Sort of just cranking these out lately…
It's an idea I've had for a long time now, and it's inspired by the song La Petite Fille De La Mer by the Vangelis. It's pretty amazing. I love instrumentals.
Just a warning… it's pretty damn depressing…
It's a large house, if one could call it a house. Most would refer to it as it was: an estate. Others said mansion, and the few envious children that managed to get even close to the place would proudly tell their friends it was a castle.
The estate certainly looked like a castle. It was stuck out along the country side, surrounded by vast fields of green and dotted with flowers. Trees sprung up from the ground as if they were attempting to beat the mansion in height, but none prevailed.
At least, it still looked like a castle from the outside.
"What are we doing here, mama?" The little girl questions, holding her mom's hand tightly. The woman understands why. In her youth, this was a place of excitement and fun. Even when there were no parties or friends, the place felt warm. Not from the people in it, of course not, but from the legacy.
Now, however, it was cold and abandoned. Close up, she could see where the ceiling was collapsing in on itself as ivy and other relentless plants crept up the walls. Ghosts lived here, and little kids could always feel when a ghost was nearby.
However, she can't explain yet. The visit is impromptu, she hadn't expected to come out here. Instead she just pulls the little girl's hand. She smiles down at her softly, and says, "I spent a lot of time here when I was younger. This is where I met your daddy."
At the mention of her papa, the girl brightens up considerably. She was only seven years old, but her daddy is her hero. He had been gone for the past few days, and both mother and daughter miss him.
"Wow." The little girl says as she turns to look closer at the estate. She totters after her mother as she moves closer to the estate. They move up the few stairs, stepping carefully since the rose hedges were no longer being taken care of. Thorns and flowers grew recklessly over what was once white-washed cement, and they're careful not to cut themselves on the plant.
The woman goes to the door, pressing a tentative hand against the massive wooden doors. She had always been surprised at how easily the doors were opened. The wood was rotting as termites worked their way through the wood, but the thick mahogany stood strong. She doesn't expect it to open, but when she pushes, the hinges squeak and the door opens slowly.
The little girl squeaks in surprise, but childish curiosity keeps her from flinching. She strains against her mother's hand to go see, and the mother lets go, because the dust has forced her into a coughing fit. She hadn't expected the place to be so dusty.
Her daughter lets out a shout of awe as she sees the grandeur of the now abandoned place, and the mother knows why. Even in dust and gray, it's magnificent. Just inside the door, the building yawns into a huge greeting room. Grand staircases lead to the upper floors, while the walls are draped with painting that are either coated in dust or coated in drapes. A large marble fireplace is nuzzled onto one side of the wall, and a grand chandelier dangles from the roof.
The sheer sight of it brings back memories she hadn't thought of in years. From the first time she had entered and gaped at its entirety until the last time she had left its steps, glancing behind her in regret.
There was so much regret. So much sadness.
The mother refuses to cry, though. She's here because, in a way, she wants her daughter to know some of the roots she had previously been denied. Even if none of her ancestors grew up here, they knew the manor intimately.
The little girl begins to climb the steps, but her mother calls her back nervously. "Don't." She tells the little girl. "Those stairs may not be safe."
Her daughter pouts, but she accepts the warning as truth. While her parents were protective, they also believed in her exploring on her own, so if she said the stairs weren't safe, they most likely weren't safe.
Instead, the mother grabs the little girl's hand again. She leads her past a couple of statues and past the fireplace, towards a door that is even more magnificent than the front one. While still wood, it is intricately carved, and was once painted a multitude of colors.
Now, though, while it was once colorful, it was a mottled brown. She could see where rot began to eat away at the corners, but that didn't mean she still didn't shudder with excitement at being there. It was like she was sixteen again, when the thought of the unknown thrilled her, rather than intimidated her.
This door puts up more resistance, but when she pushes with the weight of her shoulder, it creaks open obligingly. It screeches loudly, and she's only able to open it part of the way before it stops.
She glances down at the little girl, who glances back. The mother smiles a gentle smile, before leading them through the door.
