#AUYEAHAUGUST21

[lonelypond]

Calypso

NicoMaki, Love Live, 5.3K, 1/1

Exiled by angry parents, Nishikino Maki washes up on an isolated island.

Calypso

“I refuse.”

Nishikino Maki still heard her own words, her own shout, echoing here, where the angry winds, laden with a storm of punishment had pushed her. By the docks, up to her knees in surging, stinging sea water, hungry, angry birds rushing from the open sea for safe havens, their wings sharp against her soaked skin, their fearful velocity another wind pummeling her. She would fall. Her fingers would ache for that which had been torn from them. And perhaps a crueler wind would take her, push her out, away from this cramped place where her defiance echoed. She fell back, for just a minute, letting a surge push her, hoping for a breath to rest before fighting again, but then another surge, and a crosscurrent that ripped her coat away, a strike of lightning that bit into her and a spar that slashed her torso, and a wind that drove her against a door, a vine coiled around the frame, bright green, heavy with grapes ripe for plucking, lit with a banked glow as if sunlight still lingered to bless it. Maki fell, but the landing was softer than she expected and new winds, soft with scents of cypress, citrus, and pine welcomed her to a kinder darkness.

###

Maki, surprised to be lying on a bed of soft cloths, sat up, her ears sharp for any sound. Only a song, in the distant, a beautiful, lilting melody full of longing that should have pleased Maki but only reminded her of what she was now missing, a worse loss than if her parents had ripped her arms from her side. The top linen fell away and Maki shivered, suddenly cold. Her shirt had been removed and her torso was wrapped in a bandage, ichor starting to leak through the layers. Had the singer done this?

“Hello!?!??!?!” Maki called, confused. From the sounds around her, she could still hear the sea, but as if she were near a calm shore, with birds flying and insects buzzing through meadows and trees, not the bustling port she had last been standing in. Where had the floodwaters washed her?

The song stopped. Maki waited, alert for the sounds heralding the singer’s approach. The steps were light, swishing through grass and flowers, petals and pollen perfuming air and ankles. No sound of a door, but then, at the archway, a small beauty, long sable hair loose, flowing silver robe, a golden belt around the waist, deep carved rubies for eyes.

“Welcome. Nico is glad to see you awake.”

Maki pulled up the sheet, “How long have I been here.”

Nico...that was the name, right? Maki thought, moved to the bed, reaching under the sheet to check Maki’s wound, “Not long enough to heal.”

Maki fought a sudden urge to apologize. “I didn’t ask for help.”

A raised eyebrow. An expression full of textures, laid over weariness like concealing makeup on an actor’s skin. A lilt in the voice. Flirty. Maki recognized all the signals, they’d washed over her so many times, calm tides, flowing, then ebbing from so many beauties. Was she really the icy stone this exquisitely, aesthetically pleasing stranger might be carved out of.

“Here, you must be hungry.” Nico left, returning with a tray heaped with ambrosia, a goblet in her other hand. “Drink this.”

Maki took the goblet in both hands, cautious, but the scent of the finest wines and fruits wafted up. Nectar. Deep red, a match for the rubies watching her. Bowing a thanks, Maki drank, feeling the immediate effect of the immortal delicacy.

“You’ll be fine now.” A quick hand tousled Maki’s hair and then she was alone.

###

Maki sat on the shore, amidst the cries of hawks and gulls, hunting, splashing in the sea, and then returning to this grove, sacred alders, poplar, and pine, returning to home, to cede the sea to owls hungry after rest. Her fingers ached. A natural music surrounded her, buffeting her, taunting her with notes she could not pluck from air to join the melody.

“Maki!”

Nico’s voice disturbed nothing, drove none of the singers away, it was as natural a feature of this grove as all the winged songbirds and hunters. Hunter. Maki felt hunted, here always, found always, and never understood. A hand grasped hers. Maki had stopped pulling away, but her fingers laid limp in Nico’s grasp.

“Longing for wings?”

“A voice.”

Nico tilted her head, still puzzled, after this year’s pass of the seasons, by her latest visitor. “You have a lovely one.”

Maki almost raised her hands, to show the empty space between them, but still reluctant to share. Her own parents raising all of their might to assail her, who could she trust? Had she washed up here as a trap, the storm ready to rip her away if she ever relaxed her vigilance?

Nico shrugged, eyes now on the sea, Maki uncertain what thoughts raced underneath the pleasant mask that only showed hints of fiery passion, like the pulsing sun pushing through the dark night’s horizon.

“Nico has made you a home here, a place to heal, but you still grieve.”

“Why are you alone?” Aside from animated wood carvings that seemed to serve as servants, Maki had seen no gods or humans since that stormy night. Was Nico a jailer or an exile?

“Nico loves the peace, the chance to weave and sing, the beauty and the bounty.” Nico inhaled, Maki found herself doing the same, a bright, sharp mix of pine and sea invigorating, “No place compares to here.” Maki, sensitive to every note, could hear the lie.

“No truths live on this island.” Maki’s fingers turned fist in Nico’s grasp.

Nico spun, her fingers now capturing Maki’s face, a gentle touch, but demanding, as ruby fires sought to spark a response, “κρυβόμαστε. We all hide.”

The ancient tongue jarred, Maki’s mind made a picture of it rather than an understanding, their cave, hidden, grown over with vines, surging waves and solitude another fortification.

Then Nico kissed her, lips ripe with honeyed fruits. Maki closed her eyes and heart to awareness, the sweetness merely a plucked grape on her tongue.

