Disclaimer: All characters and locations belong to their respective owners.
The Waiting Game
He slips through the crack in the door and stops at the edge of the bed, staring at his charge's face with unblinking ruby disks.
Kaname Madoka is beautiful when she sleeps, but she would be more beautiful if she were awake. A lack of motion can only do so much before subtlety becomes visible and the message is lost in translation. A person in motion, on the other hand, defines action in all its forms, from slow, rusted relaxation to smooth, erratic anger. In that context the message is propelled, a kinetic Rube Goldberg machine whose purpose is to conduct the simplest action and deliver said action in complex fashion in a matter of seconds. An apparatus of that caliber, a human being, must complete the the action in its entirety for it to segue into a sequel, and so on and so forth until it creates a sequence both fluid, precise, and uninterrupted.
Ah, but not all sequences are exquisite. Most are rough and unhinged, creaking joints and rusted movement like a door that has gone a long time without oil. Some are as fine-tuned and taut as guitar strings, acting on released endorphins and in control with body, mind, and weapon, a state of perfect harmony until the cord snaps and serendipity screeches to an abrupt standstill that more or less has the infallible intention to slam headfirst into a concrete wall and crack the skull open.
But only few exhibit the liquid grace we yearn to have, camera-shutter flashes sluicing rapid currents in our veins, a taste of what is close but never within the cusp of our bony, stubby fingertips. A secret - or perhaps not-so secret - shame for man who was molded in the image of a god.
He can change that. He can take that shame and turn it into something magical, miraculous, so exquisitely divine.
He can make it possible.
And Kaname Madoka, Kyubey decides as he leaps onto the bed and curls in the hollow of the girl's chest, will help make it happen.
Give her time, he thinks, closing his eyes to her hand brushing snake-like across his belly. She'll give in.
Nothing lasts forever.
"Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour."
- 1 Peter 5:8