Disclaimer: I don't own FF7, Tseng, or Elena.

Inspired by a poem I read today, called 'The Last Duchess'…I forgot by whom. I read it and decided that writing morbid, twisted characters would be fun.

I am slowly but surely deviating from my original genre, humour…

Let's see how this goes.

I'm warning you now, it's short.

Feedback appreciated. Greatly.

My Little China Doll

You wake earlier than usual this morning, almost as early as me. I see your eyelids flutter open like drowsy butterflies, just as the red crack of dawn spreads across the pastel sky. Your blue eyes reflect the sepia tones of the sunrise, and I can't help but hold my breath as I admire your perfection.

You look so beautiful the way you are: naked, in my bed, your neck so smooth and white, so inviting. So breakable, so delicate, just like a little china doll.

My own little Eos, I whisper in your ear. Your cheeks flush, a soft, rosy colour filling their snowy expanse, and once again, I find myself admiring the exquisite curves and lines of your body.

You attempt to rise, but I gently place my hand on your chest and push you back down. Stay, I whisper again. Stay still, my love.

You submit, your lips twisting in a soft, loving smile, but your eyes gleam apprehensively. I kiss you softly, savouring the bittersweet taste of your petal lips. I want to break the skin, and taste the passion in the blood that flows through your veins, but I restrain myself. Those scarlet drops will mar your ethereal form.

Slowly, I let my fingers run over your face, tracing every contour and slight imperfection. You fidget. It's uncomfortable, you whisper. Don't do it.

I stick my lower lip out petulantly, but withdraw my hand.

Once again, you attempt to rise, and once again, I push you back down on the bed. Stay, I whisper, stay with me, my pet.

I'm not your pet.

You don't say the words, but I can feel them on your tongue, see them dance in the hard light that suddenly appears in your eyes.

Displeasure doesn't suit your face. It makes you look so commonplace, so ordinary.

Almost ugly.

I want to keep you happy, to keep you smiling. I don't want to see melancholy soil your pristine beauty.

I want you to stand beside me, still and speechless, just like a little china doll.

Is that too much, I ask?

I'm not a possession, you spit.

White-hot rage sears through my veins. Ungrateful wretch! Of its own accord, my hand lifts itself and slaps you hard across the face, leaving a livid, red imprint on the white skin.

Tears shine in your eyes, threatening to spill over. I know that with a single whisper, a single caress, I can destroy the wall you've built around yourself and release all the pain bottled up inside. But I won't. You look so beautiful the way you are: naked, save for the peach blanket you've wrapped around yourself in a perfunctory display of modesty, your silky gold locks tickling the snow white nape of your neck, your perfect rosebud mouth slightly parted, revealing pearly teeth. So fragile, so delicate.

I brush my lips against the smooth skin of your neck, and when I look at your face, I see a single crystal drop trailing down the porcelain expanse of your cheek. I would brush it away, but it looks so perfect there.

The tears flow freely now, but I will not hold you close to me and whisper comforting lies into your ears. You look so beautiful, lying in my bed, tears clinging to your dark lashes like sparkling diamonds. Like a priceless work of art.

Stay still, my love. Let this moment last for as long as it can.

Stay still, just like a little china doll.