The building's so huge, and they are so young. Not too young, she thinks, but young enough. Young enough for a night like this to be what changes their future. Young enough for their world to forever be altered.
Her friend, however, thinks differently.
"Maybe if we leave now," she says, "and say that you got sick or something, they won't get mad at us."
Poor Maka, Tsubaki thinks. The girl was never one to enjoy even small get-togethers, let alone giant parties such as this. While she wasn't some social leper, she just didn't like these types of parties. Tsubaki understands, because normally they aren't much fun. She's only forced to go because of her own father's fame, and, as she's described it, 'it's a perfectly dull excuse for well-off men and women to brag about their own fortunes.'
She hadn't any choice, though. As the daughter of a five star general, she was expected to make an appearance at such a gathering. The only highlight was that her father had said she could invite a friend, and she had immediately asked Tsubaki.
Unlike Maka, Tsubaki had never had really an experience with these types of things. It was her first time, and she was feeling sheik with the tight black dress and tall black heels that matched her silky black hair. She was dazzled by the lights and the ladies in fancy dresses. She was entranced by the continues babble of chatter as young men and women in professional clothes came by to offer them drinks while they stood.
It's why, even though Tsubaki was hardly the manipulative type, she told Maka, "but if we leave now, then your dad will probably bring home a date, again…" she drifts off.
This catches the ash blonde's attention. Indeed, she only has to search for a moment to find her philandering father surrounded by a few women with dangerously low cut dresses and an eye for an idiot with money. Despairingly, she wonders if maybe her father has a certain stench that attracts floozies, or maybe they could just sense it, like some sort of instinct.
"Come on." She grumbles angrily, not wanting to deal with it now. She grabs Tsubaki's wrist and pulls her into the grand ball room…
… It's bigger than she remembers.
The windows that were once bright clear were now coated in dust or overlapped by growing plants. The result was that the amount of light that was allowed into the ballroom was exceedingly little. Splotches of sunrays lay pattern-less across the marble floor. The mother looks up, and sees the giant chandelier, bigger than the one in the welcoming room. It truly is giant, and she imagines what it would be like to see it shining again.
"Mama?" The little girl questions as her mother's face becomes wistful. The mother looks down, and smiles softly at the little girl. She bends down to be at her height, and points upwards.
"See that?" she asks, and the little girl nods. "It's a chandelier. When I was young, it used to be lit up with lights, and it would light this whole room."
Light green eyes widen at that as the little girl vividly imagines such a thing. She whips around giggling happily, as she says, "did ladies use to dance here, mama?"
The mother smiles, nodding slightly. "Indeed they did." She responds. "Ladies and gentlemen. They would have musicians play music and talented men would cook tables full of food, and the ladies and gentlemen would dance with each other."
Her smile is so bright that the mother can't help but to replicate it. She's lost in the throes of a fantasy, so her voice is whimsical as she asks, "did you ever dance, mama?"
This time, the smile she smiles is sad, but the little girl doesn't notice. "Yes, I did." The mother answers, looking about the now sad, abandoned room. It was like when she saw those from her youth whose dreams had never actually became a reality. They never had fulfilled their destiny, so they walked around with bowed heads and twiddling thumbs.
Some ballrooms didn't care if they were danced in or not, but this ballroom was meant to be grand, to have people mingle and meet and laugh in it. But now it was so sad, so glum that no people wanted to host parties or to dance for hours after hours under its marbled ceiling.
"Can I have this dance?" A boy says to her, and Tsubaki can't help but to blush a faint pink. She had been asked to dance several times already, while Maka hadn't been asked once.
It wasn't because she wasn't pretty – that wasn't the case at all. She was beautiful. She had allowed her blonde tresses, which normally hung in pigtails, to tumble down her back in ringlets which Tsubaki had curled herself. She was wearing an ethereal red dress that followed her curves and a black choker. Not many women could pull off red, but Maka did it beautifully.
However, her eyes held a death glare in them, which unnerved any boy who came close enough to make eye contact. It was as if she were challenging any boy to dare to ask her for a dance. If they came close enough, she might bite off their hand.
