Erm, not really sure where this fic came from...;sweatdrop; So I'll just blame it on my short attention span! Sarah:;shakes head tiredly; Baka...

I don't own Yami no Matsuei! Or any dolls for that matter...Hm...Interesting, ne? And with that weird little disclaimer-deal...On with the drabble/story/thing!!!

Doll

It was a commonly known fact. Dolls always looked the most beautiful whenever their fragile forms were surrounded by roses. The delicate variations of red and pink resting on cold white china faces were utterly stunning, almost breathtaking in their utter indifference toward the dead beauty surrounding them. One after another, the innocent roses died to make the unfeeling doll look alive, to create the illusion of humanity in those cold glassy eyes as they watched the world collapse about them. The unattainable beauty of a doll is in the unliving darkness it carries within itself and the perfect illusion that it is still completely human...

Muraki's smile was predatory as he gave a mocking bow to the startleded shinigami. The shinigami quickly glanced about the lavish room, searching for any traps the evil doctor may have planted. He was so concentrated on his task that the god of death almost jumped when Muraki stretched out his arm, calmly offering the beautiful bouquet of red blossoms to the purple-eyed man before him. "Here are some lovely Queen Elizabeth roses just for you, my sweet Tsuzuki-san..."

Weird, ne? ;shrug; Anywho, please leave me comments!