###

Maki woke, restless, muscles sore, sunlight bright through the crown of trees that surrounded this platform. She rose, Nico still oblivious next to her, smiling softly, sleeping, wrapped in some secret satisfaction left by their joining last night. Curious, dared by a dangerous boredom to unite, Maki had sweated and sobbed and finally, exhausted by exertion, relaxed into a slumber that skimmed above the depths of dreams, but she woke clear eyed, untouched by any comfort, still the ache, a longing for her hands to reach for what had been stripped from her.

The drop to the ground was easy, her landing cushioned. She had yet to explore this part of the island. Rocks that reached out from the shore until the sea swallowed them, diving pale birds eager for their morning meal. Beyond the rocks, down the beach, Maki saw a shadow. Was this another cave, exposed by the low tide? Was this an exit? Maki hurried, eyes only on what she might find, the freedom that might be open to her, not a glance backward for the woman she’d dropped away from.

A cave, shallow, the air thick with sea and saltwater and perhaps, a thin, sour strain of smog and sweat and scores of hasty mortals. Maki, splashing in her own haste to rejoin the throng, reached the back wall, its stone cold, with the irregularity of uncarved nature. She could barely see, morning sunlight had not joined her as the tide rose, but her fingers quested. To her left, she felt wood. A door. But locked. Marshalling what magic of will she had, she forced her intent into the grain, perhaps this wood, though not supple, could be charmed to strum an exit open between notes. But it remained dull, unmoving, beneath her fingers, deaf to her demands, while she could feel the world she’d been pushed out of throbbing on the other side, with rhythms fast and fond to her, a familiar call chased away by Nico’s voice, grating as it interrupted her effort.

“Maki? The tide’s coming in.”

Nico was not surprised by the door.

Maki whirled, “Open this. Let me go.”

Nico glowed faintly, as if she had carried sunlight there. “Go where? To the people who called the storm on you, who stabbed you with lightning?”

Maki held her hands out to strum, then letting them fall helplessly to her side. “To where I have power, where I can sing. They took it from me.”

Nico had both Maki’s hands in a gentle grasp. “Took what?”

“Music. My lyre.” Maki wrenched away. The strings the opposite of this dissonance, always perfectly tuned, the exuberance of their enharmonic engagement, the life brought to poetry.

“We can make a new one, one you craft yourself…”

“To sing songs in this private prison? To be blind to anything but prettiness?”

The waves were up to Nico’s waist, Maki’s anguished angry gestures splashing both of them until their hair was dripping, plastered against their faces. Nico, suddenly, grabbed Maki’s hand, to pull her out, into the sun, running for the uncovered beach, Maki stumbling to catch up. Maki was always stumbling to catch up. But now she had had pressed her palms against the truth and she felt the full falsity in the weight of the hand misleading her.

### The cave had never felt so empty as when their angry voices echoed.

“Nico cared for you when no one else did. I found you, I brought you to my bed, I...I sang for you...Nico…”

“Nico always knew where the exit was, Nico watched me cry out for wholeness, Nico…” Maki didn’t want to bend, didn’t want to cry, but there was no understanding in the eyes glaring at her, only accusation, betrayal, a deep rage Maki couldn’t stand against.

“Which god will come for you, plead your case, demand your freedom, tear you away?” Nico hissed.

Maki raised her head, confused. “I am. Isn’t that enough?”

Nico took the linens and furs on the bed and threw them across the room, “And this? What was all this?”

“You took consolation I had no understanding of.”

Nico looked furious, “Consolation? You think this was comfort...pity?” Nico stormed up to Maki, shoving her back onto the bed, suddenly pouncing, on top, staring down, her eyes a muddled mix of anger, lust and pain, “We were, you were....you were mine.”

Maki, after a slow blink, turned her head, as Nico’s dark tresses teased her cheek, but her breathing remained even, her hand twisting the sheet beneath her, “I’m no one’s in this prison.”

“I rescued you, I cared for you, I love you, beyond kindness, even in sorrow. Don’t you care for Nico?”

“Do you have to kiss to care?”

Nico froze, eyes wide, then narrowed as they pored over Maki’s expression, as if seeing her clearly for the first time.

No words, Nico panting out heavy breaths as she sat up, her weight an anchor. Finally, she threw herself back. “Nico would love to hear you sing.”

And then Maki was alone,

###

Nico kept busy, gathering wood, weaving, twisting fine twines. Maki would visit the hidden cave at every low tide, to try the door, but its solidity taunted her. Above the hidden cave, a rock jutted. Maki often climbed there, away from Nico, away from the sharp, clear scent of pine and poplar, and longed for a storm. The days drifted on, like the leaves that fell to be carried on a scented breeze. Late one afternoon, skies gray as harsh winter winds blew across the open sea, Nico found her there. Nico carried something more than half her size, wrapped in silk. She bowed to Maki, offering the object, but no words of explanation.

Maki unwrapped it, carefully, her hands finding smooth, polished wood, bounteous, inviting vines carved up the arms of a beautiful lyre, tortoise shell markings carved in its body, strings perfumed with flowers.

“Nico knows how cruel”...her gesture gathered in the air, “they are. No one should be kept from what they love.”

Hope surged in Maki. Her fingers shook as she freed the lyre, finding strings to free her voice, seeking out the tension, plucking the notes that had always grounded her, had always woven her thoughts into truths...but the melody lay flat, like a red tide on a stagnant sea, not leaping free with the joy of dolphins. Notes once sweet and soothing now bit into her fingers and poisoned her ears.