So while Tsubaki was about to refuse, for the third time, to dance, Maka cut in impatiently. "It would be her honor." She says, ignoring Tsubaki's surprised look. Honestly, she was sick of her friend's gloomy looks that she would disguise with a soft smile. Unlike her, Tsubaki was actually excited at being here, and she didn't want to ruin her chance to at least dance.
Therefore, when the boy holds his hand out to her, Tsubaki takes it shyly. She allows the boy to lead her to the dance floor, where he places a hand politely at her waist. She doesn't flinch at the motion, but it sends shivers up her spine.
From the edge, Maka watches with a slight smile. Perhaps, she thinks, if she hadn't spent so many pointless nights babysitting her father and slapping away wandering fingers, she herself would enjoy these nights much more.
"Hey, Maka!" Comes a voice, one she hadn't expected to hear.
Turning, the girl sees a familiar boy dressed in a black suit, with equally black hair that contained three strange white stripes on only half of his head. She brightens up immediately, his wasn't a face she thought she'd see soon.
His name was Death the Kid. It was a strange name, but inherited from his father, the very powerful Lord Death. He himself, however, went by the uncanny name of Kid.
The two of them had met during a party his own father had hosted for the higher ups. It was one of her better nights, her father hadn't a chance to meet any loose women, and she had befriended the strange boy. He was exceedingly strange, too. Despite the three stripes in his head, he had a strange obsession for symmetry. Their first interaction was him making sure the bow on her dress was completely symmetrical. He had later then forced all of the guests to do a dance that would be symmetrical as well, and while it had driven her crazy at the time, she discovered half way through the night it was some of the most fun she had had in awhile.
He approaches her happily, exclaiming that he is glad to see her here. "I was thinking I might be surrounded by a bunch of boring old adults again." He admits, and she chuckles slightly in understanding. "Although," he says, "it's not too bad. You know the family that owns this house, right?"
"Yeah," she says, tipping her head slightly to the side, making him pout in annoyance. "It's the Evans family, right?"
He nods, tapping the side of her head so she'll straighten herself again. She rolls her eyes at his impulses, but complies. "They are world renowned for their musical talent, you know. While they may only be doing this as a publicity stunt, I've met their sons as well."
Maka blinks, and echoes, "sons?"
Once again, Kid nods. "Yes. The older brother is a guy named Wes, who's supposedly a violin prodigy, although I've never heard him play. The younger brother is a piano player called Soul. Soul Evans."
She wrinkles her nose at the strangeness of the name, as if she can taste a pungent aftertaste. "Soul Evans?" She snorts, wondering if her parents hated the poor boy. "What kind of name is that?"
Kid shrugs, smiling slightly. "I don't know, but it fits him pretty well. We met a few years ago, and he can be sort of strange."
"Yeah, because the boy who took two girlfriends is entirely normal." Maka smirks back, and he scowls. It hadn't been a well kept secret when the boy had decided to date two girls at the same time. Not only was he dating them both, but they were younger and older sister, and they had agreed to date him as he requested. However, to those that knew him, it wasn't that surprising. Kid had such an issue with symmetry, he was only able to find his soul mate in two women.
The boy crosses his arms with annoyance as he glares back at her. However, after a moment, he relents. "So that might be true, but like I'm not that bad, neither is he." He says, and Maka giggles slightly. He brightens suddenly, saying, "would you like to meet him?"
It was there, by that door. It was a small door, incredibly normal. It was where the servers would enter and exit at incredible speeds, holding trays of fine appetizers or bubbly liquid in fine crystal glasses. It was made non obtrusive so people wouldn't notice it. The idea worked, none spared the working door a second glance.
"Hey, mama!" The little girl calls brightly. The mother turns to see the little girl running around a giant table. It wasn't incredibly tall, but it was practically as long as the room. It was cloaked in a large gray blanket, as if someone had once wanted to come back to use it again. No one ever did, though.
The mother goes over to the little girl, running her hands amongst the fabric. It's rough and thick, meant to last a long time, but the edges are frayed and turning black with age.
