Back again! Tierkreis and GX drabbles are all just lying in wait in my notebook.
HAHA. Kinda lazy to type them up, but I will eventually!
These fandoms need more love after all, especially Tierkreis. PLAY IT. /shot
Colors
A Yu-Gi-Oh GX Drabble
[What is "Color"?]
Your still silhouette against the soft glow of the setting sun, casting warm shades around the edges of your stone cold face, seeming to soften it for the briefest moment, though I know deep in my heart that it is an illusion; a mere trick of the light so they say. Your innocence and happiness long gone as scattered blurs of harsh vermillion and pale violet push violently against each other in one last battle across the sky
[It's right behind you. The sky.]
before they fade into the dead-set darkness of the night; as you too have done when the world moved on.
[You've been chasing it for quite a while. I tried to follow you, you know.]
It was something that I should have seen, as your masterpiece, the artwork you designed so lovingly, whom you brought all the color and life of the world into. It was my godforsaken duty, my responsibility, my sole purpose in this life to protect the one who created me, made me whole. And yet you faded, almost as quickly as your hand drew across the blank page
[Rough coffee-stained canvas, edges yellowed from neglect and slightly curling in.]
and all did was stand by and watch you deteriorate, this useless masterpiece, monochrome beauty incarnate yet flat and empty behind the carefully applied strokes of the brush. Hell, I couldn't even stop myself from forsaking you too when things got out of hand, blaming you and saying you ruined the whole canvas, while unfazed, you blotted unfamiliar shades that only brought fear and menace as they curled with the water, spreading out towards me, digging their fingers into my skin.
What I realized too late however was that the paint
[Sweet hazel.]
was meant to protect me after all, that everything was for my own good. How I remember the feel of the different hues, the bleeding reds, blacks, gleaming gold, bruise across my flesh, crawl into my veins and become part of me, cold and unrelenting, a paradox of warmth and cruelty, and yet protecting me, holding me ever so delicately…
…ever so lovingly.
I reach out slightly and brush my hand against yours, a simple, honest gesture unseen by the deep green of the tall grass that surrounds us, sheltering us from the changing world. They sway along with the gentle evening breeze, resembling the curt nods of doubtful approval from the professors back at The Academy.
(It's alright, we won't tell. We won't tell.)
Your hand immediately curls into a tight fist and you pull away slightly, still looking out towards the setting sun as it makes its final dance into the deep blue of the ocean. Your eyes hold nothing, almost as if they were but dull imitations of the small brown marbles that anchored themselves deeply into the pearly white of the beach sand below.
They were dead to the world, dead to the gentle ocean as it tossed the sand around gently in the waves, searching for them underground, urging them to move again.
Such emptiness.
Color is the empty glass surface of the ocean that is reflected in your eyes.
It is the way the sky darkens around you as you unknowingly wrap your arms around yourself, gazing blankly towards the horizon, not registering my presence beside you at all; a flat black and white as opposed to your dying scarlet.
It is the way you slowly fade away from my reach, losing yourself in the chaotic blur of electric blue and selfish gold.
And yet color is the gentle wave that pulls out and reaches for the treasures underneath the blank white of the sand. It is the battlefield in the setting sky as it all mixes and pulls against each other in a final struggle not to drown in the night; the dying fighters' blood enveloping the two of us under their soft, disappearing light – a proof of their resilience, their courage.
It is the me in this world, this unfinished masterpiece, seeking the rest of myself in the far away you that's almost within my grasp.
[What is "Color"?]
It is the me that will bleed across the white surface of the canvas, staining it just to reach you.
Yay! A little fic about our favorite little slacker-hater reacting to Haou!Jaden for once!
Heehee. I like it when little Manjoume gets all emotional and angsty cuz of that adorable little oh-so-shippable Judai~
Just can't stand how the doc editor won't allow you to put lines and spaces and such in between dramatic areas =3=;;
ACCURSED THING D8
Ah well...; 'til next time~!