Maki dropped the lyre, barely hearing it crack, as she sprinted away.

###

As Spring brought new life to the island, flowers pushing green buds pregnant with vibrant color, They ate together, sharing ambrosia and red nectar, on the beach, wide apart on an gossamer light blanket of moon silver threads, as the sun sank into waves, staining them as darkly bright as the nectar. There had been a few nights, as snow fell and squirrels skittered to find their store of sustenance, when Nico had been as busy, slowly, longingly storing scraps of skinship, but now Maki knew how uncomfortable pity felt as Nico kept deliberately apart, watching her sadly, often spending nights on parts of the island Maki never ventured to, as she kept her daily watch on the sea hidden cave, gulls screaming impossible tasks.

“Nico can’t open the door for you.” Nico whispered.

“Can’t….won’t...doesn’t matter…” Maki muttered as she lay on her stomach, tracing lines in the sand.

Inhale. A hum that caught Maki’s attention, a thrill coursing up the back of her neck. “Nico can sing you a storm.”

Maki turned, gazing up into the ruby eyes that had as many currents and tides as the sea, with no guide to steer by. How had she ever thought Nico a work of art carved out of stone when so many expressions could cross the smooth skin in a breath, so many emotions stir in the galaxy depths of her eyes.

“You can’t leave by the door, no one can, but you came by storm and Nico is betting a storm will return you.” Nico reached into a bag, offering Maki the repaired lute. “Tomorrow, there’s a raft prepared, a sail newly woven, and a world you know waiting.”

Maki held her hands back from the lute, “This is a trick, another cruelty.”

Nico shook her head, “No, Maki, this is no cruelty. This is your key. Your power. Nico can’t watch you weep anymore…” a sigh, a gentle hand through Maki’s hair, “I give you the freedom I would give myself.”

At that hope surged like a dolphin in Maki’s heart. Seeing no guile, only sorrow in the soft gaze above her, Maki, suddenly restless with a fervor for all things, pulled Nico into a kiss, swallowing Nico’s gasp of surprise, pushing into an embrace no longer strange. The waves claimed the sun as Nico melted into Maki, and in the darkness, only murmurs of pleasure were heard.

###

Maki had not looked back. Lingering briefly with an embrace, Nico had gently wrapped her in a fresh woven cloak, purified by incense. There was water, nectar, ambrosia, sustenance for several voyages. A gentle wind filled the sail, until the raft had left the island behind, and then, as Nico had directed, Maki took the lyre in her hands, ignoring the alieness of the strange wood, focusing on the smoothness that Nico’s hand had crafted, the reminders of the island, the grapes, the vines, the feathers of hunting owls, offering wisdom and sharp eyesight for the journey. The strings had softened or Maki’s will had steeled, and notes of longing for home carried over the waves as Maki caught the scent of storm in the air, dark clouds speeding to add the percussion of thunder to her harmony. Rain drops fell with speed sharp enough to edge, cutting across her skin, the sea raising a fog to meet the striking clouds. Maki could see nothing, her lips cold and thin, her fingers cramped but still supple enough to play a plea to the gods to open a route home. Could she hear another voice added to hers, a familiar one, full of a gentle plea for safe harbor? Even as the storm lashed and punished. A wave swept over the raft, tossing Maki against the mast. Wind pummelled from all directions, another wave crashing, Maki’s voice swallowed in the gray, the lyre knocked from her hands, but Maki had tied a rope around her waist. She would not be lost again. A crescent moon winked down at her, the clouds suddenly splitting and then a dark, wave three times the height of full grown pine crashed down and Maki knew no more.

###

Maki sat up, a rough blanket against her skin, a guttering candle illuminating a small bedroom. A purple haired woman sat behind a table, placing a card in a pattern.

“My wife has rarely pulled such a rare fish from the sea.” The card player didn’t look up, but her voice carried her amusement.

“Your wife?”

“Eli-chi. She is teaching our children the ways of her people.” Purple hair looked up, her eyes turquoise, “It’s adorable. Enough to not regret the loss of Olympus.”

Maki recognized power. Was this another prison?

A laugh, a shake of the head, “Don’t worry about that. Eli-chi will take you wherever you want to go.”

“Home.”

A look that twisted Maki like the pain of a piercing arrow. “Where you will be welcome?”

“Where I belong.” Maki said evenly, refusing to allow this stranger to confuse her.

The woman shuffled the cards into a pile, disappointed, “You are fortunate then, to be certain in your choice, Maki.”

“How do you know my name?”

“She just does. Don’t question her or you will find out too much of your future,” A strong voice, holding back laughter announced a new presence, a tall blonde woman, mortal, strong, stepped in to throw her arms around the card player. “I’m Eli, this is Nozomi, welcome to our home, for however long your stay is.”

“I wish to return to Otonokizaka.”

“She is very stubborn.” Nozomi leaned back against her wife.

“Well, I have had a long journey to bring you here and if you will not begrudge me a few nights in my own bed, we will start off soon enough.”

Maki nodded, feeling drowsy again. She needed to rest, for soon there was another storm to swim through

###

Maki sat on the end of the pier, her feet dangling in the water, Nico’s lyre in her hands, still an awkward weight. Nozomi and Eli’s three children played on the shore, giggling. This was a solitary inlet, Eli usually sailing out to work, Nozomi patience at home, waiting for nights by the fire when all her family surrounded her, and gentle songs kept them all company through the night. Currently Eli and Nozomi were...Maki shuddered, not wanting to add imagined pictures to what Nozomi’s too descriptive enthusiasm had painted of words.

