You can save this for tomorrow...
Oct. 12th, 2004 05:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
butterflydreaming...or have it today. I hope this ends your day better than it has been for you.
A little Sonomi & Tomoyo ficlet for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
violeteves, because it is her birthday on Wednesday!
There were always meetings, constant meetings, and important decisions to be made to further the success of Daidouji Toy Corporation. A new line of school accessories needed consideration. A management staffing issue in the company's Malaysian factory demanded attention. At four o'clock, Sonomi was done with measuring out her life with coffee spoons. The Board would have to run the company without her for the rest of the day, Sonomi decided. She had given them a six-day week already, and ten hours of the day; she told her secretary that she was leaving, grabbed her bag, and strode guiltlessly on her Versace high heels out to the elevator.
She kept her motorcycle gear, including an extra helmet, in the trunk of her car, and the parking space for her bike was next to the space for her car in the basement parking garage. She went back into the building to change in the ladies room -- business skirt and nylons for leather pants, silk blouse for a close-fitting T-shirt and her jacket. She slipped into her boots. In the parking garage again, she waved to the security guard while hitting a preset number on her cellular phone. "Get dressed," she said, after being connected to the right person. "Wear your leathers. We're going riding along the coast."
Sonomi kept to the speed limit, but traffic melted around her; her BMW moved smoothly through it, eel-like through the schools of cars, the sound and heat of the road washing over her like hot currents. The streets widened, changing from city to suburb. On a cherry tree lined street, she pulled up to a waiting figure, braced the weight of the motorcycle with one leg, and snapped up her visor. She eyed her daughter appraisingly. "They fit well," she said, of the soft, charcoal grey leather gear that Tomoyo was wearing.
"They're comfortable," answered the girl, smoothing the protective coat and pants. "Thank you, Okasama." Her voice held its usual gentleness, and her words were serene, but her excitement was obvious in the scintillation of her dark eyes. Tomoyo had her thick, long hair pinned up into a French twist, to accommodate the helmet that her mother handed to her to put on.
"Let's get this show on the road," suggested Sonomi with her own anticipatory excitement. She winked before sliding her visor down again. Once Tomoyo was safely settled onto the bike behind Sonomi, the pair pulled out and headed toward the highway that would lead them to the shoreline. Tomoyo leaned her small weight against her mother's back, her hands tightly locked around Sonomi's ribs. They couldn't talk, but the helmets were equiped with wireless speakers; they rode with a soundtrack of rich symphony, orchestra playing a Baroque composer that was a favorite of Tomoyo. They stopped only briefly for Sonomi to run into a cafe and pick up a waiting order.
It took less than an hour to leave the thickly populated areas behind. They passed peaceful beach towns and the occasional fine house. The road was almost completely clear; Sonomi took the easy curves smoothly. Tomoyo had started to get the rhythm of riding, her center-of-gravity almost synchronous with Sonomi's. At a place where a length of sand stretched beyond the barrier of seawall, Sonomi parked the motorcycle on the shoulder. They took their dinner down to the beach, where they helped each other spread out a cloth to sit on, and then rid themselves of their hot jackets, boots, and socks before sitting down to eat. The meal included a slice of cake, with a candle in it, for Tomoyo. While Tomoyo thought of a wish to make, Sonomi sang to her daughter.
When it was time to go, Sonomi lingered on the shoreline, standing just out of reach of the reaching waves. She strolled back and forth over a short area; she stretched and prepared herself for the lazy return ride. With a smile, she looked up at Tomoyo, the young woman that was her daughter, who was waiting for her placidly, perched on the bike, with one leg bend over the seat as if she were riding a horse side-saddle. Tendrils of hair stuck to her cheeks with perspiration and salt spray. Her hands went up to unpin her hair, to cool her head briefly before confining it in a helmet again, and in the brackish breeze that flowed over the cresting waves, her hair gusted upward in lightly rippling currents. The sun, setting behind her, cast her an aura of lavender and gold. The night was coming up over the water, a sprinkle of stars beginning to glitter in the darker blue. Her expression was lovely as she looked out at the ocean in quiet happiness, a contented smile on her unpainted lips -- like Mona Lisa, on a motorcycle.
* * *
(I fully intend a parallel, now: Touya and Tomoyo, and the sun rising.)
