One could easily forget who this man was. His form distracted from his past, the weakness he caused his opponents to feel by merely standing there made one forget what this man really was.
Long silver hair shining against the moonlight…
Sharp golden eyes focused straight ahead, yet seeing every little detail of everything around him.
He was paler then the moon, shined brighter than the stars, so perfect he was that he looked sculpted on the finest of marbles by the finest of artists. An angel, serenely walking through the night, yet on his passing he left a trail of death.
One could easily forget who this man was, for he was not a man at all. This creature in a man's form, one of the greatest demons to ever grace the lands, the Killing Perfection.
His elegant white yukata flared with the wind as fresh blood dripped from diamond-like sharp claws. Pointy ears twitched with every little sound as he kept walking, as graceful as he was deadly.
But his form distracted from the past, the weakness he caused his opponents to feel by merely standing there made one forget who this man really was.
The Lord of the West, Sesshomaru, son of Inutaisho, and one of the greatest daiyoukais Japan ever saw.
The aristocratic Assassin, Sesshomaru, able to kill and revive with a single swing of his sword, the legendary Tenseiga, like he revived his faithful servant, the kappa demon Jaken, after he used him to test the sharpness of his deadly blade, the Toukijin. Like he revived a little human girl with a bright smile and broken teeth, who was bitten to death by wolves, and who liked flowers and the sun and Sesshomaru, but hated wolves. So he made sure she would never see wolves again in her life, and he allowed her to put flowers in his hair and he would take walks with her in the sun, and he would let her ride the two-headed dragon Ah-Un with him and cook messy meals for him. And when she was happy he was happy and when she was sad he was sad. But no one could tell, because he hid his emotions behind an unbreakable cold mask. Except her. Somehow she always knew. And she would always smile with a bright smile and broken teeth.
And then she didn't.
She wouldn't smile anymore, because her face was full of blood and dirt and tears.
She wouldn't smile anymore, because her head was separated from her small body, and her eyes were glazed over and unseeing.
Sesshomaru also couldn't smile anymore, because he returned bearing the best gifts and her in his thoughts, only to find the head of his little girl at the front of his burning palace.
He couldn't smile anymore, because the only reason he had ever smiled was her, his little girl, and she wasn't there with him anymore.
To outsiders, he looks unchanged, as if the treachery of his soldiers and the destruction of his palace were but a mere annoyance. He looks cold. Now colder than before, because his little girl is not there to warm him with her smiles anymore.
One could easily forget who this man was. His form distracted from his past and the weakness he caused his opponents to feel by merely standing there made one forget who this man really was.
He was the Killing Perfection, the Aristocratic Assassin, Sesshomaru, brought to his knees by fate.
He was the exiled prince, a King without a kingdom.
Wow, I haven't posted anything here in years. Well, hello!
I was inspired for this story by reading an insane amount of SessKag fics (even though this drabble does not contain slash). I got the idea of Rin's death by "Tales of the House of the Moon" (which you should 100% read btw). I hope you liked my attempt at an angsty drabble!