AN: I lied. Another Hellsing fic.
A Sip of Heaven
The angel from hell sits upon ruins, ruins that she has caused. Her ruby eyes are not filled with the hunger of life, rather they are empty with the fullness of life taken from the innocent. Every now and then she clenches her fist, curses, and unclenches. She keeps repeating the same motions, like the chorus of a song, like the cycle of her life.
The worst part is, she doesn't feel bad about this, she doesn't feel sorrow, she doesn't feel regret.
And she has to wonder, what does she feel?
--
He is her knight in the form of a shadow, a demon, a beast. He takes away her guilt and keeps it for himself, setting it aside for another night.
She wants to thank him for it, wants to tell him every nice thing she knows. And when she begins to count all the sweetest ballads she could ever know, she finds it all lands on one finger.
But she doesn't cry about it. There is no pain, there is no hate, there is no embarrassment.
It's only honesty.
--
The moon is full, bright, shining, turning.
It makes her feel so alive when she is dead. She could dance, she could sing, she could fly. All at the expense of another.
Herself.
She has lost a part of her to gain another.
But she doesn't care, she doesn't worry, and she doesn't run.
So what, exactly, does she feel?
She wants to say 'I can't feel' but it's not true. There is something there, there is something tugging at her mind, whispering words that could only make sense to her.
--
Fear.
--
He whisks her away on unsaid dreams, terrifying nightmares, and all things that could never be sweet.
She finally realizes who she is and what she has become.
This girl fears nothing.
She fears nothing, and therefore she is scared. Scared at her own immunity to her fear. The blood of a thousand humans could never make her feel horrible, could never make her repulsed. It couldn't even feed her soul. The blood is there because it is.
'I can make you forget,' he whispers, trying to draw her away from what is the ultimate destruction, when the only real destruction is him.
'No.'
--
'I want to fly with golden wings. I want to touch the sun. I want to know a thousand beautiful things.'
He is baffled, he is upset, and he is angry.
'Beautiful things don't always exist in light.'
She looks at him with eyes that have seen little, but understood many.
'How could you know beauty when you have been a prisoner of yourself?'
She has pushed him away, and he is gone.
There is no more companionship, there is only solitude. But she's not alone. There is an angel somewhere, one that is telling her it's alright to let go. But she doesn't want to. He was her everything and at the same time her emptiness.
--
He hasn't come back and she's starting to wonder if he ever really existed.
She remembers him telling her that a thousand beautiful things could be found in the dark.
So where is it now?
There is no beauty in a world of black.
So where is it now?
Death will not make her smile, for she has already seen it, felt it, and heard it.
So where is it now?
--
Her eyes open, and he is there.
--
Her thousand beautiful things.