Fortunes of War

Zechs/Dorothy. PG. ~150 words.
A man with a heart and a vision to rival her own.

“And you are a woman,” he says, “that appreciates the beauty of battle.”

She leans back in her chair, legs crossed and hands casually folded. The uniform suits her tastes, and pleases her. Much like the man seated across from her suits her tastes and pleases her. A man with a heart and a vision to rival her own.

“A grand plan,” she replies, with an ironically small gesture. “Genius in the palm of one’s own hand is a heady thing.”

It takes effort to contain the thrill she feels when he nods, and stands to offer her a drink from his own store. It’s his brilliance that draws her, she thinks, listening to the slow slither of his white blond hair against her shoulder as he leans forward to set the heavy glass in her hand.

His eyes are blue like the thin ice over frigid winter water. She turns to him, smile carefully in place, and the cool air from the vents makes her skin prickle.


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