Title: Rouge.
Summary: The little girl loses her way in the woods; the little girl loses her mind. The wolf grins.
Pairing(s): Fem!Selfshipping or fem!Haou/fem!Judai. Don't like it? Leave.
Author's Notes: Because this fandom has a depressingly small selection of femmeslash. Uh, if it makes no sense to you, I'm sorry. It's kind of a mindfuck even to me. Still, I hope you enjoy it.
"And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you."
— Friedrich Nietzsche
Frigid fingers work nimbly at the silver buttons lining the back of her dress, tickling her bare skin as they patiently fastened each one with fluid, efficient movements. She shivers, goose bumps rising all across her skin as she tries to keep composure. Counting breaths. Counting ceiling tiles. Counting anything but the faint tickle of fingertips against her back, constant. The ticking of the clock, insistent. The agonizingly short distance away from her doom, waiting for her. For her, always.
The silk is too tight, skin-tight, the petticoat is too long, the lace of the collar is scratchy and uncomfortable, but how can she complain? Her tongue was tied the minute that sash was tied around her waist; she is bound by her fate, now. Her fingers dig into her skirts unconsciously, seeking comfort. She feels other fingers lace into her own. Cold, rigid, demanding fingers. They pry her own out of her skirts, forcing her to accept that this is reality, that this won't go away. She chokes on a sob.
She longs for something red, something she remembers from yesterday- or maybe it was years ago? A jacket, a cloak, a shield. She doesn't remember. But the fabric of her dress is black, black like a void, and there is no red here. There is no red anywhere. Everything is black. It suffocates her.
"There there, Judai," whispers a voice, cold breath like ether anesthesia ghosting against her neck, cold like longing, cold like death and that's all that she has to look forward to now, right? Death, mayhem destruction, Johan, where are you, why won't you answer me, what happened? Death.
The voice and the fingers belong to the same body that presses against her own, the arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer into darkness. The only thing that is real to her right now. The fingers suddenly wrap around the ties at her corset, tugging them, cutting off the last of her air. She chokes.
"You don't need anything but me," the voice says, tugging harder, taking away everything but those fingers, that body, that voice. "Everything else deceives you. Everything else lies. Let's just destroy all of those things. It wouldn't be so bad, would it? There would be nothing left to hurt you."
She wants to run, run like a rabbit would run from a starving wolf, but she can't. Can't, because she is the wolf, and she can't run from herself any more than she already has. This is reality. The chains that the corset strings have become to her finally loosen, and she sucks in a breath unwillingly. She doesn't want to be awake anymore. She doesn't like this reality. She wants to sleep. She wants to see everyone again in sleep, to tell them that she's sorry and that they won't ever be alone again. But she can't.
"I'll always protect you, Judai. Always."
The fingers interlaced with her own suddenly twirl her around in a masochistic dance, forcing her to face reality. She gazes into eyes that are exactly like her own, almost but not quite because they're too gold, gold like a rabid wolf looking at its meal, like everything that should be beautiful but isn't anymore, and she shuts her eyes tight. She keeps them closed, forgetting that she is in the presence of a wolf, in the presence of herself, just wanting to fall away from everything.
I don't want to do anything I don't want to be anything I just want to sleep I just want to leave now and never come back I just want to go away and forget everything.
The fingers tilt her chin upwards, and she feels lips pressing against hers, mumbling.
"As you wish."
And then everything is dark.
LOOK MA, NO LOGICAL PLOTLINE!