She wondered what Nico was doing? Planting a new garden, plucking blooms to paint, pruning the best vines so their grapes could be pressed into wine. Nico had rarely stopped moving, never claiming a moment’s rest, Maki wondered how the days didn’t seem endless. Perhaps she should have played a song for Nico, but Nico’s song had such a natural charm, even the songbirds listened attentively. Maki could feel the notes of it fading, her fingers on the lyre attempting to recapture the sweetness. Sweetness? On the island, Nico’s voice had been like the sea breeze and the scent of cypress, often in the air, an easy comfort. Maki’s hands fell away from the lyre, her head suddenly full of images of Nico leaning forward, priceless eyes bright, always listening, always kind. Who was Nico listening to now? The sea? Maki felt a new restlessness, a new dissatisfaction. It was time to reclaim her place, her gleaming throne in the high roofed hall of her ancestors, and her voice, brought to full force by the bronze lyre with golden throated strings that had been bound to her at birth.

###

The journey had been easy, Eli, a strong and sure captain easily handling the helm in seas mostly glass. Maki could hear the bustle, the cloying, the hurry before they sighted the harbor. Excited, returned to her home, about to claim her rights, she could barely restrain herself long enough to let Eli tie up the boat.

“You’re as eager as the twins.” Eli chuckled. “I’ll be in port for a few nights if you need a ride anywhere else.”

“Thank you for the kindness.” Maki stepped on shore, feeling power surge as she reconnected to her native ground, “Are you sure you won’t join me for dinner.”

Eli glanced at the tall hall, resting above all else, a golden shimmer against the pure white of the snowcap. “My dinner waits elsewhere. I have humbler tastes.”

Maki shook her head in disagreement. “I have met your wife.”

Eli grinned, “Clever. Then my reply is that as I have a banquet, I have no need for scraps.” Eli pushed Maki forward, “Good luck, my friend.”

Maki nodded, pulling her cloak, incense faded, over her head, long legs striding with confidence, ready to reach out and reclaim her seat.

###

Crowded, noisy, trays of ambrosia, pitchers of sweet red nectar poured into golden cups raised in cheer and challenge. All those her parents ruled, sauntering, shoving to grab the chair closest to the want...dancer, food, conversation, sweet. A few glances of recognition, but Maki began to feel invisible as she moved through hall after hall. Finally, the grand hall, with its three thrones on the glittering dias, her parents’ seats as empty as hers. Maki, ready to wrestle with accusations against her rightful return, felt an emptiness here in this hall, wrong footed, as the cacophony of other’s joys jarred in the distance. Eli and Nozomi’s cozy cottage had not prepared her for immersion in this city after so many seasons on the blissful, serene sonic soundscape of Nico’s isle. Her outer ears had almost turned up against her head, bruised by the physical presence of such raucous roaring. Eager to return, Maki had left Nico’s lyre on Eli’s ship, her mind on what she had to gain, not what she might have lost. But there it was, her lyre, a bronze gleam, familiar, welcoming, waiting, undisturbed. Maki raced up the stairs, falling into her seat, pulling her oldest companion into her lap, fingers reaching to strum...and the first notes of the lilting lullaby Nico had often song to ease the sun into its everchanging bed entered the air of the hall, and twisted, tainted by unclean smoke and so many warring words and wants pummelling Maki from the crowd now crowding the entranceway, her father at its head, not as tall as she remembered, his goblet in the air.

“Ah, she’s here, we need a song, Maki, play something finer, something to rouse us all, the better to enjoy this night.”

Maki stared, her fingers stilled. Her father offered no greeting, no apology, no challenge, no change. He smiled, always a genial host, chattering to those surrounding him, carrying him forward to his central throne. Too jaded by easy luxuries, indulged by all, in his wanton world , it was if his daughter had never gone, had never been thrown away. As if there had never been the hard words, the exile, the attack that Maki still bore the scar of, that Nico’s hands had traced so tenderly, listening as Maki told of how the betrayal had torn through more than her skin. But here...home…time had stopped...no one had changed...and all eyes were on Maki as if she’d just stepped away for a breath of air, not years of weeping exile.

Her mother swept to the center of the room, partners too eager, “Give us a fast tempo, a galliard. We dance.”

Once the lyre had seemed full of potential, alive with Maki’s moods, but now the strings thudded on clanging metal, notes sheared off, tempos too heavy. Still the dancers swirled and danced and promised and embraced, the room dark but for torches, other musicians more tuned to the mood carrying the melody as Maki fell out of harmony, watching the vulgar display as if for the first time, outside of this moment, longing for someone to listen to her, suddenly wanting nothing more than Nico’s smile as bodies fell into each other, and Maki remained alone, turned away from the spectacle, arms around her knees, studying her own heart, listening to its pulse, which had always wanted something other than this, something stronger, something woven with time, threads chosen with care, not born of a moment’s collision.

###

Without Nozomi’s hinting, Eli would have been surprised by the redhead, too quiet, wrapped in her cloak, sleeping against the mast, clutching the battered lyre she’d forgotten last night. Shaking her head, Eli dropped her purchases, awakening her stowaway.

“Good morning.”

Maki stood, “Teach me.”

“Teach you?”

Maki hesitated, “To sail.” Maki turned to the ocean, her arm sweeping out, “I need to return.”

