Sunday, September 28, 2008

A Love That Is Mine 7

Strike Witches-fanfic. Eila fell head over heels in love with a certain someone at first sight.
Seventh part in a series of short stories.
(Eila/Sanya)


Read A Love That Is Mine 7





Disclaimer: All things Strike Witches belong to Gonzo and a bunch of others, though I’m sure I’m not hurting anything by borrowing them for a bit.

This is the seventh part in the “A Love That Is Mine”-series.



A Love That Is Mine 7
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by Carola “Ryûchan” Eriksson





I will not call you my first love.

I will call you this because to say that you are first implies that there will someday be another, and there never could be. Yes, I know we are young, you more so than I, and that logic would say that our chances to last are incredibly slim even if our circumstances were more normal.

Well logic has nothing to do with it and we are anything but.

I wasn’t always like this though. Before I met you and before I joined the squadron, I always thought myself a complete person in myself. I was the pride of the Suomus air force, the one that was strongest and had the highest success ratio, and if I was alone it did not seem too strange to me, those around me just could not keep up or adjust to my pace.

Ever since I met you I have been made increasingly aware that what I thought of as whole before is nothing of the sort. Although I can live and function just fine on my own, I am but a me-shaped half that needs to be united with a you to be whole, complete. It isn’t that long ago, yet I can’t remember anymore what my reason for living was, before you.

Everything was made new, made different, the day you came.

I’ve done quite a lot in my life you know, seen and experienced many really amazing and beautiful things. I have seen the world covered in gleaming white frost as thick as the width of my hand during the first rays of morning light up north, and I have heard the cracking ice sing in early spring. I have flown through the aurora borealis, the air crackling around me and ribbons of coloured light twisting across the skies like serpents. I have even flown through one of the greater thunderstorms of recent years, up through and above clouds so violently and rapidly erupting in blue arcs of power that not even my shields would have been enough if my special ability had failed to guide me through.

Yet I had never seen anything so beautiful as when you turned towards me and our eyes met. Breathless I fell into those brilliantly green eyes and I am falling still, I will never return from this world of only you.

If asked I couldn’t say how or why, but I know that I must have completely ignored the welcoming speeches of our superior officers to just materialise in front of you the way I did, holding your hand and dazedly introducing myself as if we were the only ones there. At least your reaction was similar, you surrendered your slender hand into mine and left it there, shyly whispering your name in that sweet soft voice of yours while appearing to stare as deeply into my eyes as I did into yours.

From what I was told later it took several not at all discrete attempts to get us break out of this mutual spell we were under and step apart, allowing for the introductions to continue. You remained fairly close by my side during it, and when certain of our more boisterous team-mates attempted one of their usual playful advances towards you I chased them off with a bit more fervour and anger than strictly necessary.

I was declared your protector right then, mere hours after our first meeting, and it was made my responsibility to take care of you and make sure you made yourself at home at our base. It was an assignment I took on most gladly, I doubt I would have left your side then even if you had been supposed to go with someone else, and from the way I found you clutching the edge of my uniform jacket when you thought I was going to leave I would say the sentiment was mutual.

Oh how much ribbing I took from our friends back then, for my obvious infatuation and my generally goofy behaviour around you. The favourite trick played on me at the time was to get me riled up enough to start ranting about you, and then someone would look over my shoulder and pretend to greet you. I fell for that every single time.

Thankfully the sight of the two of us together soon became common enough a thing that other amusement was found, and newer recruits to our squadron were focused on instead. We were allowed to simply grow together in peace for a while.

Then a special event came, one that had our superiors rather agitated but that it turned out we could not avoid; a formal event where a number of military men high up in the hierarchy of the joint forces were to visit the base along with their aides. The technical aspect would have been troublesome enough for the squadron, and while that part did not involve you or I as we were on night duty our friends were kind enough to make sure we knew what an annoyance it had been afterwards.

The real problem the way our team-mates saw it was the formal dinner and dancing that was being forced upon us despite the strenuous protests of our leaders. I suspect that for those that were opposed to our squadron it was an excellent opportunity to attempt to humiliate us, to say that as we are female and young we should be grateful and eager to provide entertainment for the men that were the true soldiers of this war. For those more benign to our existence the request was undoubtedly perceived as harmless, as a bit of fun on our part as well as theirs, and so there was no getting out of it.

One of the reasons we are such a successful squadron, aside from the number of unusual and incredibly strong abilities present, is that we have a commanding officer that while deceptively sweet and agreeable on the surface is a very shrewd and cunning woman. She ordered us to arrive at the dinner in full dress uniform with all the paraphernalia.

Finding themselves seated next to straight-backed and stern-looking soldiers in the kind of uniform to make them feel underdressed, with scarcely a trace of daintiness in sight if anyone could see beyond the shine of all those medals on display, the soldiers we were seated with were just too uncomfortable to make much attempt at conversation. You were the only one among us to wear a dress, simply because you did not have any official dress uniform and what you wore was what had come to be regarded as your version of a uniform. You were just too cute to be safe among all those ogling men, thankfully though our superior officers had convincingly argued to put the two youngest of our squadron wedged in between themselves, thus keeping you at a safe distance from any unwanted attention during dinner.

As for myself I was seated with a young man who took one long look at me and then steadfastly did not look up from his plate. He greeted me as I sat down, pulling out my own chair thank you, and then never spoke to me again. I could not blame him for being intimidated by me, I wore my dress uniform cut and pressed to perfect crispness, and though I have less medals and other bells and whistles than our resident aces, I still have an impressive collection upon my chest, all polished to a blinding shine. His own decorations were quite modest and drab by comparison, and wisely he opted not to make a nuisance out of himself.

With the dinner being such a strained and subdued affair it was no wonder that when the music started and the dancing was supposed to begin, there was uncomfortable shuffling but no real movement. Well, I was all dressed up to kill and polished to shine, I was not about to let this opportunity pass me by.

Back straight and chin high I marched up to you, clicked the heels of my polished boots and bowed, doing my level best to be absolutely dazzling as I asked you for a dance. You blushed so prettily when you said yes, and I could not have cared less who watched as I took your hand and we moved across the floor in a waltz.

I’m told our friends took our cue, getting up to dance with one another and that way thwarting any unwanted attention from our guests, but at the time I noticed none of that. We danced without stopping until the music at last died down, and a couple of fellow soldiers of Suomus came up to us to slap my back and exchange a few words in greeting before leaving the base.

That night we shared a bed for the first time.

How shy and awkward we were, and how I struggled not to stare at your beautiful pale skin as you undressed. It seems so silly now, how the mere act of going to sleep together was a big deal for us then, although I am grateful that after an evening of holding you in my arms I was not prepared to let you go for such a trivial reason as sleep. Who knows when I would have worked up the courage to invite you to sleep in my arms otherwise.

We both came up with all kinds of excuses or reasons to sleep together as often as we could from that moment on. It became a more and more frequent thing, to wake up to find you having crawled into bed with me, and finally we gave up pretending the night after we saw one of our leaders hospitalised. It had been a trying and unsettling day, and there was just no energy left for pretences. I invited you to stay the night permanently, and you happily accepted before fitting yourself so perfectly into my arms, all warm and soft and sweet like my precious personal version of heaven.

You brought with you your black pillow and your favourite cuddly toy, yet neither ever made it into bed with us as you needed neither another pillow nor something to cuddle with when you slept in my arms, your head on my shoulder and our arms wrapped around one another.

In the tumultuous few days that followed before our squadron was forcibly disbanded, we shared our first kiss.

The only thing really surprising about it I suppose was the fact that it had taken us so long to get to that point, but then again our... courtship, if I might consider it that, has been a slow and steadily building thing. Why would I ever not want to take my time with you?

Our first kiss happened in bed, we had retired for the night yet neither of us were ready to sleep just yet. I was leaning over you, supported on one arm with the other wrapped around you, while you held onto me with one hand gently caressing my face. Our kiss was long, slow and tender, and very much a mutual thing. Passion would come later, and kisses so intense they sent my world reeling and toes curling, but for that night it was all tenderness, complete and perfect.

A few days later the base that had been home to us lay in ruins and our team was sent scattering to the winds.

You had no home to return to, your country still occupied and ravaged by the enemy and the location of your parents still unknown to us. Who knows where those in charge would have carted you off to if they had been given the chance to?

We did not give them that chance. We belong together you and I, and so of course I brought you with me when I was sent back home. It is a good home, you’ll see, and I’m sure you will come to like it here. We will share it and it will be just ours.

Our home.

While I can’t promise you that the hard times are over or that we will get to grow old together, there is one thing I can swear to you, a truth I know above all else in this world:

I am yours, and I will love you forever.



Friday, September 26, 2008

A Love That Is Mine 6

Strike Witches-fanfic. Mio on the subject of the heart, the past, and of secrets.
Sixth part in a series of short stories.
(Mio/Yoshika)


Read A Love That Is Mine 6





Disclaimer: All things Strike Witches belong to Gonzo and a bunch of others, though I’m sure I’m not hurting anything by borrowing them for a bit.

This is the sixth part in the “A Love That Is Mine”-series. Also be aware that I am making absolutely everything about Mio up as I go along, if there is an official story out there (and there probably is) I have no clue about it.




A Love That Is Mine 6
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by Carola “Ryûchan” Eriksson





I have loved you for years, long before I ever met you.

I know it is a strange thing to say, and I doubt you or even my oldest and closest friends would understand. It is none the less the simple truth.

Few of our peers have realized this, perhaps due to the fact that I am ultimately not our commanding officer, but I have been with the Striker project from the beginning. When I was recruited as a child we were a few years away from a working prototype, and every single scrap of data from that moment on and until the first completed unit was deployed in combat all came from me.