She feels a tug at the hem of her skirt, and the little girl is staring up at her. "What is this table, mama?" She asks. "Why is it the only one?"
Her mother smiles as she looks around the ballroom. "The other tables could be put back into a room to make the ballroom look clean. But this table… this table always stayed."
The little girl blinks in wonder as she stares at the huge table. "Why did it always stay, mama?"
The mother laughs gently as she tousles the little girl's hair. "Because it's so big!" She responds animatedly, and the little girl giggles. "This is where they put all of the food and drinks."
Maka blinks at Kid, unsure. "Why would I want to meet him?"
Kid chuckles slightly, giving Maka a cunning stare. "Because," he answers, "what else are you going to do? Your friend is dancing, and you look bored out of your mind. Come on, it'll be entertaining."
He knows he has her as she sighs in defeat, glancing back at Tsubaki who seems absorbed in her dance. A smile is on her face, and Maka finds herself relenting. "Alright." She says, and he grins as he leads her away. "Speaking of which," she begins curiously, "where are Liz and Patty?"
In front of her, Kid rolls his amber gaze. "They don't really like these types of occasions." He answers, and she laughs. Of course. The Thompson sisters were born and bred on the streets, not amongst primped and preened corsairs. The only thing they found appealing about these parties was the alcohol, although last time Kid had to pull a drunken Liz off of the dance floor.
They weave through mingling groups, Maka intentionally avoiding her father, as they approach the giant dining table. They only make it halfway, though, before Maka hears a crash.
Both kids jump as Maka glances around wildly, looking up as she hears a loud kid scream, "YAHOOOO!"
Maka blinks furiously, about to ask Kid if they should be worried, but stops when she sees his face. He's shaking his head back and forth, looking merely exasperated. "There he goes again." He sighs, and Maka looks back towards the sound curiously.
At her side she feels someone grab her shoulder, and she jumps with surprise. However, when she looks back, she sees it's only Tsubaki, looking alarmed. "Maka!" She gasps, blue eyes wide. "What in the world was that?"
Maka shakes her head, unsure how to answer. However, their curiosity is only stunted for a moment, when suddenly a blue haired boy pushes the lead violinist off of the small stage in order to address all of the guests. "Greetings, from the great Black Star! I know you little people are in awe of a person as big as me, but don't worry! I will have time to sign each and every one of you and autograph, and ngh-!"
He's cut off as a mysterious white haired boy practically tackles the other off of the stage. Tsubaki gasps as Kid motions for Maka to follow, taking off towards them. She's unsure why she should go, but she grabs Tsubaki's hand and chases after Kid, her friend stumbling after her.
When they approach, the white haired boy manages to shove the blue haired one through the servers' doors. Kid dashes in after them, and while Maka needs to pause as an alarmed server stumbles through, just barely holding onto a tray of drinks, she chases them through.
Inside, the two boys are wrestling, the loud one yelling for the other to let go, he's got autographs to sign. The other doesn't dare, snarling back that if he keeps causing commotions like this, he'll never be allowed back.
"Hey, Soul!" Kid calls, looking anxious as Maka blinks. So the white haired boy was Soul Evans? She could see what Kid meant about him being a little strange.
Said boy hardly is able to snarl a, "not now!" as he tries to hold Black Star down to talk some sense to him. Unfortunately, Black Star was stronger than Soul, and talking sense into him was harder than talking sense into a rock. He shoves Soul off, and sets his sights on the two girls he's never seen before. He leaps up, proudly crossing his arms across his chest.
"You two are here to get an autograph from the great me, huh?" He boasts. His shrill voice and commanding nature is grating on Maka's nerves. "Haha, well that's expected. People as small as you will always be in awe of someone as big as me! For you see, I am the great Black Star, and I'm going to surpass the gods!" He exclaims, laughing loudly.
Beside him, the boy named Soul straightens up, scowling as he brushes dust off of his pants. "Yeah, everyone knows your name." He comments dryly, eying the other two girls suspiciously.
