2011-10-07 09:43 pm (UTC)
Overture, Sun Sword, Alina/Mirialyn (prompt 3)
It starts with small things: a flicker of a smile, barely seen. A touch lasting a moment longer than needed.
Mirialyn's smile, of course, Mirialyn's touch. Alina has better control. She casts her eyes down and leans away.
Any woman of the Dominion would take the rebuke in the silence it was offered, but Mirialyn is of the north and knows no subtlety. She tightens her grip, asks
"We are not wives together," Alina tells her finally, words too obvious to be spoken.
"No," Mirialyn agrees. She does not move her hand. "But I thought we might be friends."
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