During these years I of course was in constant and close contact with the creator of the Striker, and while I would not say that he raised me, for in essence I was raised by a number of combat instructors, he was still my mentor and my best friend growing up. A strange thing for sure, he was a grown man and I but a little girl then, but all the same he was my best friend.

We spoke of many things, the professor and I, and I am sure he influenced the way I think more than I am aware of. My favourite part of our conversations back then were when he spoke of his daughter, and encouraged by me he spoke of her often.

It must have been the warmth and love with which he spoke that influenced me or the vivid way he would describe his child, but before too long I loved her as well even though we had never met. I was a child and it was a child’s love, and so romance did not play into it, but it did make you infinitely important to me even from that young age.

The professor left his legacy with me for safekeeping. He always intended for a pair of Strikers to come into your possession, not for combat as he like any parent of course wished that the war would be over before you would be old enough to don them, but he wanted to give you the gift of flight. I don’t think I shall tell you given what became of your unit, but there was a secret behind your Strikers and mine.

The Strikers I use are the first completed and perfected prototype, custom made in every little detail to my specifications, which is why they can be difficult for others to use. Yours were the ultimate version created from the base of my unit, made especially with you in mind and to be used by no one else. Everyone else wears units that while all of them just slightly different from one another, slightly tweaked to their users if you will, are still a basic mass-produced model. Were magic ability more common even those small differences would be erased in favour of a standard unit that could be produced in large numbers and would be easily interchangeable for their wearers, even though this would make them less effective and powerful. Never so however, for yours and mine.

While it saddens me that we will never know what the professor’s final, perfect unit built by his own hands was capable of, at least I know it could not have seen a better or more worthy end. A hive destroyed and a country freed... you have exceeded even my expectations of you already, and I always thought you were meant for great things.

I had guarded that unit for some time, waiting for the moment I would be able to hand them over to you, their rightful owner. The professor trusted me to find a way to do it, so once you were old enough to be recruited I managed to convince my superiors to allow me to go find you. I had decided on my way to Fuso that if I found that your ability was anything less than top level, I would leave you there and not risk your life by bringing you back to the frontline with me. Of course you proved that you were even stronger than I thought you might be, and your father’s last gift to you found its way into your hands in the middle of combat.

Where once my affection for you was a childish thing, in as much as I have ever had the chance for anything childlike, it began changing once you came into my life. You are a constant source of pride and joy for me, and you are the kind of person that is surprisingly easy to let inside one’s heart. So even for someone like me, who scarcely knew I had one.

Already by the end part of our journey from Fuso I was consternated to find that I experienced a strange little trill inside when in your company, and even worse was the handful of moments I felt my heart speed up ever so slightly because of you. For me, a person who regularly flies into combat with less internal turmoil, this was unheard of and quite bewildering. My fondness for you was ever growing, and I found I wanted you by my side as much as possible. Any excuse would do.

When we reached our destination you became a source of frustration for me as well.

For most part you were the same sweet, earnest and honest person who had begun making me feel just a little bit dizzy or off kilter when I looked into those eyes for a moment too long, but there was another side of you that had not revealed itself to me before your interaction with the rest of the squadron, and it was quickly becoming a source of annoyance.

This rampant teenage lusting after the female physique, regardless of person or place, made me want to pull out my hair at times, and whether I wanted to admit it or not by that time I had invested enough of my heart in you that this behaviour hurt. I was accustomed to this kind of conduct from several others of the younger members of our team and had long since ceased trying to stop them, but I had never thought you would join them.

True, in your case your actions tended to be a bit more innocent or accidental, allowing me to turn a partial blind eye to what you were up to, still the gist of it was clearly undeniable.

You were a young teen, barely more than a child. Although I at the time refused to acknowledge the true nature of my interest in you, I still felt very clearly the sense of inappropriateness in it while you were so young. I tried to distance myself from you after that, although I doubt that you noticed since you simply refused to let me.

How was I ever supposed to be able to refuse a request to train you, when it was one of my more nostalgic memories of my childhood; the hours spent in practice secretly making believe that I was teaching you each thing I learned.

I was a very solitary child and you were, in a way, my imaginary friend.

As an adult I am no longer so solitary; I have good and trusted friends of whom some have been with me for a long time. It never occurred to me that the one closest to me, the one I would consider my best friend and whose leadership I would have followed blindly into whatever danger, would in any way hold other feelings for me. I wish I had, perhaps I could have found a way to spare her pain.

The events that led her to reveal her otherwise so guarded heart to me made me realise not only the unspoken emotions directed at me, but also those I myself carried for you. It is entirely inappropriate and unacceptable of me, but there it is and it is true.

I love you, not the childish emotions of long ago, but as a woman for another.

You, however, are still a child in many things, and although I cannot seem to change my heart at least I can make sure to never act upon this revelation. One day when you are an adult I will tell you, and perhaps by then it too will be a thing of the past, something to merely share a smile over before moving on.

Until then I will be here, watching over you, guiding and protecting you. It is not because of your father although I would have done as much for any child of his, but rather out of my own wish to do so. Forgive me my selfishness, but keeping you safe as you grow strong enough for all the great things I know you have in store for you will give meaning to my life.

You are my treasure, my reason.

Ever since I found myself drawn into those sparkling eyes of yours I have had something personal to protect beyond the so important yet rather intangible fighting for the future of humanity, or even the safe return of friends and allies.

Something precious.

You gave me my heart when you claimed it for your own.



A Love That Is Mine 5

Strike Witches-fanfic. A helpful Erica Hartmann decided to do a good deed.
Fifth part in a series of short stories.
(Minna/Barkhorn)

Read A Love That Is Mine 5





Disclaimer: All things Strike Witches belong to Gonzo and a bunch of others, though I’m sure I’m not hurting anything by borrowing them for a bit.

This is the fifth part in the “A Love That Is Mine”-series.



A Love That Is Mine 5
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by Carola “Ryûchan” Eriksson





I never had love.

Oh I’ve flirted aplenty, and been flirted with, but beyond that, the actual emotions... no, I have never had love. I figure that I’m young, things like that will come to me in time, when something in me is ready for it and there is a place for that love in my life. It is not something to stress oneself over.

Still, I’ve found myself thinking a lot lately that it would be nice to have, to share that sort of thing with someone. I admit that I’ve looked at some of my more obviously amorous friends and felt the occasional pang of envy... how nice to belong together with someone.

That is probably a big part of the reason why it gets on my nerves when certain people waste it, squander what they’ve been given by dancing around the issue and one another, saying nothing. I kind of want to yell at them to get on with it already. I know I’m the irresponsible one of the team, but even I know to have my fun today because tomorrow I might get shot out of the sky for good. Even fool’s luck runs out someday.

Such was the case with my two oldest and dearest friends, until recently that is.

I had seen it coming for some time, and it wasn’t particularly surprising that once a certain person managed to put her hang-ups to rest, my dear old former teacher was going to get caught dead in her sights. Which is all fine and good, they’re made for one another and I’ve been expecting this for almost as long as I’ve known them, but little miss combat genius has her ponytails tied on too tight to catch a clue even if it is hammered into her skull. It was almost painfully embarrassing to watch.

After some time of this kind of behaviour even the kid started sighing and rolling her eyes when those two got going, yes they’re both so sugary cute it makes my teeth itch, but something just had to give. I was sorely tempted to intervene, but none of my ingenious plans were likely to work, after all, how does one manage to lock two women into a small room together if one somehow has the ability to read your mind and the other the strength to tear down walls like they’re tissue paper?

I was going to have to plan it all very carefully and be extra sneaky.

Thankfully I never needed to implement any of my cunning plans as my friends saw fit to come to their senses just before I would have been forced to flip a coin for which one of before mentioned plans to put in motion. We were supposed to wait for the kid while she was getting ready, and I was busy describing my war achievements to this pretty little thing that was absolutely fascinated by me – what can I say, I’m so charming it’s sinful – while a certain couple in the making quite suspiciously retreated to a nearby balcony.

For all I know they were out there flirting their Strikers off while alone, after all I took my time to finish the conversation with pretty before stealthily sneaking up to check on them, but at least I got there for the important part.

When I first spied them they were standing close together, good old teach looking almost mortally uncomfortable with her shoulder providing someone else’s headrest, but completely unable to move since her arm was in quite a secure double-armed hold. As giggle-worthy as that sight was, it was also fairly par for the course, so I was going to just step out and strike up conversation when something happened.

At first it seemed to be the usual let-me-straighten-your-crooked-hair-by-embracing-you,-pressing-my-body-shamelessly-against-yours-while-staring-deeply-into-your-eyes thing – I need to come up with a good name for this manoeuvre, it is really quite effective apparently – but just as they were about to draw apart my old buddy surprised me and possibly herself as well.

Even though I could tell that her ears were bright red from where I was standing, she had some spurt of boldness from I don’t know where and yanked our other friend back into a close clinch, and then she kissed her. Just like that, and not a short little peck of a kiss either.

They drew back far enough to stare at one another, looking about as shocked as I felt. It took me a long moment to comprehend that it was real, but by the time I could finally process it I was fully ready to run out to the nearest populated street, wave flags around while proclaiming to all that heard that THEY FINALLY DID IT, but I restrained myself. See, I do have discipline.

I would like to say that at this point they leaned in and kissed each other again, however it was more like they fell upon one another like a pair of starving wolves. I stopped my internal cheering and celebrating enough to stare at them completely dumbfounded for another good long moment, while they were getting increasingly heated. It is not something that is easy to do, but I swear they made me blush.

