(no subject)

[salinea]

I think I might might be in fic writing mood. So if anyone's got a character/pairing & word/expression prompt to give me, I'd be grateful. I make no promises I can't keep, but since I've no idea for which fandom I wanna write, you can go wild (though it is very seldom I write for a fandom I haven't read a few fics for before).

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[etrangere.livejournal.com]

Juri had never been rebellious. Whatever defiance, whatever boldness she's ever held, as a member of the Student's council, as President of the Fencing Club, as the student praised and feared by teachers, even as a model – none of this was ever done out of rebellion. She followed the rules. Brilliantly, dashingly, but she'd only followed the roads opened to her, and it just was that those roads had been many, had been praised, and the doors wide open to her at the merest try. Things came easily to her, so she'd never learned how to dare to reach for them.

The one thing that was difficult, the one way she broke the rules given to her, the one girl she longed for thought she knew she ought not to … she'd only been able to wait passively for it to be handed to her; and that was ever to be denied until she turned sour and spiteful for it, like a spoiled child.

Believe in miracles and they will know your feelings. But miracles took work, she'd learned, took blood and sweat and sacrifices.

That's what she admired in Utena.

Utena hadn't only defied the rules by affectation (thought there was that, in the vanity of her male school uniform). Hadn't only been handed her miracle for free (thought it riled, still, that she had had that much, that early). Utena had struggled, fought during each duels, for her miracle.

Could Juri do any less?

Could she only dare to accept what was her due, her privilege, and never reach for the forbidden thought it might cost her so?

After Ruka had given her his cruel gift of freedom, could she never learn to hope not for miracles, but for the magic of her own work, thought she may fail?

So she kept a new locket, not for love, not for wishing, but as a talisman for courage and insolence. And a long time after the revolution, when she couldn't even remember who the strange girl on the picture was, she kept that lesson to heart.

So she laughed, proudly, and asked the girls she liked out, so they might know her feelings.

And sometimes they even said yes.