“Nozomi’ll be glad to see you again, but I thought you had business here.” Eli began to replace worn ropes.

“To where you found me.”

Eli stopped. “I’m not sure…”

Maki closed her eyes, guilt bowing her head. “I left someone…”

Eli sighed, “Those were tricky seas. So many islands, rocks everywhere.”

Maki ran her fingers over the wood Nico had smoothed. If Nico had summoned a storm, could Maki summon a path? So much of power was will and Maki wanted this, a spark of a wildfire racing, the first taste of desire on her tongue, the first thrill of the hunt in her veins, a craving to connect to match the lure she’d felt from Nico.

“If you get us close, Eli, I can find her.”

Eli smiled at the confidence, remembering her own chase after Nozomi, not stopping to listen to naysayers or even resting for more than a breath, pushing her boat until it shattered, relying only on her own strength to swim to shore through surging tides, to fall half dead at the feet of the goddess who’s lonely beauty had haunted her.

“All right. But you’re going to work.”

Maki nodded, eyes bright with hope, ready to put her hands to new tasks, she had made a harness so the lyre could rest on her back and not interfere with her actions, “Where do I start?”

Eli threw Maki a heavy coil of rope. “We’re replacing the anchor rope.”

###

There had been no answering call. Not even when Eli’s ship came in sight of the island.

“I’m sure she’s fine.”

“She’s been alone since I left.”

“She was alone before you came.”

“Sometimes.” Nico had never said much, but Maki had realized that there had been others, thrown on the shores of Nico’s island to punish them, only to find kindness and caring, and then returning that with turning away. As Maki had done.

“Nico!” She was wading to the shore, waves washing over her knees, water warm, sun beating down, no echo, the birds strangely still and silent. Eli had stayed off shore, Maki wanted a private moment, planning to signal Eli. Had Nico finally opened the door? Was she elsewhere? There, at the edge of the grove, someone slumped. Maki ran.

“Nico!”

Tiny, frail, almost breathless. The birds remained in their nests, not hunting, silent and strange, the air empty of melody. Maki picked Nico up, so light, dark hair lank, sand a gritty blasphemy against the smoothest of skin, eyes closed, mouth slack. Their cave, with the vines around the entrance, by the melodious springs, Maki ran there, careful of her stride. There, in the bed Maki had woken in her first morning here, Maki laid Nico, a gentle, loving touch, covering her with the lightest of linen. Maki knew where the storerooms were, she ran for wine, nectar, and ambrosia, surprised at the layer of dust. Nothing moved, nothing sung.

Kneeling, Maki raised Nico to pour nectar between her lips, rewarded by the movement of Nico’s tongue clearing the last drops from her lips. Maki had wrapped her lyre in oilskin, protecting it from the seawater, and now, she opened the package, settling next to Nico, her fingers searching the notes, to play a tune as lively as Nico running along the shore, daring Maki to chase her. Now Maki was daring Nico, birds playing over the water, clouds teasing the moon, wind moving shady trees to tease sunbeams all of this woven in her song, all of the days they’d had that now gleamed, Maki’s heart suddenly opening to new feeling, daunting, dangerous impulses, Maki a fledgling hawk poised on the nest's edge to test flight feathers newly grown.

“Maki?” A weak question but at the sound of Nico’s voice, Maki’s certainty surged.

“I’m home.” Maki had said this in her head, over and over again, until repetition had smoothed out the stutter. “I can take you anywhere.”

Ruby eyes watched her, cautious, suspicious, Nico’s emotions hidden.

Less confident about this part, Maki’s voice neared a whisper, “I never meant to leave you alone...I didn’t realize…”

“Humpphh…” With an energy that cured much of Maki’s panic, Nico flipped to her side, facing away from Maki.

“Nico…” reaching a hand out, Maki stroked Nico’s hair, humming.

“Don’t talk to Nico. Nico wasted away on the beach…”

“So you missed me that much.”

Another flip, angry red eyes, looking for a target, a hand reaching for a pillow, “You used to be quieter.”

“I was naive. Arrogant. Ignorant. Thoughtless.”

“So who taught you?” Anger was mixed with accusation.

Maki chuckled, “You. Not being there.”

“You take Nico for granted, leave Nico to die, and then just…”

“Save Nico from an angry sea…”

“Wasn’t angry….”

“It was too quiet. Everything is too quiet without you.”

Nico pulled the pillow in, half her face hidden, eyes wary, “What do you want?”

This was the moment. Maki had no idea what happened next. Everything they had done before, Maki had never made herself this vulnerable, had never hovered on fragile winds over an unknown depth, fly or fall, “I want you to kiss me, Nico. And then I’ll take you anywhere.”

Nico, eyes glittering, surprise shocking her expression into hope and hunger, surged forward, holding Maki’s glance, as her fingers tangled in Maki’s hair. Coral tongue licked crimson lips, Maki’s mouth watering, Nico’s eyes searching Maki’s. Maki glanced away, feeling herself flush, but Nico pulled her back. Maki, her heart racing, her ears full of a thrumming that must be hummingbird’s wings beating, had Maki known she was such a rare, colorful beauty before the mirror of Nico’s eyes told her?

“Yes?” Nico asked, her finger across Maki’s lips leaving Maki shivering.

“Yes.”