When they upturned that table in their search for a convenient and friendly nearby wall, breaking whatever that clay ornament on it was supposed to be in the process, the paralysis spell deviously thrown on me broke, and I made a very hasty strategic withdrawal. I then wedged a chair against the door from the inside and, a quick dash down the corridor and back later, managed to write a sign in nice, big block letters that said OUT OF ORDER, DO NOT DISTURB that I hung on that chair.

After that I strolled off to make sure the kid was kept occupied until her big sister, and her sister’s blushing brand new girlfriend, decided to come looking for us. All in all I’d say that was pretty nice of me, so I don’t see why I am the one currently locked out on the balcony of our apartment with nothing but a blanket and a wooden recliner for company.

Sure, I tease them as much as I can every chance I get... and I did kind of end up spilling everything to these two other friends of ours, who thought it was hilarious and in turn told several other people, but still! To lock me out here and then go to bed themselves, is that any way to treat a friend?

Ah well, its not so bad. It is a warm night, and those stars look quite amazing from here. I think I’ll just lie here and continue to dream of that elusive someday.

The day when I too will know what it is like to love.



Wednesday, September 24, 2008

A Love That Is Mine 4

Strike Witches-fanfic. Lynette thinks she might have found love where she least expected it.
Fourth part in a series of short stories.
(Lynette/Perrine with mention of Yoshika)


Read A Love That Is Mine 4





Disclaimer: All things Strike Witches belong to Gonzo and a bunch of others, though I’m sure I’m not hurting anything by borrowing them for a bit.

This is the fourth part in the “A Love That Is Mine”-series.



A Love That Is Mine 4
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by Carola “Ryûchan” Eriksson





Were you my first love? Was I yours?

I do not know, I was far too naïve then and it passed me by unawares. Thinking back now though I think there was something between us, something beyond the strong and true friendship that we did and still do share though we are now a world apart, something strangely deeper. A possibility of something that could have been but never was, if that makes any sense.

I suppose we were children still, playing at the beginnings of romance before we even knew it, and by the time we could tell what was possible for us the chance of it, of us, had already become a thing of the past. It is nothing but curiosity coloured by nostalgia now for me, wondering what would have happened if you had ever reached out for me. Would I have accepted? What would we have become together?

The friendship that we share is something I am both happy and content with, and if there was ever the urge to take it further I no longer have it, consciously or otherwise. Although I find myself missing you often, it is my most precious friend that I long for, not a lover I wish had been mine. If I know you even half as well as I think I do, you feel the same.

I could sure have needed to have you around now though, to share these other thoughts and feelings that have preoccupied my mind of late. I wonder what you would think of this situation I find myself in, and what advice, if any, that you might have for me.

The decision was easy, it was as if it had been agreed upon long before in how obvious and clear it was to me that my path was the same as hers. Rebuilding what was lost is both so very needed and a good cause, and it is one that I feel far better suited to than combat. Work might be hard but it also brings me much joy in so many small ways, and I am so glad I can share those moments with her.

There was always something about her that I admired and respected in some small way, and it had nothing to do with her competence in battle though she proved that as well. Strangely now that we spend so much time together, alone, I can truly see how she was held back before, like a flower not allowed enough room or light to grow. Now, here, she reveals her true self, the strength and grace which were overshadowed before and that now sparkles so much it amazes me. I could think of nowhere better to be, nothing more worthwhile for me to do, than to be at her side.

She is also very gentle and caring, particularly with me. I know the others would laugh if they knew that there is no place I feel as safe or as welcome as by her side, but they know only of the old her, not of her as she truly is.

Who would believe me if I tried to describe the childlike joy on her face that comes from the simple act of planting a small sapling? Or the gentle care and immense concern directed at me for even the smallest scrape or tiny splinter? She treats me sometimes as if I was as fragile as glass and infinitely precious, causing my heart to beat just that much faster every time.

Her hands. I am embarrassed to admit it even to myself, but her hands fascinate me. So slender and smooth, yet so strong and sure... always catching me, guiding me, supporting me. Lately my thoughts have strayed even further, and I have caught myself thinking that her hands, slightly cooler to the touch than mine, would feel so soothing against the heated skin of my face, my cheeks, my forehead.

Once I fantasized of other places where her touch would be bliss, and since then I cannot keep myself from blushing when our eyes meet for too long. Now I know why I blush when our gazes meet or my fingers linger a bit longer than they should when we touch by chance, but why does she?

Could it be that this remarkable person sees beyond the friend, student and little sister, and sees in me a woman worth noticing? The mere thought of the possibility of this makes my heart soar every bit as much as I ever did while flying in these endless blue skies. I am left almost giddy and breathless, and have to control myself so that I will not simply rush to her and wrap my arms around her neck, never letting go.

Is this love? The closest I have ever felt to this are the nascent feelings that almost were with you, and this is so infinitely much more.

The next time she takes my hand to guide me over uneven terrain the way she does to keep me from falling on my face, I shall entwine our fingers and see how she reacts. Maybe, if I am really lucky, she will accept my hand and not let me go.

Maybe she will want it too, this unexpected feeling growing between us.

This love that could be just ours.



A Love That Is Mine 3

Strike Witches-fanfic. Barkhorn never had time for love before, but with the squadron disbanded she suddenly finds that she has nothing but time to spare.
Third part in a series of short stories.
(Barkhorn/Minna with brief mention of Yoshika)


Read A Love That Is Mine 3




Disclaimer: All things Strike Witches belong to Gonzo and a bunch of others, though I’m sure I’m not hurting anything by borrowing them for a bit.

This is the third part in the “A Love That Is Mine”-series. Also, since I know nothing about the characters beyond what they reveal in the series I am making up a lot as I go along. If this doesn't fit with novels or whatnot, then that is why.



A Love That Is Mine 3
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by Carola “Ryûchan” Eriksson





I never had time for love.

Even before the fall of my home country I was a soldier at war, and love had no place in my life. Apart from my duties there was also my adorable little sister to raise and an undisciplined yet promising junior to take under my wing. What time did I have for any fleeting thoughts of romance?

Then that dreadful day came when I failed, failed my country and my beloved sister. In one great and terrible swoop it seemed as if I had lost both, my home in burning ruins and my sister comatose from the injuries she sustained. I lived for nothing but duty and vengeance after that, unable to bear my shame and guilt.

I don’t think I could even tell how much time passed by, until I found myself face to face with a wide-eyed and naïve young recruit that reminded me so much of my precious little sister. I tried to turn her away but she got under my skin anyway.

Everyone suggests that what I feel for her is romantic in nature, that I have some sort of crush on the girl. I am pretty sure that is not it, how could I have those kinds of feelings for someone so reminiscent of my little sister, but I know that I am quite helpless when confronted with her sadness or disappointment. The slightest hint of either stirs the protective older sister in me and I will move mountains to protect her smile.

It is not a crush, I tell you it is not!

Either way she is back in her homeland now, hopefully reclaiming what the war had not already stolen of the remains of her childhood. This is good and I am happy for her.

I still cannot believe that they disbanded our squadron. It makes no sense that they would disband the most successful group in the entire joint forces, the only ones to actually reclaim land from the enemy. Beyond the land that is now freed the smoking ruins of my home awaits, and I wanted us to be sent to press on, to reclaim my native lands as well. Instead I am cooling my heels here, another row of medals on my uniform and a pat on the back as I was pushed out the door.

Usually I leave such things to my superior officer, she is far smarter with these things and by far better equipped to deal with them, but even I can tell that this is all a game of politics. The higher-ups are shuffling us about in their attempts to cover up the Warlock fiasco and the corruption within their ranks that allowed it to happen in the first place. See, this is why she is far better suited to these things than I, she will parry words with them until she gets what she wants, while I am more inclined to put my fist in their faces whilst yelling at them for being honourless bastards.

She told me that I should take this as a long overdue and well-deserved vacation and spend time with my sister, because it won’t be too long before we get reinstated and based somewhere on the frontlines again. I believe her of course, she is never wrong, and so I am doing just that. I suppose I should be surprised that she and our nosy, big mouthed junior have opted to stay with me as well, but I’m not. In times like these one should be with family and family we are, for all that we’re not of the same blood.

I know that without her in particular I would be lost.

I need her to boss me around, certainly, and to reign me in and keep me from making a fool out of myself at times, but that is not all. There is something else as well, though I can’t quite put my finger on it. Perhaps I am just thinking too much.

It is so soothing to listen to her sing, and maybe a bit nostalgic as well since she did not want to sing for so very long. I find I could sit there for hours watching her and listening to her, if she had the voice and the strength to keep going, and I’d feel completely at peace. I would say that such is the power of music, only I have never felt that way when listening to other singers. It is quite strange really.

Normally I would feel comfortable and, well, at home I suppose, by her side, but ever since our squadron was disbanded I have detected a certain steadily increasing change in her behaviour which puts me a bit on edge. It is not that I dislike it, I just find that I do not know how to react sometimes, and I don’t like feeling so confused about her.

It started pretty small. She took to standing just a bit closer than she used to, which was not saying much because she was always a rather touchy-feely person with us, her oldest friends, when we were not acting in an official capacity. I noticed but brushed it aside as nothing.

Then she started... touching me. These casual touches seem different somehow, I can’t really say why. Perhaps it is because they linger a bit longer or a bit more significantly than before, or perhaps it is that she sometimes touches me in ways that are rather embarrassing. I’m not sure if she is teasing me or if she honestly does not notice that when she does things like brush a finger across my lips I light up like red-tinted bonfire.