Maka feels ready to chop this boy on the head, but Tsubaki suddenly smiles. As Black Star finishes his proud speech, she claps politely, surprising all those around her.
All except her best friend, though. Maka thinks it's just like Tsubaki, to happily indulge everyone.
Black Star stares at the clapping girl, his green eyes bright. A giant grin blossoms on his face, and before anybody can stop him, he grabs Tsubaki's wrist. "Come on!" He booms with his loud voice. "The small people out there are missing me, and I must sign some autographs. You can come with me!" He says, as if granting her a huge favor.
Tsubaki's eyes are about the size of saucers as she says, "o-kay?" squealing when he pulls her out of the door, dashing back into the crowd.
The three remaining kids gawk as Tsubaki's torn away, and Maka quietly sighs. She wonders if she'll get her friend back through the course of the night, or if she'll have to fight Black Star to get her.
Kid glances over at her, eyebrows raised. "I wasn't really expecting that…" he admits, while the Soul boy snorts.
"No one understands Black Star." He says, glancing over at Maka. "Was that your friend who was unfortunate enough to get his attention."
She meets his gaze, and she blinks at surprise. He's not how she expected him to look. Really, he's not how she expected anyone to look. Despite the shock of white hair on his head, his eyes are a bloody red that remind her of crimson roses. When he speaks, she sees jagged white teeth that make her vaguely think of a shark.
Still, she's not one to be caught up in looks (otherwise she's not sure she'd have been able to befriend Kid), so she answers with an unnoticeable pause. "Yeah, but she'll probably be okay." Maka answers. "Tsubaki usually has a pretty... soothing effect on people."
Crimson eyes meet jade ones, and he nods just slightly. "Yeah, and Black Star's not a bad guy. Just really loud."
She giggles as Kid rolls his amber eyes. "Of course, I think all of your guests now know that."
"Really." The mother giggles down at her daughter. "They had all types of food. Once there was even a giant cake, one that was even larger than you."
The little girl's eyes widen at that, her mouth watering slightly at that. "How did anyone eat that?" She asks, voice wavering with excitement. The mother laughs, saying, "there were a lot of people, so they all ate a little bit."
Her daughter giggles, nodding slightly in reply. She suddenly runs back to the middle of the floor, calling, "mama! Let's dance!"
The little girl twirls around and around in the center of the floor, as if remembering what it was like to see the jewels on the chandelier light up. The mother almost sees it as well, the marble floors shining, the air warm, and the atmosphere thick with voices and rustles. It was all one giant dance, one that she was glad she was ever a part of.
The mother goes to her daughter and grabs the little girl's hands, whirling her around and around. Her skirt swishes around her, and the little girl laughs happily. To the mother, it's as if the whole ballroom has lightened. There's always the chance it's just the little girl, but she likes to think that it's her as well. Because she was the one who came back, to remember the ballroom in its glory, and it's happy to be remembered.
"So that crazy guy… that's your father?"
His voice is incredulous, and half makes her want to smack him. However, he had just seen her father come and make a fool of himself as he begged Maka to believe that he loves her, despite all of the women he's around. She brushed him off coldly, and he had broken down crying.
"Please don't remind me." She groans, burying her face in her hands. "It's embarrassing enough as it is."
Her new friend snorts as he glances over at her. She thinks, most likely, on common occasions they wouldn't have spared each other the time of day. They are almost as different as black and white. He's cool, in his pin-striped suit and striking features. While he hasn't completely admitted it, Kid took it upon himself to embellish the fact that Soul was a talented piano player. Soul scoffed at that, although Maka wasn't sure why.
She, on the other hand, is a bit of a recluse. She enjoys rainy days that are spent reading novels tucked into a chair. She is a dreamer, and while she isn't a social recluse, she hates these types of parties.
That, actually, was what they had in common.
They bonded over their share of social gatherings, although she found that he didn't like parties of any kind. While she liked the small ones with groups of friends, he confined himself from such trifles. "They're so boring." He tells her. "And pointless. No one has enough close friends to have an actual party."
