Author's Note: This is a series of drabbles about Schwarz's other talents. The ratings are as thus: G, PG, PG and PG-13. Don't read these if yaoi themes freak you out.
Oh, and I don't own Weiss Kreuz, but I'm sure you already knew that.
Comments and Criticisms are welcome!
Incarnadine
Vivid, almost scalding colors stain the page.
First orange: with it, trails of gold, russet red and rich burnt umber. Almost fire, with a hint of blood.
Next is a spark of blue. Pewter skies and darker blue, like the magnitude of shattered souls his eyes reflect everyday.
Then the myriad skin tones: Peaches and cream…
Just above Farfarello's head, an impatient telepath dances about until the finished sketch is passed to him, reverently.
Silently, Schuldig scans it. It shows a beatific, brilliant monster, whose eyes speak of pain, abandonment and unspeakable horrors.
It's a beautiful picture.
Schuldig hates it.
Diva
"Wait until it fades to black
Ride into the sunset
Would I lie to you?"
The bar is dark and smoky. This is not surprising, most bars are.
"Would I die for you?
Well here's your answer in spades…"
What is surprising, however, is the wild-eyed redhead singing to a crowd of drunken Japanese businessmen.
"Shotgun sinners, Wild eyed jokers…"
Schuldig has a sultry, throaty purr of a voice. The sort of voice that makes silly girls throw away their maidenheads and take up lives of vice.
"…don't stop if I fall
And don't look back…"
Brad loves Schuldig's singing.
Ikebana
It had been a late night, so it was natural that Omi fell asleep at work, head resting on the counter, surrounded by unfinished bouquets.
He is not alone but, safe in his naïveté, he sleeps on as the intruder starts working.
Omi has nimble fingers, but the intruder doesn't rely on motor skills. Flowers, ribbons and all the gewgaws of the florist's trade float about in a strange, aerial ballet as they transform into perfect bouquets.
The intruder smiles at his finished work, pausing to stroke Omi's cheek before he leaves.
When Omi awakens, he is shocked-
-but gratified.
Utterly Useless
Brad Crawford would have the world believe that he has no useless talents.
He can box, but that is useful.
He can shoot, strategize, plan and scheme…
He can see into the future and find the most fortuitous paths…
…but all of these are necessary skills that he needs to survive.
"Do that trick with your tongue, baby!"
"What trick?" Crawford licks the squirming telepath in a certain way, experimentally.
"This one?"
He is rewarded by an ecstatic squeal.
Brad Crawford would have the world believe that he has no useless talents.
Schuldig grins, wickedly.
"I think they're very useful…"
-Owari-