She leans far too close when we interact as well. Lately she has taken to straightening my ponytails for me when they are crooked, which of course is very kind and considerate of her, it is just that she does it from the front, standing close and reaching her arms around my neck to pull at my hair. She means nothing by it and probably doesn’t think it is strange at all for two old friends to stand like that, but... I fear for my sanity as being that close I cannot seem to stop staring at her. Also a woman of her, ah, generous endowments really do not have the room to stand that close, at least not without... without...

I will not think about that again. No, no, I will not.

She always catches me when I look at her and accidentally think of such things. I curse my blushing for betraying me so easily. And when she does, she always, always responds by teasing me in some way, by touching me in a confusing manner while leaning far too close or even finding it the perfect opportunity to straighten my hair once again.

No, it is not that I dislike it; it is just bewildering and has me thinking things I have no business thinking about a friend. Not that I think such things are wrong for being between women, I’ve seen it often enough with my comrades in arms, but I’m sure she would be appalled to know I harboured those kind of thoughts about her. After all, though I am dense about these things, I am fairly sure her interests lie elsewhere.

I am nobody’s choice for such things.

I am just me, big and strong and only good for combat, someone who will fly and fight for as long as I have enough power in me to hold a shield. When that is gone, my wings clipped and I am grounded, the only thing I have to fall back on is more fighting, no matter how much I know that ground combat is useless against our enemy. It is all I know.

Still, can there be nothing else for me then? Will there never be anything else waiting for me when all the fighting is done?

I long for something. Maybe that is why my thoughts seem stuck on this loop lately, reflecting on that I never had time for love in my life before. Right now it seems I have nothing but time to spare, still when it comes to love I... I...

I wonder...

I wonder if she would laugh if I brought her flowers.



Tuesday, September 23, 2008

A Love That Is Mine 2

Strike Witches-fanfic. A few thoughts of a first love, and how it can blind you, from Perrine's point of view.
Second part of a series of short stories.
(onesided Perrine/Mio, Perrine/Lynette)


Read A Love That Is Mine 2




Disclaimer: All things Strike Witches belong to Gonzo and a bunch of others, though I’m sure I’m not hurting anything by borrowing them for a bit.

Part 2 in the “A Love That Is Mine”-series.



A Love That Is Mine 2
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by Carola “Ryûchan” Eriksson





You were my first love.

I realise now that you probably knew, but in your kindness never addressed that issue with me. You were always so kind and considerate towards me, yet you never doted upon me like you did the one that came to claim your heart. Although at the time it saddened me, and unfortunately made me face some rather ugly sides of myself, I feel grateful for this small grace.

I was a ravaged soul when we first met, my country, my home and all I had known hopelessly lost in the war. Somehow you managed to lift me up from where I had fallen and instilled in me a sense of pride, made me believe that my country could never truly be lost as long as I kept it strong and alive in my own heart. I did my best to be as honourable a daughter of my noble home as I could be, the way you were for yours even though you did not have the reasons I did.

You are my hero, did you know that?

You were always so strong, so sure, so noble and honourable. I saw in you everything I would ever wish to be, and I worshipped you. I followed you like a puppy, but I must say in all earnestness that my love for you was more than this. My love for you was genuine.

It was never my intention of pushing my feelings upon you. I was quite content watching you from afar, or basking in the glory of your presence during missions or training. Like yourself I always took both things very seriously, and you trained me hard in compliance with my wish for strength. My only selfish wish was to one day become strong enough and capable enough to be of help to you.

The jealousy that later overtook me was something I had never dreamt of in myself. It shames me to know the things I thought or said back then regarding she who is the closest to your heart. She deserved better and I should be better than this, however I was floundering and struggling with emotions that were new to me.

There is a lesson to be learned in this ugliness, in finding and acknowledging a less pleasant side of myself. In knowing this part of me I am better equipped never to let it rule me, though I fear I am still never going to be considered congenial by those around me; you were ever the only one that thought that of me.

You and now one other, though this has come as a surprise to me.

You were my first love, and as these things often go, it was a one-sided and unfulfilled love. It shall ever remain a fond memory for me, but I learned to let it go. The one that stands by your side now is not me, and that is as it should be. I respect and even like the one you chose, in my own strange way and although she had to earn that respect first, and I will always be the one that wishes for your happiness.

I am not alone anymore. Of those that were my comrades in arms, she was one of those I least would have expected to find myself close to, yet here we are. I marvel at the fact that my eyes were so filled to the brim with the vision of you that I could not see her before. She was right before me yet I passed her by so many times, unseen.

She is so beautiful. Such a kind, gentle soul, with nothing but sweetness and light in her heart, I am constantly filled with wonder, watching her. She is polite and well-mannered, and most baffling of all, completely and utterly genuine in the truest sense. For every passing day I spend in her company I can feel her reaching in to claim a little bit more of me.

Why she chose to stay with me, taking on the momentous task of slowly rebuilding my homeland pebble by pebble, I do not know. She has no reason to, she has a home and a large and loving family that eagerly awaits her homecoming, yet she remains with me.

I have gotten to know her in ways I never could have before, and I can say truly what a wonder she is. It moves me and humbles me at the same time when she accidentally falls asleep on my shoulder, worn out by our work and so trusting in me that she can relax wherever we are as long as I am with her. I spend hours watching her sleep, the beauty and nuance of every shape, every flutter keeping me transfixed.

I loved you because you were my hero, you were everything I wished I could also be. More and more I am starting to realise that she is the reason I now would wish to be a person like you, the thing which I would protect. The person I cherish and adore, yes... the one I love.

Perhaps it is too soon to speak of love on my part, but I do not think so. My day would be empty, meaningless, without the sweet sound of her lilting voice or the warmth of her shy smile. Lately on the occasions when her innate clumsiness visits I find myself wanting to kiss away the scrape, the bruise or the frown in its wake. I find myself wanting to draw my fingers through her hair, or to kneel before her in a field of flowers, reciting poetry and all manner of other courtly things.

Soon I believe there will be no other recourse, and I will have to make these burgeoning feelings clear to her. Even if she then rejects me she deserves to know what is in my heart, and if I am to be a person worthy of someone like her I must be both brave enough and honest enough to face this. And if she does not reject me outright but gives me a chance, then I shall court her, woo her, charm her, this strange wonderful girl whom does not shy away from my company or my touch.

Even though I could never catch up to you, never become truly like you, if she accepts me I will become as the prince in a fairtale, living for my princess fair, protecting and caring for her.

Even if I have to face her many overprotective brothers to be with her, I shall be strong and charge that and any other hurdle life would throw our way.

And I will never, ever let her down.



A Love That Is Mine 1

Strike Witches-fanfic. A small story of love lost and found, from Minna's point of view.
First part of a series of short stories.
(onesided Minna/Mio, Minna/Barkhorn)


Read A Love That Is Mine 1




Disclaimer: All things Strike Witches belong to Gonzo and a bunch of others, though I’m sure I’m not hurting anything by borrowing them for a bit.

First part in a series of short stories on the same theme.



A Love That Is Mine
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
by Carola “Ryûchan” Eriksson





You were not my first love.

I had loved before you, and I had done so deeply and happily. When that love ended in heartbreak from the horrors of war it was too much for me to take, and I hid this bleeding heart of mine away behind walls and masks. No-one was allowed to enter into that inner sanctum, no matter how close my friends and comrades were or how well I loved them.

You snuck up on me unawares, slipped past my defences so slowly and surely that I never noticed it until it was too late to protect this vulnerable core of me from the force of nature that is you.

The irony of it all is that you never noticed. To you we were, are, shall ever be, close and steadfast friends and no more. We grew together as a unit, our joint leadership fusing us together in ways I have often in my mind likened to the way a married couple grows together over time; I have heard us described as the kind mother and the stern but benevolent father to our group of young warrior girls, and it has suggested to me that perhaps I was not the only one to draw this parallel.

How many times over the years that span our togetherness have I, consciously and not, likened what you do and what you are to me to that of a husband? It was but an amused observation at first, a comment to myself regarding the utter loyalty which you gave me so freely, but somewhere, sometime when I let my guard down for just a moment, you stepped in and took his place in my dreams. Those sweet forbidden dreams in which I no longer dreamt of him as my husband but of you, tall and strong and smiling, holding me as we danced in a world where war and painful things had no place.

Those dreams in which you were mine.

In troubled times you were my only counsel, and I know you in ways no-one else does. I flat out refused to love you for the longest time, as if I could simply will the emotions away, did you know that? I did not want to love, did not want to open myself to such pain ever again.

In the end I could not deny it though, such things always come to the surface one way or the other. It was too late by then, for me, for us; you looked at me with warmth, compassion and sympathy, yes even pity, and in your silence confirmed that you knew and did not feel the same. By then I knew it too, that your heart had been claimed as unexpectedly as mine, but I needed this moment for my weakness. I needed to know that you acknowledged me, and to see your back when you turned and walked away.

I shall always love you, I know this much. There is a sacred place in my heart where I have enshrined my feelings for you, and they will remain there, pristine and evergreen, forever. But I have moved on, and my heart is no longer the bleeding and useless thing it was before I loved you. Though it frightens me greatly, I am ready to love and be loved, and for this I thank you. You were what I needed when I needed you.

Although it still stung somewhat right after my heart had been laid open and so gently yet firmly been rejected, I was filled with a sense of starting fresh, like a morning after a night of rain. The heavy clouds that had shrouded my eyes had cleared, and I could see clearly now.

At long last I could see her, well and truly. For so long she had been one of my closest friends and allies, second only to you although there was an ocean of difference in that small step alone, and I can honestly say that I have loved her dearly all this time. It was not the love I once held for him, now so coloured in pain that I cannot recall its original flavour, nor was it the struggling reluctant love that pierced my heart and made me ache when I looked at you, and in honesty I think it shall never be like that.

