Why hello there. You all thought I was dead, didn't you? Well, i'm not, but I might as well be. Man this is not very good writing. I apologize. But it's a comeback.
What do you expect from one in the morning and MIKA. Jeeze. Expect more. Maybe.
Hellsing isn't mine.
Read and review.
...MIKA is a musical artist.
What a red moon
And whose is it
Children?
--Issa
He entered, wet with blood and dark with red. Integra's hands were clasped behind her back and her neck prickled with his entrance. His icy movements came through the room and she could hear the blood drip off the corner of his coat as if water running off the corner of a photograph. His boots squeaked with wetness. He fingers knitted together and came apart. He watched her without words. Their eyes never met. Their lips not moving. He smirked.
"It is done, my master," he said and she knew what he meant. She felt her shoulders tighten at his words and quickly relaxed. Another mission completed well. Done. Finished.
The earth would soon awaken and swallow the blood whole. They called it cleansed. The bodies would return to dust, to ashes. Everything would be one again.
The order for elimination was frightening to the sixteen year old girl, even at this age. Even after giving so many orders like it. Did he arrive in her study to taunt her? To show her that he was a creature, nay a slave, worthy of her praise due to his perfection in the art of killing?
Soil red.
Sky dark.
Moon bright.
She felt her throat tightened and he bowed, even though she couldn't see him doing it. She knew, though. She knew that he was bowing his way into her good graces. She knew that he was attempting to make her happy. These general acts of show were his to put on. He enjoyed it, he had to, or else he would never do it. He would not bow to her unless he wanted praise. He always wanted praise. A slave craved.
"Good," she breathed. Her breath fogged the window before her and she resisted the urge to draw a symbol in the fog. Something. She wanted to trace the moon. Blood red this night, in it's full state.
"Good?"
"Well done," she whispered and he smirked. A chuckle escaped and wandered the room before disappearing altogether. Integra frowned and turned to look at her slave. He pet.
He dripped still, blood dark on her tile floor. It could have been water in the darkness of the room, but the smell of coins betrayed him. She sighed and stepped toward him.
"Do you think this impresses me?" she asked and smirked. "Please, Vampire."
He smirked back, a nonchalant sort of thing if any.
"Such a red moon on this night. And whose is it, Integra?"
She stood still, examining him.
"For you, my master, as always."