A little Sonomi & Tomoyo ficlet for
violeteves, because it is her birthday on Wednesday!There were always meetings, constant meetings, and important decisions to be made to further the success of Daidouji Toy Corporation. A new line of school accessories needed consideration. A management staffing issue in the company's Malaysian factory demanded attention. At four o'clock, Sonomi was done with measuring out her life with coffee spoons. The Board would have to run the company without her for the rest of the day, Sonomi decided. She had given them a six-day week already, and ten hours of the day; she told her secretary that she was leaving, grabbed her bag, and strode guiltlessly on her Versace high heels out to the elevator.
She kept her motorcycle gear, including an extra helmet, in the trunk of her car, and the parking space for her bike was next to the space for her car in the basement parking garage. She went back into the building to change in the ladies room -- business skirt and nylons for leather pants, silk blouse for a close-fitting T-shirt and her jacket. She slipped into her boots. In the parking garage again, she waved to the security guard while hitting a preset number on her cellular phone. "Get dressed," she said, after being connected to the right person. "Wear your leathers. We're going riding along the coast."
Sonomi kept to the speed limit, but traffic melted around her; her BMW moved smoothly through it, eel-like through the schools of cars, the sound and heat of the road washing over her like hot currents. The streets widened, changing from city to suburb. On a cherry tree lined street, she pulled up to a waiting figure, braced the weight of the motorcycle with one leg, and snapped up her visor. She eyed her daughter appraisingly. "They fit well," she said, of the soft, charcoal grey leather gear that Tomoyo was wearing.
"They're comfortable," answered the girl, smoothing the protective coat and pants. "Thank you, Okasama." Her voice held its usual gentleness, and her words were serene, but her excitement was obvious in the scintillation of her dark eyes. Tomoyo had her thick, long hair pinned up into a French twist, to accommodate the helmet that her mother handed to her to put on.
"Let's get this show on the road," suggested Sonomi with her own anticipatory excitement. She winked before sliding her visor down again. Once Tomoyo was safely settled onto the bike behind Sonomi, the pair pulled out and headed toward the highway that would lead them to the shoreline. Tomoyo leaned her small weight against her mother's back, her hands tightly locked around Sonomi's ribs. They couldn't talk, but the helmets were equiped with wireless speakers; they rode with a soundtrack of rich symphony, orchestra playing a Baroque composer that was a favorite of Tomoyo. They stopped only briefly for Sonomi to run into a cafe and pick up a waiting order.
It took less than an hour to leave the thickly populated areas behind. They passed peaceful beach towns and the occasional fine house. The road was almost completely clear; Sonomi took the easy curves smoothly. Tomoyo had started to get the rhythm of riding, her center-of-gravity almost synchronous with Sonomi's. At a place where a length of sand stretched beyond the barrier of seawall, Sonomi parked the motorcycle on the shoulder. They took their dinner down to the beach, where they helped each other spread out a cloth to sit on, and then rid themselves of their hot jackets, boots, and socks before sitting down to eat. The meal included a slice of cake, with a candle in it, for Tomoyo. While Tomoyo thought of a wish to make, Sonomi sang to her daughter.
When it was time to go, Sonomi lingered on the shoreline, standing just out of reach of the reaching waves. She strolled back and forth over a short area; she stretched and prepared herself for the lazy return ride. With a smile, she looked up at Tomoyo, the young woman that was her daughter, who was waiting for her placidly, perched on the bike, with one leg bend over the seat as if she were riding a horse side-saddle. Tendrils of hair stuck to her cheeks with perspiration and salt spray. Her hands went up to unpin her hair, to cool her head briefly before confining it in a helmet again, and in the brackish breeze that flowed over the cresting waves, her hair gusted upward in lightly rippling currents. The sun, setting behind her, cast her an aura of lavender and gold. The night was coming up over the water, a sprinkle of stars beginning to glitter in the darker blue. Her expression was lovely as she looked out at the ocean in quiet happiness, a contented smile on her unpainted lips -- like Mona Lisa, on a motorcycle.
* * *
(I fully intend a parallel, now: Touya and Tomoyo, and the sun rising.)
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-10-12 05:26 pm (UTC)Apropos, when's your birthday?
no subject
Date: 2004-10-12 05:33 pm (UTC)And that last line rocks my world. You should so post this in the shrine.
*squealbounceexcite* This is the first birthday present I've gotten so far.
birthday
Date: 2004-10-13 04:14 pm (UTC)Then again, you already got "Frost of Years"...
no subject
Date: 2004-10-13 05:45 pm (UTC)Touya & Tomoyo
Date: 2004-10-13 05:55 pm (UTC)Looks like I'll be busy for Christmas.
When did I turn into a T/T writer???