And then lips on lips, hands finding hands with a painful grip that anchored this soaring flight, falling back into clouds of new born love, no awareness but skin to skin, lip to lip, hand to thigh, fingers digging into backs, sable and crimson hair mingling as sweat dropped freely, suddenly more sweet than salty to Maki. All new, all blinding, and Maki shut her eyes, finally finding a harbor for her heart home.

###

Much later, a murmur, a quick kiss, a caress promising so many more, “Let’s stay here for now.”

Nico felt Maki nod into her shoulder, and sleep wrapped them up in buoyant arms, as they sailed together through shared, joyful visions of future travels winging through the horned gate as a blessing.

A/N: This was an AU Yeah August request for a modern fantasy riff on the story of Calypso from The Odyssey. I recommend Emily Wilson's translation, which I used as a poetic inspiration.

[lonelypond]

Movie Night

NicoMaki, Love Live, 850 words, 1/1

After a summer apart, Maki and Nico have a campus date.

Movie Night

The rain had started, the rate of pelting increasing gradually. Foolishly not expecting weather, her mind on other things, Maki Nishikino had opted for a turtleneck and jeans, no jacket. It was mid September, after all. So she had nothing to pull over and protect the bag of food. Walk faster. Surely Leona’s had packaged things well enough that a little damp wouldn’t ruin anything. Her girlfriend Nico Yazawa had just finished a summer touring the East Coast with the ÉS Future Stars of Singing and Skating Tour and had to rush back to Evanston to start her job as a Resident Advisor for Sargent Hall. Nico thrived as a big sister to her siblings so Maki was sure she’d do well advising and cheering students away from home.

Maki hadn’t seen Nico in two months. Her parents had insisted she spend the summer in Tokyo, interning at a Nishikino Group hospital to work on her language skills and spend time with her great aunt. Tokyo had been amazing. Aunt Midori had been a blast, a huge music fan. Maki had been to almost as many concerts as Nico, just the musicians were jazz masters, not up and coming popstars. But now, Maki was so ready to make up for the months they’d spent apart. Which is why she’d picked up takeout, hoping Nico wouldn’t mind. Sure, Nico had said “go out,” but Maki knew Nico had been missing their time alone together too.

Up the stairs, open the door, relax. No more rain. Food was fine. Maki’s hair was sticking to forehead though, cold, wet single drops slowly rolling down her nose. Maki blew away the one about to drip off the end of her nose, laughing at the silliness as she waited for Nico to buzz her in.

Nico was on the second floor, first door after the stairwell. Sargent had two floors of men, one for women, all mostly Tech students. Musical theatre major Nico would stand out like a tropical bird, bright and chatty. Nico would love it, Maki realized. Smiling at that thought, Maki stepped out of the stairwell just as Nico opened the door, bouncing out, to pull Maki inside, the hug crushing the food against Maki’s torso, "Maki!!!!!"

“Nico.” Less excitement, more frustration.

“What’s wrong?” Worried, Nico released Maki immediately and saw the red stain spreading across Maki’s gray sweater. Nico chuckled, “You picked up Leona’s.”

“Yeah…” Maki put the food on Nico’s desk, looking for something to wipe her hands on.

“We’re going to have to get that off you.” Nico stepped close, with a wink, reaching for the hem of Maki’s shirt. Maki immediately stepped back, arms across her chest.

After a minute staring at a blushing Maki who couldn't meet her glance, Nico shook her head, falling back on her bed, hands out, speaking slowly, trying not to laugh, “We’re going to have to get that off you if you want Nico to get the stain out before it sets and matches your hair and cheeks.”

“Oh.” Maki knew she was bright red. It had been so long since she’d seen Nico, she’d forgotten how flustered she could get. And how annoying it was.

Nico had turned practical. “Nico will close her eyes. Grab my new mottled purple oversized ÉS tour hoodie. It’s a short dress on Nico, should be good for you. And grab a towel to dry your hair.”

Maki frowned as Nico gave her instructions, sliding open the door to Nico’s closet, grabbing the splotchy purple and gray hoodie, pulling off her turtleneck, reaching for the towel at the top of the linen pile to quick rub through her hair and then get the sauce off her abs. Why was it always like this? Try to do something that came easily for most people like showing up with take out for a date, and instead of smooth, Maki ends up half undressed and clumsy.

“Nico likes you like this.”

Startled, Maki turned and stared, clutching the hoodie to her, “Huh?”

Nico’s smile was bright, no tease, no tension. “Nico likes, no Nico loves you exactly the way you are. Being exactly the person Nico fell in love with.” Nico, always full of infinite energy, bounced off the edge of the bed and started putting food on waiting plates, “I was hoping you’d show up with takeout. Nico decorated.” Nico waved a fork at the twinkling lights draped around Nico’s bed, “I’ve got Birth Of Cool queued up on my laptop. Nico wants to learn more about jazz. It sounds like you had a great summer.”

Even as much as Maki missed Nico, it had been a great summer, but now, pulling Nico’s tour hoodie over her head, inhaling that peach, vanilla, musk, and magic scent, Maki felt a sudden surge of confidence.

“I think I’ll have a better Fall.” Maki leapt to the bed, grabbing for a giggling Nico, who quickly dropped the plate on her desk and rolled into Maki, Maki leaning up for a quick messy glorious smash of a hello kiss that promised many more.

A/N: Why yes, it is AU Yeah August time : ) This is a College Fluff-A-Rama request from Ryqoshay, who you may know from the excellent How To Handle A Nico series. We may not agree on when/how Nico and Maki got together, but we always have good conversations.

Also, you too, loyal or random reader, can request something for any of the ships I tend to write.