I was unprepared for it when I found myself looking at her and was immersed in a flood of warmth, soft and soothing and filling every part of my being, making me feel more genuinely joyful and complete than I had in so very long. You are similar in many ways, like you she is strong and stoic on the surface yet so very sweet beneath, but the way I feel about her is not at all similar to how I felt for you. With you I wanted you to hold me, I longed for the safety of being in your arms. With her I long to hold her, to wrap my arms around her and find those small, gentle and peaceful moments together.

I am grateful to you for that. Had you not opened my heart I would not be able to love her now, and loving her is something I can envision myself doing for my future. She doesn’t know it yet, she is not quite ready for me yet, but I am patient and do not mind the wait. The signs are already there, in her shy glances, her blushes and her warm smiles. It won’t be long at all until I will find her looking back at me, with eyes that hold only love and acceptance. Soon she will reach out for me for no other reason than to touch me, to hold my hand, and until then I shall savour the sensation of this sweet falling.

You were not my first love, nor will you be my last.

We shared a time in our lives that shall always be important to me, and you set me free. I will never regret my love for you, and I shall always be grateful that our time together allows me to love her, to accept her and whatever our future might have in store for us. I wish you the same freedom and hope for your happiness, though I suspect that it will be thrust upon you whether you would accept it or not.

As for myself, I step forward stronger and more complete than before. I am confident that I can take what the future holds for me, filled with anticipation as I am for the day very soon when I will finally know the warmth of another’s heart.

The day when I will finally have a love that is truly mine.



Monday, September 15, 2008

The One That Loves Me

Strike Witches-fanfic. The aftermath of a battle leads to some unusual reactions and revelations for Sanya and Eila.
Sequel to "The One That Loves You" and "In The Cards".
(Eila/Sanya)



Read The One That Loves Me








Disclaimer: All things Strike Witches belong to Gonzo and a bunch of others, though I’m sure I’m not hurting anything by borrowing them for a bit.

Sequel to “The One That Loves You” and “In The Cards”.



The One That Loves Me
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by Carola “Ryûchan” Eriksson




There are different kinds of waking up. One can ‘wake up’ to the realisation that you are in love with your best friend, or ‘wake up’ to the knowledge that you have been an utter ignorant fool. You can even wake up to the knowledge that you are the most stinking lucky woman in the world, or...

...you can just wake up.

I open my eyes to blurry whiteness, something which generally speaking is not what I am used to when looking straight up at my ceiling. Reluctantly my eyes clear and focus, and I am better able to tell the whitewashed surface to be the ceiling of the medical wing. Ah, okay. I close my eyes again.

Wait, what? The medical wing? Why am I here?

Eyes open again I try to move, only to find that my limbs are sluggish and largely unresponsive. I ache all over as well, but then again I am a soldier on the frontlines of the war, I usually ache someplace. What is more peculiar is this feeling of being completely washed out.

The window is the first thing that draws my attention. There are no drapes that cover them so I can see the sunlight and the blue skies from here, though I’m not sure why I feel that this is important. Perhaps I’ve just been assigned to night duty for too long.

I listen to the quiet for a moment, feeling peaceful despite the fact that I am tired as anything and can’t recall why I’m here. It takes me a moment to realise that I hear someone breathing.

Sanya. Of course, that is Sanya’s breathing, a sound I am very familiar with from all the days and nights we tend to sleep together. No wonder I felt peaceful.

Sanya is sitting next to the hospital bed, for indeed I am lying in one, resting her head partly on the mattress and partly on me, and she has a surprisingly firm grip on my arm for someone who is sleeping. I manage to get my other arm to obey me enough to shakily reach over to brush her hair out of her lovely face.

The sight of that beloved face ravaged by tears nearly manage to make me spring to my feet, weakness or no. Only the thought that she will be jostled awake manage to stop me somewhere between lying down and sitting up.

What has made my precious Sanya suffer so? I must remember. Concentrating hard things begin to come back to me, though far slower than I would have liked.

I remember that we were chatting about going to the sauna after our duty shift was over, Sanya, myself and the others, when the alarm sounded for another Neuroi attack. We were launched quickly and caught up to the Neuroi well over the ocean... there was a thunderstorm on the way, the skies thick with dark clouds and savage winds, and we were supposed to dispose of this latest attacker as quickly as possible before the lightning started. Flying in rain is in some ways similar to flying in darkness, visibility can go down to nearly nothing, and it is dangerous for those that aren’t accustomed to it. Flying in a thunderstorm however is darn near suicidal.

We were rearranged into a formation with Sanya at the lead point and me and Miyafuji flanking her, and then we engaged the enemy. I think I can pretty much recall every manoeuvre I performed, every charge I made or assisted in, until Sanya made the kill.

N-no, wait... something happened then, didn’t it?

My memories begin to get hazy at around that point. Let’s see, we were high up, driven right into the clouds during the battle with the Neuroi, and we could barely make out one another when flying took us a bit further apart. I was right in front of Sanya when she fired the finishing shot, providing a little extra shielding for her from the intense barrage of fire the Neuroi kept up right until it disintegrated.

Oh... I think I remember now. Just as Sanya had fired, while everyone was focused on the soon to be former Neuroi, I heard Sanya make an alarmed sound. I turned just in time to see Sanya try to bring her shield around, staring at something in the clouds behind us.

A Neuroi, wasn’t it? A strange-looking small one, I wonder how it could have gotten past Sanya’s senses, but either way it was there.

I... released my own shield and dashed in front of Sanya just as the second Neuroi fired. Yes, I think that’s what happened... I somehow got my shield up in time to take the brunt of the attack but not all of it, which must mean that I got hit by some stray blasts.

Sanya whimpers in her sleep, and as I carefully stroke her hair hoping to drive the bad dreams away I realise that I do remember what happened after that.

There was no pain, just a bit of confusion as I was suddenly in Sanya’s arms, probably thrown there by the force of what hit me, and I wondered why she was bathed in red. I tried to say something but couldn’t, and the image of horrified emerald eyes became very distant, until I couldn’t see anything at all.

The last thing I remember of that fight is the horrible, terrible sound of Sanya screaming, first my name and then just screaming, so loud and heartbreaking that it cut right through me. After that, everything is darkness.

“N-no... Eila...” Sanya is whimpering in her sleep, tears leaking out from behind closed lids. I try to gently shake her awake, the sound and sight of her suffering cutting into me like Major Sakamoto’s sword through Neuroi. “Eila! Don’t take Eila away! EILA!”

She screams herself awake, bolting to her feet with a wild yet heartbroken look on her face while the tears pour down her pale cheeks like waterfalls.

“Sanya? Sanya calm down, I’m right here.” At first it seems like she doesn’t hear me, she just stares into nothingness with that expression on her face like she has lost everything. “Sanya?”

Finally she must have heard me, for she blinks slowly and turns to me. Only at this moment do I notice that Sanya is not wearing her usual uniform but a large white shirt that I’m sure I’ve never seen in her wardrobe. Sanya blinks again, several times, and slowly that painful expression in her eyes melts away and the light I so love returns. “...E-Eila?”

“EILA!”

Before I can really react to it Sanya has hurled herself at me with such force that she veritably tackles me flat to the mattress with her sprawled out on top of me. She grabs onto me rather hard and sobs into my shoulder, repeating my name over and over.

“...Eila, Eila, Eila, Eila, Eila, my Eila, my brave, wonderful Eila, Eila, Eila...”

I embrace her back, hold her tight and try my best to comfort, to tell her that I am alright, even though my thoughts are whirling. ‘My Eila’, is it? I’m hers? Oh my sweet, sweet Sanya, you have no idea how much. I think I might just be yours forever.

“It’s ok Sanya... I’m right here, I’ve got you.” I speak to her softly and stroke her hair, pushing the other thoughts aside for now. I’ll figure out later what she might mean by that, right now I have to take care of Sanya.

As she clings to me desperately, saying my name into the shoulder she is crying on, a few other fragments of memories flicker through my mind. I’m not sure I can make sense of them as they really are just a few distorted images, of dark skies rushing by, of Sanya covered in blood, my blood I suppose, and of... blue light covering the world?

I kiss the top of her head and just hold her, maybe rocking her ever so slightly while making some kind of comforting noises, but mostly I just let her get it out. I want to apologise to her for making her so sad and upset, but this isn’t the time for that. I will have to find a way to make it up to her later.

“Glad to see that you are awake.” A quiet and deep-pitched voice speaks up from the direction of the door, almost making me jump in surprise. I hadn’t heard anyone come in.

“Major Sakamoto...” I greet the woman leaning in the doorway but trail off as I notice how tired my otherwise so unflappable superior officer looks.

“She hasn’t left your side since they let her in here.” Sakamoto continues in the same tone of voice as she approaches the side of the bed, gracing my Sanya with a small and surprisingly fond smile. Sanya herself shows no sign that she has noticed that there is anyone else in the room with us. “Ah, that’s right, Shirley managed to drag her off for a short bath while Miyafuji and the doctors were working on you, of course.”

She hasn’t left my side? Oh Sanya. “How long have I...”

“Four days.” I wince at that but Sakamoto does not notice. “Your roommate woke up yesterday though.”

Roommate? Does she mean Sanya? No, wait... blue light... of course. “Miyafuji. She healed me, didn’t she?” Even though her lack of control over her healing powers can end up killing her if she uses them. “Probably saved my life, too. How is she?”

