Akechi Mitsuhide (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wavesoakedlegs) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
vatheon2012-12-25 12:54 pm
wavesoakedlegs) wrote in vatheon2012-12-25 12:54 pm
Entry tags:
snow, gifts and mistletoe
Who: Mitsuhide (wavesoakedlegs) and Motochika (behisstrength).
When: Today, late morning.
Where: Their household.
Style: Prose, though feel free to change if you wish, dear!
Status: Closed!
~
Over two years had passed since Mitsuhide had arrived in Vatheon, and he still only knew a few things about Christmas.
The most important one was that it was a winter festival of giving, and he was quite content to celebrate such a festival. Gifting those you loved could only ever be a good thing, after all. It had taken him quite some time to settle on the right presents for his family, and now he was sat in his room staring at two particular parcels. These were for his lover and betrothed, Motochika.
He was rather nervous about both of them, for different reasons. The larger contained a slim book that he'd bound himself. It was filled with poetry of a rather unusual kind, something he had written but not dared share with Motochika before. Even now he wasn't sure if he would be able to stand in the same room as his lover whilst the older samurai read it; it would be far too embarrassing.
As for the other one, well... he simply wasn't sure how well it would be received.
Picking them up, the samurai turned them over in his hands before standing and heading downstairs. Mitsuhide had dressed in an appropriate manner for a festival; his kimono and hakama were exquisite and his hair left loose. No doubt Motochika would appreciate that by itself. The Hero of Tosa was never shy about conveying his appreciation for the way Mitsuhide dressed.
(Though if truth be told, Motochika seemed to appreciated Mitsuhide in anything he wore, which was rather shameless of him).
"Lord Motochika?" he called out when he reached the bottom floor, peering curiously into their living room.
wavesoakedlegs) and Motochika (behisstrength).When: Today, late morning.
Where: Their household.
Style: Prose, though feel free to change if you wish, dear!
Status: Closed!
Over two years had passed since Mitsuhide had arrived in Vatheon, and he still only knew a few things about Christmas.
The most important one was that it was a winter festival of giving, and he was quite content to celebrate such a festival. Gifting those you loved could only ever be a good thing, after all. It had taken him quite some time to settle on the right presents for his family, and now he was sat in his room staring at two particular parcels. These were for his lover and betrothed, Motochika.
He was rather nervous about both of them, for different reasons. The larger contained a slim book that he'd bound himself. It was filled with poetry of a rather unusual kind, something he had written but not dared share with Motochika before. Even now he wasn't sure if he would be able to stand in the same room as his lover whilst the older samurai read it; it would be far too embarrassing.
As for the other one, well... he simply wasn't sure how well it would be received.
Picking them up, the samurai turned them over in his hands before standing and heading downstairs. Mitsuhide had dressed in an appropriate manner for a festival; his kimono and hakama were exquisite and his hair left loose. No doubt Motochika would appreciate that by itself. The Hero of Tosa was never shy about conveying his appreciation for the way Mitsuhide dressed.
(Though if truth be told, Motochika seemed to appreciated Mitsuhide in anything he wore, which was rather shameless of him).
"Lord Motochika?" he called out when he reached the bottom floor, peering curiously into their living room.
no subject
"Mitsuhide," he answered, a smile emerging on his face as his gaze roamed over his betrothed. "Come and join me."
His own presents for Mitsuhide sat wrapped beneath their tree, waiting.
no subject
His own packages he placed in his lap, resting his hands on the top of them.
"Have you been up long, my love?" he asked softly. Today had been a bit of an unusual day, with Mitsuhide sleeping in for a change. Usually he rose with the dawn, but his sheets had felt extra comfortable when he had woken earlier.
no subject
"No. An hour at most. Did you enjoy your lie-in?"
His hands stilled, his melody ending; he set his shamisen and bachi aside and angled his body towards Mitsuhide.
It was rare that he woke up before his lover, let alone rose whilst Mitsuhide slept on. And if he'd finally captured a photograph of Mitsuhide adrift in dreams, well, he was keeping that to himself, a private delight.
There was no evidence of Mitsuhide's earlier languor now; dressed with meticulous care and attention to detail Mitsuhide was the very vision of noble elegance, not even a single hair out of place.
Motochika knew himself to be an immensely fortunate indeed; his self-satisfaction was entirely justified when this man was his in body and soul.
Motochika let his appreciation be known, his rich voice warm and loving. "You look truly magnificent."
no subject
"Yes. I cannot remember the last time I had one."
He had drifted back to sleep fairly quickly after his initial wake-up, falling into a dream-filled 'nap.' All of the dreams had been light, warm and without much detail that he could recall right now (beyond Motochika wearing an absolutely horrifying bright green wool jumper and holly in his ears).
Dreams could be very odd, sometimes.
"You flatter me, my Lord."
Mitsuhide flushed as he spoke; it was only a light blush, but his unusually pale skin made the reddish colour prominent as always. Such bare, personal compliments would always embarrass him a little.
no subject
"Today is a day of indulgence."
no subject
Mitsuhide paused, and glanced down at the packages in his lap.
"I have gifts for you, but..."
He bit his lip. It was best to be honest about this, wasn't it?
"In this case, I would prefer it if you opened them alone. Perhaps I should make tea while you do so?"
no subject
The way Mitsuhide bit his lip said it all; Motochika listened, wondering what gifts could embarrass his lover so. Curiosity piqued, his hand fell from Mitsuhide's face with a parting brush of his fingertips.
He smirked.
"Hah. Go ahead, Mitsuhide. I do not want you to feel uncomfortable."
no subject
"Thank you."