Column A: College, Coffeeshop, Cryptid, or Married. Column B: Secret, Rivals, Sports, Mythology, Spooky, Fluff-A-Rama, Christmas/Holiday, or Theatre Option C: Roll the dice, I roll a 4 sided and an 8 sided and see what happens.

Requsts so far: Coffeeshop Spooky, Cryptid Christmas, College Rivals, Coffeeshop Christmas, Married Rivals, College/Married Fluff-A-Rama, Cryptid College.

Next Parent Trap chapter in progress. July was crazy tiring and crazy sad so here's to some new positive energy. Take care.

[lonelypond]

Love Is For Losers

NicoMaki, Love Live, 1.7K, 1/2

Summary: Yazawa Nico and Nishikino Maki are both key players on the Otonokizaka University Tennis Team. But now Nico has decided to "improve" Maki's social media and tennis game.

Love Is For Losers

Not the most flattering picture of herself, racquet ready, waiting for the return of a serve, but Maki Nishikino really liked her look of concentration. So she hit “Post.”. And the hearts and reactions and fire emojis piled on. Wait, what was that comment, from @NicoNi? “With squinty eyes like that, how can you see the ball?”

WTF?!?!?!? Junior and top tennis singles player Nico Yazawa was notorious for living on social media. Since practice started in September, she’d been leading weekly social media best practice training sessions for the Otonokizaka University team that freshman Maki had proudly never attended. And now she was trolling Maki? Was that a social media best practice?

Maki never replied to a comment, but to let the smug Nico Ni have the last word would grate across every nerve Maki had.

To quickly type, “Who’s in the top 10 national standings again? Can you see that?” seemed almost an illicit thrill. To get an instant reply of eye emojis, plus a sweatdrop made Maki laugh out loud. Quickly scoping out the coffeeshop to check if she’d drawn any attention to herself, Maki clicked through to NicoNi’s home page, Nico’s last post was a bikini shot with an obscene amount of hearts and various emoji combinations in an endless comment scroll. Maki snorted, too obvious an attention grab. Maki would ignore it and stick to tennis, which she knew very well. Ah, there was a pic of Nico rushing the net, one of her favorite ways to use her sprint speed. Maki had an in.

“Spend less time looking at my pics and more time on your approach shots.”

Another instant reply. Another sweat drop. “Nico knows. But you’re so pretty. See you at media training ; )”

Did Nico think she was going to get Maki into one of her stupid sessions like that? Maki dropped her phone on the table, sipping her espresso with a frown.

###

Maki’s phone pinged explosively. A series of messages from her self proclaimed bestie and doubles partner, Hoshizora Rin.

R: hahaha Maki Ma you really need to be here

R: Nico’s going through your TWIG account as her “what not to do on social media” slideshow

R: it’s so funny, Maki

R: (*≧艸≦)(*≧艸≦)(*≧艸≦)

R: you missed out Check out Nico’s LIVE.

Maki stared at her phone. Nico’s Live, that happened when you went to someone’s TWIG profile and clicked on their pic, right? Maki did, grimacing as she clicked on Nico’s face. Nico was in front of a whiteboard, drawing pictures of tennis rackets, disgustingly cute tennis rackets. She leaned forward, checking her phone, then grinned like someone who’d just served a winning ace.

“And @Nishikinoshot has just joined the fans watching Nico on TWIG Live…”

Maki heard Rin yell “Hi Maki!!!” in the background as Nico continued, “One of the best ways to learn how to properly conduct and promote yourself on social media is to find an influencer you respect and build a relationship with them. @Nishikinoshot has chosen @NicoNi, the smartest move she…

“I have not.” Maki shouted at her phone and then felt silly when she realized there was no way for Nico to see or hear her, or was there? TWIG kept floating an “ask to join the Live” teaser, so Maki thumbed it. Nico paused, obviously her notifications were on, another one of those winning serve grins and suddenly Maki was sharing Nico’s screen.

“Jumping into the Live. Good initiative, Nishikino..”

“Maki.”

“So why’d you pick your TWIG handle?”

What kind of a question was that?

“Nishikino shot...you know...because of tennis...the Nishikino shot always scores.” Also worked with photography, a hobby Maki wanted more time for.

“Nishikino announces her prowess off and on the court.” Nico giggled, Maki glared.

“What are you saying? That’s not right.”

“Ah, so you admit it is confusing. Make a note of that, class, it’s always best to have a tag that doesn’t confuse people.” Staring right at Maki, ruby eyes twinkling, Nico made an elaborately surprised, amused face, raising a hand to cover her mouth. “We were reading it as Nishikino’s hot, ‘cause you are.”

Maki flushed. And fumbled with her phone to end the live, not even registering what other garbage Nico was saying. And then her phone pinged again.

R: Are you all right, Maki? Nico was just having a little fun.

M: I don’t want to talk about Nico.

R: Okay.

M: That was your fault.

R: Hey, I thought you’d want to know.

M; Yeah...but tomorrow, after practice, you’re on clean up.

R: Maaaaaki (⁎˃ᆺ˂)’

###

Grunting, Maki swung through at full velocity, then grimaced as yet another practice serve skipped out of bounds. She leaned over to pick up another couple of balls. Both buckets were empty. Tempted to throw her racket, instead she shook her head, tucked her racquet under her arm, grabbed a bucket and went to the other side of the court to pick up the balls.

