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lexiewritesTitle: The Labyrinth
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lexie_b
Feedback: If you feel so moved.
Characters: Michiru, Haruka
Word Count: 524
Rating: PG
Genre: Romance
Summary: A breeze rustled through the maze, and she pressed her back against the wall of the maze, trying to elude the wind.
Disclaimer: Naoko Takeuchi owns the characters and scenarios of Sailor Moon. I am a humble fan and thus make no profit from this venture.
Her feet hit the grass as she brushed past the hedges, barely making a whisper of sound. One hand clutched her shoes, the other holding her dress up so she could run more easily, a tiny smile on her face as she moves down the path.
The mazes in the gardens of the Moon Palace were legendary – designed and grown by a renowned Venusian artist. They twisted around the base of the gardens, an intricate design of interlocking circles – the center of the maze in the shape of a crescent moon, paved in white stone, where many picnics and secret midnight liaisons had taken place. If you didn’t know where you were going, it was easy to get lost for hours.
Michiru smiled as she looked behind her, still running. A breeze rustled through the maze, and she pressed her back against the wall of the maze, trying to elude the wind. It almost never worked, but this was half the fun.
She slipped down another path, to where a tiny fountain, and concentrated carefully on the water spirally from the fountain. A streamer of water rose up in the air, twisting itself into exotic patterns in the air, where anyone in the maze could see it before Michiru guided it back into the fountain and ran on.
She ran her fingers alone the wall of the maze, her hair fanning out behind her like a banner, the breeze tugging at the long skirt of her dress, the ribbon around her waist. Her movements are fluid, graceful, as if she’d not really human but some sort of sprite or nymph.
She gets the a fork in the maze and, without pausing, slips down the one to her left, looking over her shoulder for a second to see if the wind is following her, blowing flowers and leaves after her.
A body steps out in front of her, wrapping their arm around her waist. Her momentum throws them both backwards, tumbling into the grass; shoes flung away, dresses tangling around legs, arms around waists.
And then they are still, catching their breath and holding each other, Michiru entangling her fingers with Haruka’s, her head on Haruka’s shoulder.
“You caught me.” Her voice is a little bit breathless and a little bit coy, and she tilts her head back for a kiss. Haruka says nothing, pressing her lips to those of the aqua-haired princess in her arms. She slides the ribbon straps off Michiru’s shoulders and they take a few moments for themselves, moments of murmured endearments, half-spoken promises and the occasional whispered confession. Haruka lets Michiru trace her face with her fingers, running over her jaw, lips, cheeks, neck; press kisses into the hollow of her throat.
They leave the labyrinth together, Haruka’s arm around Michiru’s waist. A few flowers and leaves have weaved themselves into Michiru’s hair; no doubt when the wind finally caught up with her. Their dresses creased, their shoes in their hands, leaning against each other, private smiles on both their faces.
They take their time in leaving, but it is always easier to find their way out when they are together.
Author:
lexie_bFeedback: If you feel so moved.
Characters: Michiru, Haruka
Word Count: 524
Rating: PG
Genre: Romance
Summary: A breeze rustled through the maze, and she pressed her back against the wall of the maze, trying to elude the wind.
Disclaimer: Naoko Takeuchi owns the characters and scenarios of Sailor Moon. I am a humble fan and thus make no profit from this venture.
Her feet hit the grass as she brushed past the hedges, barely making a whisper of sound. One hand clutched her shoes, the other holding her dress up so she could run more easily, a tiny smile on her face as she moves down the path.
The mazes in the gardens of the Moon Palace were legendary – designed and grown by a renowned Venusian artist. They twisted around the base of the gardens, an intricate design of interlocking circles – the center of the maze in the shape of a crescent moon, paved in white stone, where many picnics and secret midnight liaisons had taken place. If you didn’t know where you were going, it was easy to get lost for hours.
Michiru smiled as she looked behind her, still running. A breeze rustled through the maze, and she pressed her back against the wall of the maze, trying to elude the wind. It almost never worked, but this was half the fun.
She slipped down another path, to where a tiny fountain, and concentrated carefully on the water spirally from the fountain. A streamer of water rose up in the air, twisting itself into exotic patterns in the air, where anyone in the maze could see it before Michiru guided it back into the fountain and ran on.
She ran her fingers alone the wall of the maze, her hair fanning out behind her like a banner, the breeze tugging at the long skirt of her dress, the ribbon around her waist. Her movements are fluid, graceful, as if she’d not really human but some sort of sprite or nymph.
She gets the a fork in the maze and, without pausing, slips down the one to her left, looking over her shoulder for a second to see if the wind is following her, blowing flowers and leaves after her.
A body steps out in front of her, wrapping their arm around her waist. Her momentum throws them both backwards, tumbling into the grass; shoes flung away, dresses tangling around legs, arms around waists.
And then they are still, catching their breath and holding each other, Michiru entangling her fingers with Haruka’s, her head on Haruka’s shoulder.
“You caught me.” Her voice is a little bit breathless and a little bit coy, and she tilts her head back for a kiss. Haruka says nothing, pressing her lips to those of the aqua-haired princess in her arms. She slides the ribbon straps off Michiru’s shoulders and they take a few moments for themselves, moments of murmured endearments, half-spoken promises and the occasional whispered confession. Haruka lets Michiru trace her face with her fingers, running over her jaw, lips, cheeks, neck; press kisses into the hollow of her throat.
They leave the labyrinth together, Haruka’s arm around Michiru’s waist. A few flowers and leaves have weaved themselves into Michiru’s hair; no doubt when the wind finally caught up with her. Their dresses creased, their shoes in their hands, leaning against each other, private smiles on both their faces.
They take their time in leaving, but it is always easier to find their way out when they are together.
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