Mitsuhide lifted the gifts and pressed them into Motochika's hands before standing up, smiling in a slightly shy manner, and leaving the room. He headed straight for the kitchen, doing as he'd said he would once there.
He had grown bolder in many says since he and Motochika had become lovers, but Mitsuhide remained rather awkward when it came to certain things.
no subject
It took but a moment to upwrap it, unveiling a small box, which he then opened to reveal a ring. He freed the ring and held it before his eyes, turning it between his thumb and forefinger; its design spoke perfectly of his tastes, and the glistening sapphires embelled within were a stunning touch.
Given Gracia's enthusiastic research into wedding traditions in every culture imaginable, the significance of a ring was not lost upon him, and Mitsuhide hadn't compromised on finding a unique, resonant ring. It was truly a romantic gesture. For that reason, Motochika placed it back into the box, leaving the lid off -- perhaps he could yet convince Mitsuhide to slide it onto his finger, despite Mitsuhide's embarrassed aversion to grandly intimate gestures.
Motochika smiled brightly to himself, his heart brimming with love, and moved on to the larger present.
A book: within, poetry written in Mitsuhide's familiar, elegant hand.
Motochika's eyebrows rose as he read the first verse of the collection, and a surprised, but pleased laugh escaped him.
Mitsuhide, even after all their years together, still could surprise him; he loved every glimpse of Mitsuhide's defiant soul.
It was not simply poetry, or even just love poetry, but intimate poetry in both senses of the word.
For all the Mitsuhide was open and vocal about his enjoyment during their lovemaking, Mitsuhide was immensely shy of it before and after, and normally took coaxing to share any admission at all of his need or his desire.
Motochika knew that Mitsuhide wrote erotic poetry -- poetry for Mitsuhide was what music was for Motochika, the expression of his innermost self -- and even where it was kept, so its existence did not surprise him. Yet close as they were, Mitsuhide was an intensely private man and had guarded it fiercely, unwilling to share it even with Motochika.
To receive it as a gift was a new level of trust, of intimacy between them.
Fitting, given that they were soon to wed.
No wonder that Mitsuhide had made such a swift retreat.
Motochika's delight was impossible to contain; it spilled from every part of him: his eyes and his smile, his body language, his energy and his air.
no subject
He had known that Motochika would appreciate the gift, but that knowledge did not lessen Mitsuhide's embarrassment. In mere moments he would have to go back into the living room and sit with his lover, knowing full well that Motochika had now read some of Mitsuhide's erotic poetry. Nothing would make that situation easy for him.
It was certainly worth the trouble, however, if it pleased Motochika that much. Such a gift had a lot of meaning.
(Motochika was unlikely to get a repeat of it anytime soon, though).
When the tea was ready, Mitsuhide set it on a tray, picked it up and walked back into the living room. He did not immediately make eye-contact with his lover, instead heading to the coffee table and setting the tray upon it.
"I hope the tea is to your satisfaction," he murmured softly.
no subject
Motochika closed the book of poetry and left it upon his lap as his eyes turned to Mitsuhide. His gaze was both heated and expectant, a look that no doubt could be felt, even if it was not seen by Mitsuhide's averted eyes.
"Thank you for your gifts, my love," he spoke, with vibrant adoration, "I am awash in a sea of joy, swept up by the depth of their intimacy."
He picked up the open ringbox and set it on top of the book, then patted the portion of sofa right beside him in invitation. There was an audible whump.
Motochika wanted Mitsuhide close, whether or not Mitsuhide felt shy.
no subject
"You are welcome," he said, feeling extremely awkward as he took a seat next to Motochika. "I found it somewhat difficult to get my gift choices completely right, but... it seems the effort has not gone to waste."
Mitsuhide folded his hands in his lap.
"All of the poetry in that book... it was written especially for this occasion."
no subject
"I shall take my time and savour every word," he promised with underlying heat.
He pressed down against Mitsuhide's palms in wordless command before he withdrew his hands. He fetched the open box containing his ring and set it down in Mitsuhide's grasp.
"Mitsuhide. Let us embrace this custom in its entirety..."
Motochika rested one hand upon Mitsuhide's knee, and held out the other in an anticipatory gesture.
"Set this ring in its rightful place on my finger with your own hands."
no subject
"Oh, I was not aware this was a part of the tradition..."
Hesitating for a few moments, Mitsuhide did then pluck the unusual ring out of its box. He regarded it before looking over at his lover.
"Does it... is it supposed to sit upon a certain finger?"
no subject
"Yes," he answered, endeared, before he flexed his ring finger pointedly. "Make your claim."
As he encouraged Mitsuhide to proceed Motochika rubbed Mitsuhide's knee, a tiny, affectionate outflow of the fierce love he felt for his betrothed.
no subject
Mitsuhide himself was very much the opposite in those areas. He might be a solemn, determined and above all noble warrior, but put him in situations like this and he became a somewhat shy and entirely awkward young man.
So, while he did indeed slide the ring onto Motochika's finger, he did so with a flushed face and a rather nervous aura.
"There," he said afterwards, smiling slightly.
Some things would remain ever constant, and this particular trait of his was one of those things.
no subject
His gaze shifted to his hand and the new, striking adornment he wore; after a long moment of admiration, he cupped Mitsuhide's face with said hand, and raised his eyes to Mitsuhide's face.
What a magnificent sight it was.
no subject
"There were times in the past, Motochika, when you looked at me as you are doing now," he said softly. "Before Vatheon, back in Japan."
During those times, of course, Mitsuhide had not known what that had meant. But he didn't need to say that; Motochika knew, after all.
"But you could not have known something like this would happen. Fate is a strange creature, isn't it?"