“She drained herself badly enough to have slept for most part of three days,” Here Sakamoto’s eyes were drawn back towards the door and what lay beyond it. I guess I can imagine why she looks tired now. “but she is fine now, and eager to see you now that you’re awake.”

Whatever else either of us would have said about it was lost as Sanya, apparently done crying for now, sat up and unceremoniously scrubbed her face on the oversized shirt she was wearing. Undoubtedly the shirt belongs to Shirley, I must remember to thank her for taking care of Sanya in my place.

I opened my mouth to ask if Sanya was alright, but that was as far as I got. Pale slender hands reached up to cup my face, and briefly I caught a flash of liquid green.

Suddenly Sanya’s lips are pressed firmly and insistently against mine for a good long moment.

My brain short-circuits, and by the time she releases me I am no longer breathing, there is a deafening roar in my ears, and the room outside of Sanya’s beautiful blushing face is rippling and buckling.

“Never leave me, Eila.”

I never have the chance to reflect over the quiet intensity of her plea or how it pierces my heart, for as soon as the words are spoken Sanya’s lips find mine again. This time it is even sweeter somehow, filled with longing and brings with it the faint taste of tears.

The world tilts on its axis and goes dark.

----------------------------------

The next time I open my eyes it is to the sight of Major Sakamoto towering over me with a wryly amused look on her. I blink at her for a long moment and do my best to focus. No offence to the Major, but hers is not a face I particularly want to wake up to, even if she seems to be in a good mood.

Someone tugs at her arm and the Major steps back to be replaced by a younger and far more cheerful face. “Eila-san! You’re awake!”

Miyafuji isn’t using her abilities right now, yet I swear I can see that tail wagging. I chuckle at her and pat her head though I am still a bit woozy. “Hey you. Yeah, I’m awake, all thanks to you I hear.”

Oh yeah, that tail is wagging alright.

“Oh! I’m glad I could help!” Although Miyafuji is happy and cheerful it is quite clear that she is still very worn out. I feel a bit guilty for that, though mostly just grateful. “Anything for my friends.”

As she says this Miyafuji looks to the other side of the bed, and when I follow her gaze I find Sanya sitting there quite demurely, hands in her lap and her eyes averted. She is wearing her usual uniform again, and from the way the edges of her bangs seem to be slightly wet I get the impression that she has recently gone to wash herself up.

This is when I remember what happened before my... unfortunate... blackout, and Sanya and I both blush profusely.

I need to talk to her. I need to find out if she meant what she did the way I most desperately hope she did – and oh if she did, whoa, then I can go out and defeat every single Neuroi all by myself because I will be invincible!

As anxious and nervous as I feel about what Sanya might be thinking, I am still overcome with the urge to simply grab the girl and run for it. The most sparkling and amazing image comes to mind, of Sanya in my arms, of white clothes and shining Strikers, of bells and blue skies and all of our friends as cupids, throwing confetti and playing trumpets... the sugary girly-girlishness of it all embarrasses me, so I shake my head to get back to reality.

“I’m glad to see that you are doing better.” I’m a little startled to hear Lynette’s lilting voice because I had not realised that she was in the room. Looking for her I find her standing slightly behind Major Sakamoto, smiling gently as usual, with a frowning Perrine leaning on the wall behind her. As I thank Lynette I get a somewhat terse nod and a troubled look from Perrine, conveying her concern for a comrade and her well-wishes all in one go.

“We should leave you to your other visitors now, so you don’t, ahh, overdo it again.” Sakamoto takes a small step forward and puts her hands on Miyafuji’s shoulders. “And you still need to rest, as well.” This was directed at Miyafuji and not me, thankfully distracting me from thinking too much about what Sakamoto was really talking about.

“C’mere.” I tell Miyafuji, holding out my arms while grinning at her. She giggles and happily accepts my hug. “You saved me.” I tell her quietly. “Thank you.”

As we let go and Miyafuji leave the room with Sakamoto and the others I notice that Sanya is frowning. There’s no opportunity to ask what is wrong since the previously mentioned second group of visitors enter. I’ve barely exchanged greetings with Barkhorn before Shirley ambles over and, after a swift but frankly quite painful jab to my upper arm, grabs me in a hug.

“Thank you for looking after Sanya for me.” I tell my comrade in mischief quietly as I hug her back. It is good to know that if anything should happen to me our friends will look out for her.

“No problem. What are friends for? Just... make sure we won’t need to do it again anytime soon.” Shirley replies equally quietly so no-one will overhear. “That girl is crazy about you.” She grins and punches my arm again as she steps back.

I don’t get the time to consider what Shirley told me as the instant she steps back I am fiercely charged by a wild animal. Well, by Lucchini actually, but she’s half cat anyway, and whether she is trying to hug me or just strangle me is anybody’s guess.

“Stupid! Stupid stupid stupid stupidstupidstupid! Never do that again, stupid!”

I nod a little and agree, what else can I do? “I promise I’ll try.”

“Good!” Apparently I have appeased her, because the stranglehold lets up. I pat her head like I did Miyafuji’s and she tries to glare at me, the effect is ruined though by the fact that she is crying a little. Before I know it she has darted forward and kissed my cheek, then bounced off the bed and bounded off to cling to Shirley. The two of them make it out of the room before I’ve even registered what Lucchini did.

“It seems someone is getting an awful lot of love today.” Barkhorn sounds dry enough, but I can still tell from here that she’s laughing inside. Glaring at her is absolutely ineffective too, so I guess I’ll just have to sulk. A glance at Sanya reveals to my surprise that not only is she still frowning, Sanya is pouting and look rather... angry.

Lucchini is rapidly replaced by Hartmann, and only my confusion keeps me from throwing her across the room. I don’t like that gleam in her eyes, what is she up to now?

She throws her arms around me and squeals. “Eeeiilaa, I want hugs and kisses and snuggles with you tooo!” She tops her performance off with that gleaming smile she has that makes the civilian girls swoon when she walks by, and a batting of her lashes that chills me to the bone. Facing Neuroi is less scary than this.

The world is violently jostled around again, and I dread what new surreal experience I’ll have the next time I open my eyes.

When the room stops moving this time though, the world is by far a better place. Why? Because I find myself in Sanya’s surprisingly possessive embrace.

Even though she is furious and glaring daggers at Hartmann, my Sanya is beautiful beyond words.

Hartmann grins unrepentantly though she is yanked out of the room by her ear by an apologetic and terribly embarrassed Barkhorn, while Sanya is thoroughly cleaning my apparently offensively dirtied cheek and frowning. While I don’t really care about the former, the latter has me just about ecstatic.

Finally alone. I smile happily at her.

“You don’t like it when other people get too close to me, huh?” Sanya gives a guilty start, and blushes. Good, while the frowning and pouting was cute and all, a smile or a blush looks even better on her.

“That’s ok Sanya...” I tell her and lean my forehead against hers. “I don’t like it when other people get too close to you either.”

Aww, now that was the smile I was hoping to see... no, wait, why are those gorgeous green eyes tearing up?

“Eila...” Sanya’s voice is shaky, tinted with pain. “I almost lost you.” A beat. “Please don’t ever go where I can’t follow.”

“I’m sorry.” I hold her closer and press a kiss to her forehead. “I would never leave you willingly, Sanya.”

“I want to be with you always.” She whispers, and a small hand sweetly touches the side of my face. “Only you, Eila.”

I want to cry now too, getting all choked up with emotion. Instead I wipe her tears away and place an adoring kiss on her palm. “San-“

“I love you.”

Sanya looks as shocked as I feel; I don’t think she intended to say that out loud. I crush her to me.

“I love you too, Sanya, so very much.”

I grab my courage with both hands to muster the strength to run my fingers through her silky hair and lightly down one faintly blushing cheek. I touch her chin and she responds by tilting her face towards me, lips slightly parted and eyes fluttering closed. My lips brush against hers very lightly at first, and I move back for just a moment before returning for more. We are surprisingly good at this, Sanya and I, as if this was something we did often, and we spend a long time delightfully and unhurriedly moving together before drawing apart enough to look at one another.

There’s so much more I want to say to her, so much more I want to ask, but my strength has run out and I can feel sleep beckoning me. There will be other opportunities to speak of everything, to learn anything Sanya may have to show me and to shower her with all the love I feel for her.

For right now though I whisper the words in her ear and scoot over to make some room for her to come lay down beside me. She smiles brightly at me and eagerly crawls into bed next to me, claiming my shoulder for her pillow and cuddles as close as she can. I smooth out the edge of the blanket and hold her contently when a thought occurs to me. When I speak my voice is quiet and touched by sleep, and hers is the barest murmur underneath my chin.

“Sanya?”

“Yes?”

“You never really mistook my room for yours, did you?”

A soft giggle is my answer.

“...you sneak.” I am grinning like a fool, but that is ok. Sanya loves me.

I allow sleep to take me, safe in the knowledge that she will still be here when I wake up. No matter what the world will throw at us from now on, we will create our own happiness, Sanya and I. Together.

And tomorrow is ours.



Saturday, September 6, 2008

In The Cards

Strike Witches-fanfic. Eila has offered to do a tarot reading for Sanya.
Sequel to "The One That Loves You".
(Eila/Sanya)



Read In The Cards





Disclaimer: All things Strike Witches belong to Gonzo and a bunch of others, though I’m sure I’m not hurting anything by borrowing them for a bit.

