Porcelin Vase
The conversations ceased when the sound of breaking porcelin cracked through the air. On the floor, in shards, lay Naruto's favourite vase. The white porcelin scattered along the pristine white tiled floors, the blondes' tanned face now a feverish red of fury, his anger focused on a small, young, newly employed slave. The slave was still staring at the shards blankly before apathetic obsidian orbs stared back at his small frame.
He ended up screaming at the tops of his lungs for five minutes at the boy, though if anything, it had slightlty startled the blonde. The raven had simply apologized, many times, but never did his thin, pale face show any emotion, always staring back with blank, apathetic eyes.
The young raven now stood before the broken porcelin, staring blankly down at it. The other servants and slaves watched him, surprised as the boy knelt and began picking up the broken pieces of porcelin, small cuts appearing on his boney, pale hands. Piece by the porcelin disappeared from the gleeming tile, and once the porcelin was gone, the boy left to. The servants stared after him silently, praying for the pale boy with dark, apathetics eyes and soft inky locks, with small, slender hands coated in crimson, cradling broken porcelin as if it were his broken soul, his useless mask of apathetic indifference.
An hour had passed since the blonde had finished his screaming fit at the new slave. A knock sounded at his door, a mumbled 'come in' responded. The blonde didn't look up until his previously broken vase was in front of his face. The blondes' head shot up and met familiar apathetic dark eyes. Crimson fury engulfed sea blue eyes.
"What the HELL do you want, you worthless piece of SHIT?"
The raven blunk, unaffected.
"I fixed it."
Blue eyes widened, sliding down to meet a familiar porcelin vase. Blue eyes drifted over the expanse of porcelin, before catching on streaks of crimson. Pulling back the blondes' eyes widened.
"What the hell happened to your hands!?" The young ravens' gaze lowered to his scratched and scraped hands.
"I made sure not to get any blood on it."
The blondes' eyes softened, taking the vase form the raven he led the boy the other side of the desk, sitting him on top of it.
"I'm not worried about the vase."
The raven was silent as the blond gently tended to the his injured hands, pale ivory marred by seemingly thousands of crimson streaks.
Hours later found the blonde leaning against th wall by the ravens' bed, gazing down at the boy.
"I never liked that vase."
FIN