Blood Velvet
Summary: The point of Russia's insanity causes him to like the scariest things.
Warning: Suggested gore, psychotic tendencies, Russia
A/N: I needed to post this… It just came to me and needed to be written. Please read and review. Enjoy!
As the cloth covered the iron pipe, the owner of said pipe remained silent. Dark red mixed with off white in a dance that only brought despair. He scrubbed the pipe, feeling the deep colored liquid touch his pale skin through the slim fabric.
Blood.
Even now, after seeing it so many times, it still fascinated him. Just a small liquid that was the driving force of the human body. A small liquid that took them away from him. A small liquid that took them all.
His hands brushed against a small spot of dark red and registered an almost velvety feel. As he felt all of the red, it was all velvety. His own personal velvet.
His own blood velvet.
He never remembered it being this soft… Was there something different? Yes, he decided. It's because of my new interest in it, he decided. He kept rubbing the cloth on his hands, inducing more of the softness. He wanted more. He needed more.
Later, as he granted his want, his need, all he had to say to the reddened room was, "KoruKoruKoruKoruKoru…"