Insanity
He enters the room. Leavening the black nothingness for the darkly furnished room. As he stepped inside the blood flowing from the wound on his chest drained black, instead of red and covered his lean form, creating a dark pinstripe suit. He grinned.
The room was black. Dark with dim blue lights like the glow of souls off to the sides.
He waited. For the demon and his promises of power. For the queue to play. For his love.
He waited, surrounded by darkness and candles. The feelings in the air electric and sharp. Like blood.
Madness.
Heels on the checkered tile. His grin widened as they got closer. Red. Black. Red. Black. Continuing without end. A never ending pattern. Like the music. It looped and scratched. The jazz echoed loud but dull. It bored him. The repetition. The monotony.
Change. Yes, he wanted change. But to get it he must give more up to the madness.
"Soul,"
She is here. His love. He turned to her, sinister smile on his face hesitantly returned by her. Her normally pupil less eyes now revealing the pitch black centre. Black. Like the room, with the never ending tiles and music. Boring.
But surrounded by green. Green swirling with emotion. Green is different. Their was no place for green here.
He watches.
She makes her way across the room. Red. Black. Red. Black. Her dress pure darkness, sweeping around her ankles. Brushing her legs.
She stands close.
The scent of blood more strong now. But is also joined by something else. He cannot place it.
He thinks it's her.
It's sweet, different from the monotony of the blood, the repetition and the insanity.
She fixes his tie if only for something to do as the demon steps out. His blood red face contorted into a evil grimace. His suit all sharp angles and darkness folds over him. It fits the demon like a glove, as does his own.
"Are you going to play?" The demon askes and Maka releases a light giggle. A laugh tainted with madness. Dark as the moon.
He grins and makes his way to the piano and lifts the cover off the keys before covering the keys delicately, lovingly with his hands.
Her hands place themselves on his shoulders. Light as air. As feathers. As innocent souls.
His hands raise up then crash down. The notes echoing. Loud vibrant. Green.
Her grip on his shoulders tightens and he plays more. Embracing the madness. The change.
The bloody smell is stronger now. The keys of the piano bleed black. Covering his hands. He stops. Turns.
She is still behind him. Her face clean and pure, unmarked.
He reaches his hand up. Cups her cheek. Brushes her short bangs back from her face. His bloody black hands leaving prints on her. Marking her.
The madness swells and he turns back to the piano. She wraps her arms around his neck and rests her face beside his own.
He could kiss her. He won't. Not yet. That would break the monotony.
He plays, the sounds loud. A rainbow of colours. Dominantly green. Like her eyes. His love.
The madness swells again. The lights in the room, so like souls dim, and some flicker out. She giggles, he laughs and then he is kissing her. Soft yet demanding, unrelenting towards her. She returns the kiss.
The monotony is broken. The tiles warp. Twisting and spiralling. Running red. Bloody. A new sound joining the melody on the piano and the jazz. The dark is no longer sufficating. It's freeing.
This is madness, he thinks as he pulls away, a grin marring his face. She giggles darkly. Pupils black as the moon and just as round.
He pecks her lips again and this time her grin matches his own. Her face dark were he had touched her. The black of the keys. Of his soul. His madness.
"Soul Resonance," they scream.