I'm back and somewhat out of my writer's rut. I'm pretty happy with this piece because we ALL know how much I love to make D a little bitch- I mean- SENSITIVE. Yes. We'll go with that. But this was more written on a whim dedicated to Elizabeth Bathory (who died on my birthday, score) and D because I think she would have made an awesome mother for D.
But, I put it in Mature. Cause that's how I roll. And because I wanted to try the Mature audience.
Memories Coldest Winter
Summary: No matter how many snowfalls D has experienced. They always left him breathless like the time he had with her…
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"Slowing down for a little snow isn't always your style when you're on a hunt! Figure!"
The voice remained silent due to the hunter's strange hush. The stoic nature of the man was always alluring even to the parasite, as much as he would amusingly deny it, as he had seen the man- no- being grow into the hunter standing with him now.
"It reminds you of her doesn't it, you big softie."
D lowered his head beneath the large, dark hat as a strange melody seemed to play with the snow falling. Each piece was individual, never the same. His thoughts, frightening congested, were falling apart within his calm expression and still stance. The horse reigns lowered from his hands as he allowed it to slip from his grasp as a lock of hair upon a child's head.
His feelings were much more open in the stillness of the strange wood as the thick branches of the trees blotted most of the light with the exception of small beams through the thin leaves.
A man's heart is truly his own, as unreadable as it seems, only he can understand its depth and peculiarity. D leaned slightly, caught off guard by himself, and plummeted into the soft snow which was freshly fallen. The blackness of his suit ands cape clashed obscenely against the pure white snow.
He felt blood tainting sheets. White satin sheets.
Much like the ones she used to call him to with a pat on the mattress and a laugh lingering in the air. Age showed in her beauty; something he knew disturbed her greatly as she was usually hot tempered to remarks on small lines showing on her face. Closing his eyes with a tilt of his head, taking a few curls from the luscious brunette tresses along with the angle, his memories lingered.
Her laughter.
Her insanity.
Her carriage rides during the night.
Eventually, her downfall.
In this moment of weakness, he felt, a presence linger beside him. She lingered beside him, her face radiant and cast behind a veil to hide her features. She was afraid. Always afraid.
Rising from the snow, the hunter sat up with a contented sigh as the breeze slapped across his face without mercy.
"Indeed, we have… wasted much time."
Was all he could muster before climbing upon his stallion without another word of hesitation and clutching the harsh material of the reign between his fingers he gripped them with the emotions he felt now. Emotions he had to hide.
For a hunter is skilled in the art of hiding. Their memories are their greatest weakness. Possibly, D has skewed his over the years that they have become… more like a Cold Winter.
It existed; but becomes forgotten by everyone but those who cling on to a happy smile upon the day of the winter. Relinquishing the days he smiled, the days he laughed and the days that brought him her warmth…. Until he could do such at thing…. He would never truly be a hunter.
Kukukachu?