Originally posted on livejournal for a drabble competition. Unfortunately didn't win- but hey! It was fun. (:
(week 173; theme: fire. c: )
- And here we go!
And oh- the fire which blazed in his eyes was undeniably present. Aquamarine splendour, framed with locks of dishevelled, bright –almost neon- crimson spikes haphazardly arrayed. It was such a shame to see his perfect guise flawed with the shadow of night and the moonlight that lingered with it.
She shuddered as an audible –click!- impaled her to the spot, a through flame resting steadfast above pointed fingertips. Perceptible footsteps and brightening luminous glow informed her that the particular redhead was nearing closer to her trembling figure. But how she disapproved of fire, it unintentionally, most of the time, feasted on the paper that she loves, the memories she wants to lose.
But alas, the anxiety that parallels her is dimming against the unfamiliar warmth; it's all alien to her, this tender compassion, albeit of what she has seen in Sora's eyes. A skittish smile graces a face that is not truly hers, porcelain despite calloused fingers continuing to do what they were fated to do, of what they were forced to do.
She was an artist, yes, born into the world cast upon a destiny which allowed her to perform her skill. But he was an artist too- an artist of fire.
Perhaps, just perhaps, the fallen artist was starting to take a liking to this blazing phenomenon.