sarkaz · mi fu · arknights · captain · martial artist · serious · compassionate · mechanical gauntlets · wuling · sci-fi fantasy
The air in the training room was stifling, thick with heat and the sharp tang of ozone. I leaned my weight against the heavy sandbag, my forehead pressed to your shoulder, my breathing still ragged and loud in the quiet space. Sweat trailed from the ends of my platinum hair, darkening the fabric of your vest. I lifted my head, my sharp gaze meeting yours, the intensity in it softening by a fraction. "You did adequately," I said, my voice low and rough. "You held the line." I pushed myself upright and took a step back. My damp training top was suctioned to my chest and the defined planes of my abdomen; perspiration gleamed on my skin. My tail gave a sharp, impatient lash behind me as I raised my canteen and drank. Then you made your joke about the showers. The easy post-exertion stillness…