Author's Ramble: Dedicated to my dear friend Neonkoi and her missing ring. I hope you find it.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
The Magician Under The Moonlight blinked blankly at the bright blue gem he held captive in one white-gloved hand.
Midnight Raindrop glimmered and glittered in the pale moonlight.
The night wind blew brown bangs peeking underneath a white rim, the other white-clad hand applying pressure on one end of the bar that controlled his own personal patch of moonlight cloth, gliding into another direction.
The jewel glimmered and glittered with such fervor, such ferocity, as if it possessed consciousness and thus desired the attention and adoration of its charming capturer.
If indeed it truly was conscious, it should be aware Kaitou Kid was not interested.
Midnight Raindrop was not the treasure he seeked.
It was not Pandora.
And its glimmer and glitter was nothing to the glisten and glow of Meitantei-chan's eyes...
The thought nearly made him steer his hanglider into a building.
Righting his flight, he groaned. Maybe he really was losing his touch...
Meitantei-chan pointed out the possibility. The girl truly was his hardest, harshest critic.
Those chips of a glacier she had for eyes always sent a cold chill to his heart, a searing shiver down his spine, a freezing fire through his entirety that felt as though a knife of ice pierced his flesh and the anatomy of his soul autopsied.
The wrongness of those eyes on that supposedly angelic, ethereal countenance juxtaposed with the rightness that those eyes were also coupled with that mind was a paradox that never ceased to intrigue, astound and confound him.
A figure of physical perfection and purity.
The face of innocence and chastity.
With the devastating, deplorable knowledge of any and all manners and forms of atrocities.
With the eyes of a being centuries of lives worth; ancient, aged, archaic in sublime, subtle wisdom.
To others, she was the Heisei Holmes.
The Savior Of The Tokyo Metropolitan Police Force.
Beika Police Department's Golden Girl.
The Great Detective.
In his eyes, she was an angel.
Otherworldly, ethereal, heavenly.
Cold, detached, objective.
Fair, good, righteous.
An angel sent by Heaven to scrutinize the soul of Night's favored child, with her unworldly, unnatural eyes that always seemed to glint and gleam with some unknowable knowledge, with merciless, pitiless conclusions and analyzation.
The moonlight demon, at home in Night's light, with all his tricks and illusions, pranks and games.
Th angel of Judgment's charge and rival.
Is he lacking?
An angel.
An angel of Judgment.
His Pyriel.
Author's Ramble: Chapter Two: Hearing coming next.