As I write this I’m up to episode 10 of the series, also this is the sequel/second part to “The One That Loves You”. I was suggested by Serai on Shoujoai to write something where Eila did a tarot read for Sanya, however I know precious little about tarot. Research basically left me even more confused, so besides the names of the two cards I mention, none of this has anything to do with actual tarot reading. Consider it Eila's own brand if you will. ;)




In The Cards
------------------------------------------------
by Carola “Ryûchan” Eriksson




The room is covered in darkness, broken only by the small circle of light here at the table. The small candles, one to my left and two to my right, illuminates the cards I’ve spread across the table surface and manage to light up her face just so, giving her an unearthly, floating, appearance.

We’re really supposed to be sleeping, and in Sanya’s room at that, but as neither of us are quite ready to sleep yet I suggested we stay in my room today instead. I wonder when our superior officers will finally clue in to the fact that Sanya sleeps in my room and not her own? The only time she stays there is when we are ordered to in preparation for the night shift.

To pass the time I suggested we do a reading on Sanya, and that is why the candles are lit. As much as I wish it was for some more auspicious reason, like a candlelit dinner for two or something likewise romantic, I know well enough that this is as close as I’ll get.

The first card I drew was the Fool, and if I had any doubts my Sight clearly told me that it was the symbol for her, for Sanya’s path or quest. All in all not a bad start, and I explained that to her as she watched with curiosity how I turned the cards.

Next I found strong friendship and acceptance, and while my Sight said nothing about it I would assume that it refers to me. My own feelings aside I do try to be as good a friend to Sanya as I am at all able.

After that came cards that spoke to me of a challenge she must face in order to have change, something for which she would need strength, faith and courage to obtain. Originally I intended this reading to be fake, just a tool for me to use to help Sanya get the courage to approach Miyafuji with, but that changed right away. I need not come up with a fake reading when the real one is saying all the things I had intended to.

There is someone in Sanya’s life that she has deep feelings of romantic nature for, and to win that person Sanya will have to find the strength to be brave, to take a chance. She will have the support of a good and accepting friend, and if she dares to go through with it the signs are in favour of success.

My palms are sweating and I am nauseous as we have gotten this far. I might have intended to do this on purpose, but I really did not want it to be true. I love Sanya after all.

Something will happen, something painful and difficult, but if endured it will bring positive change and... I lift the final card and turn it, but as I do it falls from my fingers, landing in the centre of the spread, face up.

The Lovers.

My Sight hits me, harder than I ever thought it could, only not the way it is supposed to. Instead of showing me how to interpret the cards laid out before me the present is yanked away from me, replaced with a vision so real and vivid that I can feel it. Taste it. Touch it.

Sanya.

Sanya, naked and beautiful, her skin flushed and her hair messy as she writhes, gasping, in the arms of her lover. I see her through that person’s eyes, but that is not all. I feel every sensation as if I was truly there, loving her.

Her skin is so hot and smooth against mine, the taste of it strangely electric as I move my lips against the pulse in her neck. She gasps as I do, her hands gripping onto me so hard I feel the bite of her nails though they don’t hurt. Nothing could hurt now, this is incredible, this is maddening, this is heaven; I rock with her until suddenly her body goes tense and arches beneath me. She is going to scream my name. My heart and the world both stop in euphoric anticipation.

“Eila!”

Darkness. Everything is darkness and I am strangely numb. I blink rapidly and try to focus despite feeling very confused.

My vision clears to a dark room with Sanya leaning over me looking very concerned. Apparently I am lying on the floor, something that is suddenly made abundantly clear as feeling returns to me as a sharp pain in the back of my skull and a dull ache in my back and left hip.

Sanya repeats my name, looking even more worried as she caresses my face. Wait, caresses my face? Dazedly I grin at her, thinking to myself that this falling off of chairs stuff is the life, if it comes with Sanya’s caresses in the bargain.

She is really worried by what happened, upset too, and it takes quite a bit of me to convince her that I don’t need to be rushed over to the medical wing. Even when she calms down I can tell that she doesn’t entirely buy that I am fine, apparently I was convulsing on the floor and it scared her quite a bit.

I am still dazed enough by it all that Sanya flips the roles of our relationship and tug me over to the bed, making quick work of undressing me before surprisingly sternly ordering me to get under the covers. I barely have time to realise what happened before she has shed her own uniform and cuddles up to me. She twists us around until I am lying with my head on her shoulder, our arms loosely wrapped around one another save for the hand she has gently playing with my hair.

What just happened and the ramifications of it finally begin to sink in for me, and I am sure that if Sanya was not holding me so sweetly I would have remained awake tonight, tormented by the images. Clearly I am going insane from loving her, but who can blame me? She is so wonderful.

Sleepily she informs me that we are going to get up a bit ahead of schedule so that we can go find Major Sakamoto or Commander Wilcke to report what happened to me. Her embrace is so warm and protective that I just fall head over heels in love with her again

On the table the tarot cards lie scattered, forgotten.



The One That Loves You

Strike Witches-fanfic. There is someone that loves Sanya, but does Sanya love her back? Will have a sequel.
(Eila/Sanya)


Read The One That Loves You




Disclaimer: All things Strike Witches belong to Gonzo and a bunch of others, though I’m sure I’m not hurting anything by borrowing them for a bit.

As I write this I’m up to episode 10 of the series, also this will have a second part/sequel.



The One That Loves You
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
by Carola “Ryûchan” Eriksson




Honestly, everything about you is so unexpected. When we first met I never expected that you would become so important to me. That I would spend my days and nights taking care of you, or that our lives would be so inexplicably intertwined.

I never expected to fall in love with you.

How quickly and readily my life, my very being, moulded itself around you. I didn’t even notice it at the time, it felt like the most natural thing in the world, being with you. We gravitate towards and around one another, bound together with ties that go deeper than I think even we ourselves can fully understand yet.

I have wondered sometimes what you are thinking and feeling about us. I have never asked though. You are so young and we have time for you to realise for yourself how we are all but lovers already... or so I used to think. Perhaps I was just making excuses for not making my feelings clear to you and risk rejection, maybe I was just afraid all along.

Don’t you see me Sanya? I am the one that always stands next to you.

Until recently I thought that you needed me, that you sought me out, sought my help, my care, my companionship. It seemed to me that you were helpless without me, that you were so needy and required me to dote on you just to get through everyday life. That you needed me to help you with the mundane little things, washing, clothing, keeping you fed... you even find your way into my bed at night, as if you can’t stand to be apart for even that long.

How wrong I was. It isn’t you who are the needy one, the one that sought me out, oh no. It was always the reverse.

I stay beside you because there is nowhere else in the world I would rather be. Where you go I follow, like the ocean follows the moon. I wonder, do you even notice me, trailing your steps?

Everything changed when she came. I didn’t even pay that much attention to her, she was just a new recruit, the new kid, young and cute and terribly naïve. If anything I think I considered her the Major’s girl, seeing as how the two of them seemed to have gotten rather close pretty fast. That was before she was put on night duty with the two of us.

Miyafuji is a sweet girl, I can’t refute that, and she is very likeable too. Somewhat dense about some things, I think, and for all her gifts and her growing skill she’s not a soldier. It might not always be very apparent but I am every bit as much an ingrained soldier as Barkhorn or Major Sakamoto herself, for all that I sometimes play the part of the rogue – the military mindset and its discipline are imprinted into my spine.

Of course you can always make me lose my cool.

Miyafuji reached out to you, and to my shock and horror, charmed you completely. Do you think that I do not notice how you smile and blush in response to her? That I do not see you following her with your gaze, or how differently you react to her? Of course I do, I notice everything about you.

Each time it cuts a little deeper into my heart, and I bleed a little more.

I’ve struggled with it, but ultimately there is one thing that must always be true: I am the one that loves you, that would do anything for you. Even if that means seeing you find happiness with someone else.

So I’ve tried to make her pay attention to you when I can. I could sing your praise for hours and it would not mean as much as a single encouraging word from her, I realise that. It hurts, of course it does, but at least I do what I can. She’ll notice soon, you’ll see.

You have rivals for her attention, amazingly enough. I’ll never understand how anyone can look at the wonder that is you and then see anything else at all, but although it angers me a little, I suppose Miyafuji can’t help that she is that dense. With women throwing themselves at her left and right – or rather yanking at her I suppose – it might not be easy to notice your interest while you remain quiet and unmoving.

I’ll encourage you, if you can overcome just a little of your shyness there is no way she or anyone else could avoid noticing you. Once she sees you, truly sees you, she can’t help but fall at your feet. Who can?

I’m a fool, of course. Just a fool would try to get the girl she loves together with someone else. It is not like it didn’t occur to me though, that doing nothing, letting Miyafuji get yanked around by those other girls until one of them made an honest claim, would mean that I did not have to lose you. But you see, I could not bear for you to be in pain, or worse, cry over her.

Should the day arrive that you came to me crying over her, I would probably lose it altogether. I don’t doubt that I would beat Miyafuji to a bloody pulp for hurting you, regardless of the repercussions. Ha, I wonder what would happen first, Sakamoto and Barkhorn beating me into a pale smear on the runway, or the Commander having me drawn and quartered? Not that it would matter.

What then would I do if things go your way and Miyafuji loves you? Would I be able to take it, to watch you two together, to watch you with her doing all the things we used to and more? All while I continue on, alone and without you. Am I that strong?

No. I’m not, I know that. I would probably end up locking myself into my room when not on duty, except that would only make me feel worse wouldn’t it? After all, your presence is in everything in here; that is your mug, your chair... your side of the bed.

You always sneak into my bed at the end of your duty shift, and I’ve always pretended to grumble and say that it was ‘only for today’, though never so that you could hear me. I still say that, though these days I say it directed at myself; it is only for today that you are with me, only for today that you are next to me, warm, beautiful and breathtaking.