“Hey, let me help you,” chirped an unfamiliar voice. Maki turned. Nico Yazawa had grabbed the other buckets and was hustling for the net. Nico was always hustling, all lean muscle and speed. Her sable hair, usually put up in twin tails, was loose, still wet from the shower. She’d changed from her usual practice uniform to casual pink and black striped biker shorts and an oversized pink t-shirt shirt that slid off her shoulder and read “Killer Cute.” “Coach ended practice an hour ago.”

Maki shrugged, starting with the balls as far away as possible from the spot Nico had chosen.

“You’re always out here.”

“I take tennis seriously.”

Nico hesitated, hands on her hips, watching Maki curiously over mirror sunglasses perched halfway down her nose, “Nico sees that. But you can get trapped in patterns if no one points them out.”

“I’m fine. I win.”

“Don’t you want to win better?”

“Win better? That’s not a thing.” Maki tapped her racquet against her leg, fidgety.

“Accuracy matters.” Nico picked up a tennis ball, tossed it into Maki’s bucket, and winked, “Crush your opponents with finesse, not raw power. Fewer wasted serves.”

Maki’s hasty rush of anger changed to curiosity. Nico led the team in aces, with amazing power for someone so short. “Coach hasn’t said anything.”

“Like you said, you get the job done. And Coach has other problems...like keeping Honoka from exhausting herself in the first few volleys.”

They both chuckled at how eager Honoka Kosaka was to chase down every ball, until she hit empty. As a joke, after their last practice, Rin had her girlfriend, Hanayo Koizumi, the team manager, post a photoshopped pic of a golden retriever playing next to Honoka’s double’s partner, Umi Sonoda. Honoka had laughed longer than anyone.

Nico was right, Maki realized. Coach had been spending a lot of time on the players with more basic problems. And their assistant spend most of the time on opponent research, editing video footage.

“Nico uses a platform stance, but Maki could get away with a pin-point stance. Watch my feet.” Nico grabbed a ball, tossing it up, swinging at it with a pretend racquet. Instead of her feet remaining the same distance apart, her back foot shifted closer to the front one and then she pushed off up into the serve. “You’ve already got natural explosive power, you don’t need a nitro boost.”

Maki considered, moving her feet through the change Nico suggested. It felt comfortable, offering more control. She nodded, then jumped back when Nico clapped her on the upper arm.

“You’re a quick learner. Hang on. Nico will hop over there and you can try it out. It’s more fun with an opponent.”

“I’ll win. You’ll be crushed.” Maki winked.

Nico laughed and it echoed. “Nico didn’t teach you everything Nico knows.”

###

“So you’re a local too.” Nico was scooping salad into Maki’s bowl. They’d decided to stop for dinner.

“Yeah. My family owns a medical center so I couldn’t just go off anywhere.”

Nico paused, eyebrow raised. “Why not?”

“I’ve been working there since…” Maki tried to remember her first job at the hospital, how old was she? She remembered sitting at her father’s desk, coloring in specially made anatomy chart pages in elementary school. Did that count as a job? “Forever.”

“Ah. Nico had to stick close for family too. Three sibs.” Nico flashed a smile and three fingers. “They’re the best, but they rely on Nico.”

“Your parents work a lot?” Maki understood that.

“Yeah, my mom does. My dad died when I was little.”

Maki paled, what did you say to that. “I’m sorry” came out as a mumble.

A sigh, weary, as Nico pushed Maki’s filled bowl in her direction, “Me too. But we survived. He taught me tennis. And…” Nico put on a sparkling smile, bounced her hands up to her temple, rock hands gesture, and her voice became brighter. “Nico Nico Ni.” Then she relaxed back to normal, “He said it could cheer up the whole world..”

Maki remembered something. “Nico Nico is the ideophone for smile.”

Nico leaned forward, “So the Nishikino isn’t just for show.”

Maki shook her head, “We have a hospital in Tokyo too. I’ve spent a lot of summers there.”

“Wow, a doc and a jet setter. So why tennis?”

“I liked it better than golf. My parents said piano didn’t count as a networking activity.”

“Piano? Classic stuff.” Nico created a melody on an air keyboard.

“Some. And jazz. I get to take a couple of music classes, at least this year.”

Nico wondered if Maki realized how robotic she sounded, and how laced through with sadness her mood was as she talked about her family.

“Hey, Nishikino…”

“Maki.”

“Maki. Play for Nico sometime. Nico loves singing. My dad always said I should go on American Idol.”

“Sorry.” Maki twisted a curl of hair, “I don’t play those kind of songs.”

Maki obviously just needed to know more about Nico, which was Nico’s favorite topic. “Nico is multifaceted. We can do Ella and Count Basie, if you want. With the time you save not practicing your serve.”

Nico winked, her multifaceted ruby eyes cheerful pulls as she hummed. Maki found herself intrigued. “I’ll think about it.”

“Nico will be your personal tennis coach to make sure you improve.”

“Not necessary.” Maki leaned back to signal the waiter. Time to start the main course.

A/N: Another AU Yeah August entry, college rivals was requested and the Olympics put me in a sports mood. Planning another chapter.

Still taking requests.

[lonelypond]

AU Yeah August is something I love to do, thank you @auyeahaugust and the Miraculous Ladybug fandom for starting the tradition). Since I can't find a grid this year, I made a menu. Pick a combo meal or ask me to roll the dice for any ship I write, please and thank you. And feel free to use it for Love Live or any fandom. And if you tag it #auyeahaugust21, I'll reTumblr.

Have fun!