ensnared.

[ it's perhaps an odd statement, but her meaning is clear enough to her. It's not being trapped, doomed, screwed, caged, if it's something she wants. ]

Heh.

[ he gets it, like he always does. her touch is very rare, but it's not strange; masamune's not surprised by that, of course--there would be something wrong if he was. maybe there's a relief, even if he'd known--

( it's a hold now, an arm around her waist--something new. ) ]

Don't think we'd be able to tie you down, either way.

[ --takane wouldn't be here if she didn't want to be. ]

[ it's the foreign/familiarity that ultimately puzzles her, makes her want to temporarily withdraw into the back of her mind to understand why, why she's comfortable with his arm there, when they rarely touch.

But it's not so much the touch as it is Masamune, and what's associated with him grants her the same level of comfort. Her fingers flex on his arm, gently sliding towards a shoulder. ]

Would you desire such a thing?

[ and then they dance!!

but no, not quite. masamune doesn't make much moves now ( there's only so much closer he can bring her, after all ), all is still but the arm that holds her, which just slightly shifts.

her touch is very distracting. ]

Nah. [ it's a quiet denial, an honest one-- ] That ain't how we are.

[ her own movement slows once her hand reaches his shoulder, curves subtly towards his neck.

And she smiles, pensive but trusting. ]

How are we, Date Masamune?

[ the touch is almost like an anchor; a bit heavier than what he would've expected it to be, but takane always had a way of grounding him.

( questionable choice of words that kojuro would most likely raise an eyebrow at. )

it pushes him forward, his face a little closer. ]

You want it in words?

[ an intriguing question, and a sense of amusement that he's 'offering' the choice. Though she'll interpret it more as we both already know it anyway.

She remains still now, eyes locked on his single one, and there's that inexorable pull of his. Of course; it never ceased. ]

I believe you comprehend what sort of response would suit you best.

Dangerous choice, leaving that call to a dragon.

[ . . . though it's not, really. it's just another way to play along, and he doesn't push her but only moves to meet her. all cocky grins are dropped, and suddenly there's a moment where he things and maybe--

-- before he realizes it, he's kissed her. ]

Of Princesses, Dragons, and Conquest

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