The thought that tomorrow you might be in someone else’s bed, someone else’s arms, just kills me and I can’t breathe. Nothing in this world could ever hurt as much as losing you.

Except... it was just a dream, wasn’t it? You were never mine. But you know, Sanya? If ever you would look to me, if you could ever consider me...

I would be yours. Completely.



Wednesday, September 3, 2008

Sleepy

Strike Witches-fanfic. A little peek into the mind of the sleepwalker.
(Eila/Sanya) Not nearly long enough to qualify as a fic, but I'll post this snippet anyway since it can be read as a part of the "White Angel" and "Waltz on the Moon" story.


Read Sleepy





Disclaimer: All things Strike Witches belong to Gonzo and a bunch of others, though I’m sure I’m not hurting anything by borrowing them for a bit.

I think this little snippet could be read as a part of the “White Angel” and “Waltz on the Moon” story, or it could be read as just a random moment, whichever you prefer.




Sleepy
--------------------------------------
by Carola “Ryûchan” Eriksson





Sleepy... so sleepy. Eyes are closing, can’t focus.

Eila? Eila is... where? Want to go to Eila. Need to. But my eyes won’t open.

Aa, Eila is there. That is her heartbeat. Steady. Wonderful. Safe.

There is an obstacle in my way, can’t get through. It is hard, but I manage to open one eye, just a little.

Ah, a door. It has a handle, too. Good. I get it open on my second try.

There is Eila. Eila sleeps, I can hear her breathing. She sleeps on her bed, big bed, soft bed, warm bed where I need to sleep too.

The room is swivelling and I am spinning. Eila’s bed is quite far away, and now my eye closes again. But that is ok, I can see Eila anyway.

I can always see Eila anyway. Inside.

Feet are heavy, clumsy, and hands are slow. My clothes are being difficult when they should be obedient and come off quickly. I want to be with my Eila already.

There, got the last of it off, now to bed. Is there something I’ve forgotten? Doesn’t matter, there is the mattress under my hands.

You are so bright Eila, even when my eyes are closed. You can always guide me.

There, this is warm and safe and perfect. This is Eila. This is home. I curl up so close that I can feel her breathing, and I am where I belong. This is what I need. Now I can sleep.

Eila? I made it back from the darkness again tonight.

I made it back home. To you.


Tuesday, September 2, 2008

Waltz on the Moon

Strike Witches-fanfic. Eila missed her chance on Sanya's birthday, but she is not giving up. Sequel to "White Angel".
(Eila/Sanya)



Read Waltz on the Moon




Disclaimer: All things Strike Witches belong to Gonzo and a bunch of others, though I’m sure I’m not hurting anything by borrowing them for a bit.

This is the sequel of sorts to “White Angel”, though I don’t know if you have to read that first to get this. Also, I’ve still not seen past the first 7 episodes of the show.



Waltz on the Moon
--------------------------------------
by Carola “Ryûchan” Eriksson





It was only natural that someone that loves Sanya should celebrate her birthday.

I said those words to Miyafuji as we all heard the notes of Sanya’s father’s piano reach her on her special day from so far away, but I’m sure Miyafuji didn’t get what I was really saying. Just like she didn’t get what I meant when I spoke of how watching Sanya sing, naked by the water and painted by the setting sun, made my heart beat faster and ache.

That’s ok though. Miyafuji is a good person, but all the same I’d rather she didn’t look at my Sanya in that light.

It would have helped if Miyafuji had been aware enough to catch some of my hints that I wanted her to give me some alone time with Sanya that day or night, although with how things happened I guess that was a bit much to ask. Either way, this is why I now, one month later, have made a special request of my superior officers.

...let me engrave into my mind to never ever ask Major Sakamoto for favours which have to do with romance, ever again. That way lies madness and public humiliation, not to mention that despite her tactical brilliance she is incredibly thick-headed when it comes to romance, so she just will not get what you are trying to explain and deny your request anyway.

Commander Minna is by far easier on one’s pride and blood pressure, also she can be very classy and understanding of things like these when she wants to be. Why I even thought to ask Major Sakamoto first I have no idea.

In the end I got my permission, with a few amendments in case of an attack by the Neuroi of course, and also to my surprise an accomplice. I may just have roughly an hour for what I have planned, but with this I am sure to get it as close to perfect as I can make it.

Thankfully we are in one of the ‘safe’ periods right now, when no Neuroi attack is expected for quite a while. My tarot cards have also told me that tonight will be safe and auspicious for matters of the heart. Trusting my luck not to be that bad I carefully pat the longish but narrow canister tied next to my holster and grin at Sanya.

“Eila?” Sanya is worried, her brows furrow slightly and I notice the twitch in the hand where she usually carries her rocket launcher. “Why are we going out on patrol unarmed?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll be back for them in a bit.” I grin at her and take her hand. “It’s alright, we’ve got what we need for right now. Trust me?”

Her reply is quiet but her answering grip on my hand steady, and to my absolute delight the lights around her head – my angel’s halo – changes colour from green to blue to finally a soft purple. She trusts me.

With a tug and an even wider grin I set us off down the runway, launching into the night sky. As we climb rapidly through the cold air towards the other side of the clouds our fingers entwine, I fight the urge to do somersaults of happiness as it is Sanya that made the move to link our fingers this way.

All too soon we break through the clouds to the other side, to this strange peaceful and silent other world of night that belongs to Sanya and that she will let me visit with her. The moonlight paints the clouds now below us to the palest silver and white, much like Sanya’s hair and skin. She was truly born to fly here.

The sight of her enchants me, and besotted I stare at her for a long moment, forgetting what I had planned until I notice her confused look and that her lights are turning more blue. I sketch a feather-light kiss on her hand before letting her go, untying the cylinder from my belt.

“Sanya” I begin as I twist the top part of the canister. “Your birthday was a month ago, and though I wanted to do something special I couldn’t at the time.” I get the top open by feel alone, as I can’t look away from the wide and shining green eyes before me. “So this is late, but I hope you’ll like it anyway.”

“Happy birthday Sanya”

I pull the single long-stemmed red rose from the container and hand it to her as elegantly as I can manage. I made sure to remove all the thorns beforehand so that there was no risk of hurting her delicate hands, which I am glad I did now as Sanya, whether aware of it or not, is touching the rose caressingly. There is a slight blush on her cheeks and the light has changed again, deepened to a charming shade of pale pink. She inhales the flower’s scent, then turn large and slightly tearful eyes on me.

“Thank you Eila.” Then she is hugging me tight, face tucked into my neck. I hug her back in silence for a long moment.

“Sanya, do me a favour?”

“Yes.” Her answer is immediate, and when she draws back slightly to meet my eyes hers are absolutely serious. I am so in love with her I could cry.

“See if you can get in a radio broadcast from around here?” She looks slightly confused again but do as I have asked, while I smile at her and hope my accomplice has done what she promised. Almost instantly the sound comes, surprisingly clear and free of static, of a woman’s sultry voice in a slow romantic song.

I carefully take the rose from her hands and put it back into the cylinder before attaching it to the side of Sanya’s belt. Her eyes never leave mine. Then I take her hand, bow slightly and with my best smile ask “May I have this dance?”

I may, and we fit together perfectly, twirling away in a waltz on top of clouds so white they remind me of the snow back home. I lead and she moves with me, spinning, sailing, gliding in a dance no-one has danced before us, alone in our magical world. As one song ends another begins, but we do not stop in between them. Sanya’s cheeks are flushed and her smile is wide and happy, the music we dance to occasionally accompanied by her tinkling laughter.

When finally we slow down our dance has taken us high in the air, so that the fullness of the moon appears to be embracing us. As if we had agreed upon it out loud we pull one another closer, her arms around my neck and mine around her tiny waist. Her soft humming tickles my ear as we dance oh so slowly cheek to cheek.

Eventually the song comes to an end, and silence replaces it. I know that this means that our time is running out, but that is a distant concern at best as I am still standing with Sanya in my arms, bathed in moonlight in our black and white world.

I look at her and feel so overcome by my emotions that I know they will be plainly visible on my face and in my eyes. I can tell by the look in hers that she sees it, so it is time to speak up.

“I love you, Sanya.”

My angel gasps and her eyes grow even wider. She blushes so adorably and amazingly enough the lights around her swiftly turn a deep red in hue, a colour I am sure they have never been before. A slender hand cups my face and she whispers something to me in Orussian that I do not know, yet understand anyway.

Then we are kissing, sweetly, deeply and passionately. A vague notion of not overwhelming Sanya with too much too soon flickers through my mind very briefly, but Sanya has no such concerns, her arms wrapped tightly around my neck and her hands guiding my head in our continued exchange. I couldn’t stop now even if I wanted to.

Sanya loves me.

And here in the moonlit embrace of an angel, I am the closest to heaven.


----------------------------------------------------------


From her vantage point at the base Minna-Dietlinde Wilcke shakes her head in amusement at the kissing young couple outlined against the full moon. She had stopped broadcasting music for this little lovers rendezvous some time ago, yet the two girls did not look like they were about to come up for air anytime soon.

She really should signal them to come retrieve their weapons and go on patrol by now, but a few minutes extra wouldn’t hurt any. Maybe she was just a romantic at heart after all, but if the Neuroi could have the decency not to interrupt the young couple finding some happiness in their bleak world, well, then Minna would at the very least give them a few minutes.

As she carefully removes the record from the gramophone she wonders if she will have the time to bring out the camera to commemorate the event on Eila and Sanya’s behalf. If nothing else a picture like that should provide for some... interesting... reactions.

Smiling Minna casts another glance at the silhouetted young couple.

Hmm.

Maybe just a few minutes more...