Always
Warning: Het. Mentioned Torture. Blood. Sadism. Mass Death.
Disclaimer: I don't own Claymore.
Pairing: Riful/Dauf
Notes: This is set before the series starts, the last one is from Clare, Jean and Galatea's fight with Dauf when Riful transforms to prevent him from dying.
Word Count: 881 (only actual Drabble)
Always
A small giggle escaped Riful as she gazed at the masses of dead bodies in front of her, Claymore and yoma alike that had tried to kill her or make her their mate.
Riful had accepted some of their offers, she had thought a few of them would be able to handle her playfulness which others had deemed sadism, but they had not. They had all broken, and those who had not, had died at her hand when they had turned their sword to her. If their was one thing that never failed to get on her nerves, it was a pathetic, arrogant young Claymores that would end up cowering at her feet after their defeat, or even when she showed the slightest hint of her true form, begging for mercy. It was a pathetic way to die.
Soon enough, the Organization gave up trying to slay her and had given her the title as an Abyssal One—Riful of the West.
She had liked it. But she had been alone, and being alone for so long just wasn't...pleasing. But any lover she took always broke, she was too playful for them, too rough. She relished in their blood too much and they could not handle it.
But this man was doing just fine, Riful thought, her childish giggle making the blond man look up, his face set not to give up as he let out a scream for her as she stabbed him again, through the abdomen, knowing full well how much his screaming pleased who he hoped to make his mate.
"My, my, you are strong! And so much fun. Tell me, could you handle this for eternity? Could you stay by my side and fulfill my every wish?"
Riful smiled, titling her head to the side so her long brown hair swept to the side, her smile warm and childish.
Blue eyes, determined and strong, but not all that intelligent, nodded dazedly, drinking in the sight of the angel whom he wished to make his mate.
"Always. Make you happy, wanna make you happy, Riful," He grunted reverently, his adoration obvious.
Riful giggled, releasing him from the binds that held him together through his wrists and ankles, taking her time as she slowly twisted the fleshy-strips that sprouted from her small, dainty arm, looking very much out of place on her petite, childish body with her warm, innocent smile and wide chocolate brown eyes.
"You wish to make me happy, then?"
Riful asked, smiling widely. Dauf, the muscular blond man in front of her, for he had changed as well, neither taking notice of the other's state of undress.
"Always!"
Dauf replied eagerly, earning another smile as she leaned forward and held up a single, pale finger.
"I am hungry, Dauf. If you can satisfy my hunger...I will take you as my mate," Riful ordered, sitting up straighter as the blond man quickly nodded, moving out to fetch Riful her meal.
-
-
A day later and Riful sighed, pouting as she stared up into the broken ceiling of her make-shift castle, semi-disappointed that her would-be-lover did not make it. Her disappointment did not last long, however.
"Riful!"
Dauf exclaimed happily, panting and running up to her, his body coated and dripping in blood. The scent was delicious.
"Please, Riful, come with me. I have your meal," Dauf grinned proudly, looking like he would very much like to hold her hand.
But hand holding was reserved for mates, and he had yet to prove himself worthy.
Riful followed, her small steps easily keeping up with Dauf's massive ones, and soon they arrived at a village. Or what used to be a village, at least.
Houses were torn up, blood covered every inch of the land like a crimson blanket and dead bodies lay in multiple piles throughout the village, woman, men and children gazed lifelessly into the sky, their stomachs and abdomens missing, for they all lay on the only clean bit of land, on top of multiple sheets of mismatched table clothes, looking delicious to Riful, who hadn't lied when she had claimed she was hungry.
Dauf wrung his hands worriedly as she circled it, looking at it critically.
"Does it please you?"
Dauf's gaze didn't falter from Riful, whose gaze in turn did not falter from the feast in front of her. A surprisingly real smile made it's home on her face, and Riful took Dauf's hand as her answer.
"If you would really wish to make your mate happy, you would feed her," Riful giggled, taking a seat on the only clean spot in the area and waiting for Dauf to scramble to offer a delectable piece of human guts to her lips, the blood dripping from the tender, juicy piece so beautifully.
"Always make you happy," Dauf grunted feeding his mate with great care.
-
-
Smiling, Riful carefully lifted her moaning and bleeding mate, watching the three Claymore leave before turning to her mate and sighing, rolling her eyes slightly.
"Stop whining, Dauf, you never complain like this when we play," Riful complained, pouting, "Why is that? Am I losing my touch?"
"No! Riful's perfect," Dauf gasped, his whimpers ceasing at the orders of his lovers.
"Really?" Riful questioned, smiling.
"Always."