She snorts, glancing at him from over her glass. Honestly, she's not sure if she has ever met someone so pessimistic. "How do you know? Someone might have a lot of close friends."
Truthfully, she thinks he's right, but she doesn't want to give him the satisfaction.
It's as if he knows when he turns to look at her. His red eyes are piercing, but she doesn't mind, because she's not that mysterious anyways. She accepted a long time ago that, despite her trust issues, she wore her emotions on her sleeve. Although she didn't advertise her feelings, those who knew her sense her moods in an instant. It wasn't really that hard.
She has a feeling, though, that this is another instance in which they differ. His face is horribly placid, as if someone wrung him dry of his emotions. He took enjoyment in learning another's weaknesses, but he flinched whenever another tried to find out his own.
"You don't really believe that." He responds, snapping her from her reverie. "Come on, you know that this stupid gathering is just an excuse for rich people to get together and show off. It's so uncool."
Maka almost gags as he says the word 'cool' again. It's as if it's his life's goal is to be the coolest kid on the planet. She would never say it, but she finds it incredibly mainstream.
Even so, he has a point. She doesn't say so, though. Instead, she takes another sip of water, since she's too young to imbibe. "If you hate it so much, why do you even come?" She challenges, looking at him with her deep emerald gaze.
It's something he's never seen before. In his years, he's met many girls who have sidled up to him. They're all the same, with hair painstakingly pinned and sprayed into place. They had the same plastic faces with twinkling gazes that promised everything a man should desire of a woman.
They disgusted him.
She's different, though. She's not done up to impress him, and she's made no effort to do so. Her retorts are real, and her emerald orbs hold a type of light he's never really seen before. He imagines that if someone were to turn out the lights, her eyes would shine, bright and clear.
He's glad emotions don't leave his face easily, though. When he looks back at her, his gaze is no different, so she merely waits for his reply with an arched eyebrow.
"Because," he finally says, running a hand through his spiked mane, "it's my family. It'd be kind of strange if one of the sons didn't even show up, you know?"
Between them it's quiet, but moments later, she starts to laugh. He's surprised, which doesn't sit well with him. He doesn't like surprises much. He glares at her as she giggles into her hand, trying hard not to meet his gaze.
"What?" He hisses, wondering what in the world has her so amused. She doesn't answer him for a moment, still trying to suppress her giggles, but after a moment, she straightens her face.
She meets his gaze, a wide smile on her face. "Sorry, it's just that the way you say it makes it sound like you really don't care at all."
They stare at each other, her eyes amused, and his almost stern. She blinks, thinking maybe she's accidentally broached on sensitive territory. She pushes bangs from her eyes, glancing away suddenly. She feels guilty, and is ready to apologize, but he suddenly holds a hand out to her.
"Do you want to dance?" He says quickly, looking both peeved and slightly annoyed. She's pretty sure he doesn't do this often, and neither does she.
She stares at him, feeling so unsure. For a few years she's been going to these parties, and for the past year she's never accepted a dance from any boy. To her, they were all after the same thing, and she detested them.
He's different, though. He's staring at her, so intently, and while she'd be stupid to say she completely trusted him, she feels as if the future is there. Perhaps, she thinks, she could learn to.
So she takes his hand, blushing slightly as she does. "I… I don't really know how to dance." She tells him, emerald eyes soft.
For the first time since they've met, he smiles at her. It's not a breathtaking smile, she thinks. In fact, it's almost creepy. His grin disfigures his face slightly as he shows of large rows of pointed teeth. The smile alone is strange, but when he smiles, it forces his downwards slanted eyes to crinkle slightly. She sees a glitter in his gaze, something mysterious and promising, and she can't help but to smile back.
"It's okay." He tells her, leading her back onto the dance floor. "I'll lead."
"Hey mama." The little girl says suddenly. "Why did we come here?"
The mother looks down at her, her smile suddenly very sad. It's thick with nostalgia. Her eyes become distant, and the little girl pouts slightly.
She tugs at her mother's skirt, wanting her attention back. "Mama?" She urges, her curiosity brighter than before.
The mother leans down to be at the same level, pushing the little girl's hair behind her ears. "This place is going to be torn down soon." She tells her daughter, and the little girl blinks. "The owners decided that they didn't want it anymore. So I thought we should come and see it."
Her mother watches her carefully, and the little girl is too young to understand. She doesn't know what it means, but it's important to her mama, so she likes it, too. "Can we eat our picnic, now?" she asks excitedly, and the mother chuckles softly.
Light dances around them as the mother picks the little girl up, letting her head rest on her shoulder. "Of course." The mother says. She walks to the door, and when they pass through, she doesn't turn back.
Amongst the wild thorns, the mother lays out a thin blanket while the green eyed little girl sits upon it. She smiles softly, the little girl doesn't even know that this was her actual home. It is just a majestic place that would be gone soon and nothing more.
The mother gives the little girl a sandwich, one she had made herself. She was always praised as a good cook, although she didn't do so often. "Here, Maka." She calls the little girl, giving her a napkin as well. The little girl grins, placing it in her lap happily.
Because that night they dance to the rhythm of the music. He places his hand on her waist and she places hers on his shoulder. They talk and smile, and he pulls her closer until their torsos brush.
They will speak often, sometimes of nothing, and sometimes of everything.
She tells him of her desires to earn a scholarship one day, and he responds by calling her a nerd. It annoys her, but when she prods, he tells her of his own dreams to become worthy of his skills in his parent's eyes. She doesn't doubt him, but he points out her awful taste in music.
One night when it rains, they will meet underneath thin sheets and the veil of night, and he will place warms lips on the crook of her neck.
When Kid decides to attempt to make the dance symmetrical, she forces him to play along. They learn a new dance, one with dips and twirls, and while she's no good at this sort of thing, he guides her through it effortlessly. To the sigh of the violins, he dips her along with everyone else in the room.
The air will be warm, but she won't mind, because when she walks, she leaves trails of white.
He twirls her, but her heels catch slightly on the hems of her dress. She gasps as she stumbles slightly, but he catches her suddenly. The time of the music works with the dip, and he bows her so low her hair scrapes the floor. She glares up at him as he smirks, red eyes devilish. "We wouldn't want you to fall, would we?" He murmurs. She blushes.
Everything large starts out small, the same with her belly and their happiness.
He pulls her back to her feet, holding her close. The violins begin to fade, while the light tinkling of harps and xylophones sounds. The dance is ending, and the other couples begin to disperse, but he continues to hug her.
A full moon will shine while she cries and cries and cries, a baby with green eyes.
She thinks she's supposed to pull away, but she doesn't want to, not really. His gaze is hypnotizing, and so she's surprised when he's the one leaning closer to her. For once, she thinks, she's happy she didn't play hooky to get out of a party.
A sunrise will show him as he cries and cries and cries, along with his newborn child.
His breath is musky, and it tickles her ear as he whispers secrets into it. She smiles softly, her eyes half closing in response. Their cheeks are touching, and she tries hard to clear her head, but it's so hard when he's so near to her.
When he looks to the sky, he imagines her soul, weeping because she's not there beside him any longer.
He breathes deeply, taking in her essence. It's like breathing in fresh air for the first time ever, and he's refusing to let her go. It doesn't matter to him that they just met, because even if she's a crazy nerd, she's not staring at him with doe like eyes that say she desires his money. She sees him, and he smiles.
Perhaps the chair he chooses is way too rickety, but it's fine that way.
She pulls back enough to look into his eyes, a faint blush coloring her cheeks red. There's a promise between them, and although they don't speak it out loud, it's something she knows is there. So when he leans closer, she complies, pressing her lips against his…
He rapidly kicks the chair away, and the rope snaps his neck.
Hm. Unedited and generally depressing and long. Well, that's about right for me. I'm beginning to wonder why I have such morbid ideas. Especially because I actually do enjoy happy endings.
Sorry if it seems confusing. I tried to make it make sense at the end. Did you get it? Huh?
Well, thanks for reading!