A/N: This is meant to be hmm… like a little teaser. The whole idea is the world looks perfects if all you're doing is looking, or it looks absolutely awful by the same rule. But more than commonly every thing isn't fairy tales and when you delve into something that looks perfect you end up wanting to, I don't know, off your self? It's kinda citrus in here but not too hard core because I lack the ability to write lemons. Trust me I love lemons, and if I could write one I would. I don't want you to be disappointed so if you are looking for straight up porn turn back.

Kairi/Naminé, Kairi POV, AU

Disclaimer: I don't own Kairi or Naminé.


~Angelus~

The world was green filtered and dapper. It was like a pleasant swim in pea soup, scalding hot and everything. I walked on the soiled green-grey masonry with virgin feet. I look back now and dream that I was an infant, with blue eyes that have not yet seen light. Everyday then was so solitary. I was, but also was not. Sure I lived, my heart thrummed like a sexual vein, but I never had la vie en rose. I was la vie en vomit. Everything was drowned in a sticky heat. Objects blended melted. People, faces, animals, everything was just chunks of green. And there I was the vomiteer. Always bathing the world in my sickly shadow.

I was living in the world of cement. All polished and glittery like a wet rhino in the dark mooned night. The stone creature was merely a beached whale keeping the tides at bay, creating water for thirsty ballroom gowns. Somehow it was seamless. All drenched in wet sheen, both the decaying rock and the stagnant water were streaked identically in a tarnished copper. The lifeblood from jack-o-lattern of a house. All eyes hardly any pumpkin. It's demon soul drowned out starlight with it's wrath. Inside gears turned in red velvet and blue satin spins to the Devil's harp.

This was my place as always. Sitting on the edge of hell in my own little liquid purgatory. No light, not even the solace of darkness. Though I was bade to enter the infirmatory of blushing plump girls and their mustaches my feet stayed planted. I would never be able to walk among them without yelps and stares. I did not look so out of place there. My little black slacks, white gentlemen's shirt, greasy dress shoes, and a server's vest with that little name tag forever purging me of the solace in anonymity. Still, somehow, I still felt as though my heart danced to the downbeat whilest they on the up, and that they all with their canine noses, would sort me out in only a moments time. Worse than punishment for a heady heart I would be converted and bleached. I would be "Thank you." and "Hello there." and "Have a great time." How completely faceless one must be to survive in grace.

I was fully content to be here forever on the edge of the world. It would have been fantastic to be all alone, contrary to the pumpkin eyes of the world who cling to one another because they haven't a self to keep them anchored. I could have been happy dreaming of colors that never were and dashing gentlemen who loved me dearly. I could have been living the life of kings. I could have. I really could have.

I would never say that I am wrong or ever was. Because I am never wrong and never will be. I really am happy all alone, and if I had to be alone ever again I would be happy. It was just my damming moment. A little girl was my damnation. Someone right as rainbows and shimmery sweet. I woke up that morning on the cusp of darkness, safe and warm, but fell asleep suffocating.

And there we were two girls with sweet enough faces, blushless of course, flittering around in purgatory.

I saw her first. She was like a dark marred scar across the surface of my ocean. Her little dainty feet were freed from their string tied prisons and danced in the dead water kicking up sprays and creating even round ripples. Pink toes, she had pink toes as smooth as cream dotted with perfectly manicured nude toenails. As little droplets of water found there way up her smooth shaven legs they turned into obnoxiously orange beads of light. Little flakes of her home world where people twirled and never got dizzy. It should have been sobering I suppose.

Yet somehow the little white beast was allowed out here without simmering away into the event horizon. She didn't look quite as wallish as I in this death-by-nightfall, all virgin pure head to toe in a creamy cool white she looked more like a child bride, not knowing whence she traversed. Somehow still the unwelcoming night lavished her, made the brightness of her obscene silks brighter still, and made her look more a queen of darkness in all her frills than any obsidian black shadow could ever be.

I knew then that I wasn't just looking at some little protégée wandered away from her haven. This was an demon sent from the hells to bring me home.

I walked toward her with steps of stone, feeling fire beneath my feet at the squeak of a god-awful shoe. The stone was still shining orange and I devoured it with my darkness, with my shadow, with my soul. It took till I was almost upon her for the little thing to stop her flailing about in the waters. It became as solid as a statue, yet delectable, as if carved of solid white chocolate. I ran a finger over an arm smoother than even her fine dress could have been. Then again, then again.

"I wondered if you'd ever come." the music played in my ear to the sound of a sweet piping little voice. The little creature turned her sordid face towards me, with big liquid drop eyes. I wanted to touch them suddenly. Squeeze the little balls out of her head and roll them around in my hand. She could have had mine in exchange if she wanted them.

A long flighty arm the color of dusk ivory rose to placate my stroking finger tips. The hands looked absolutely obscene tangled in each other. I thought she should melt under my touch, and hardly cared. I took a soft lick at her finger tip to see if I could taste the bitter chocolate. Then when it didn't melt away, took the whole thing into my shimmed mouth.

She looked amused. "I thought you had awfully lesbian hair," her fingers needled at my head without any real cause. Real delicate-like. All of her movements were sifted through a pink haze, rounding every little caress down to it's feminine core.

"Bite me." I nibbled her finger as hard as I dared.

"Where?" The tryst little thing swung her feet around to the other side of her little concrete bench, and was lit up orange and gross. Even enough to make a pretty thing like her simmer away in the after shocks. She rose up to her full height, hitting me eye to eye. I shoved her back down roughly.

She laughed melodically. "Am I too tall for you? You must be packing like a horse." One of her slithering hands groped at my zipper, eliciting a flinch, "Oh? Is that what you want dear? You're lucky you're a pretty thing." She clucked and licked at hers lips.

What a pretty little girl to be such a siren. What a waste.

I felt my cuff-linked hands moving on their own. On my knees, in seconds. I met those dead eyes again, still the prettiest damn things I've seen. She mewled like a wounded animal and fingered my vest.

We lunged towards each other at the exact same moment. I felt a sickly sheen of gloss on her lips and laved it up messily, coating our mouths with saliva. Almost instantly there was a tongue scalping out my mouth and I hardly knew I'd opened it enough to give her an opening. She flicked and flipped her tongue, an expert against mine, and kept reaching back further and further, aiming for a gag. I felt a moan bubbling out of my throat and the girl answered with a giggle, retrieving her tongue and biting down hard on my lower lip. I saw her grinning wildly running blood over her lips with a finger.

"Wanna bite back?" She tilted her head to the side seductively. A little bright orange trickle bled down her chin.

I smiled back and pressed that smile into the breast of her dress, staining it, then pulled away to gaze at the little mark. I could feel one of my hands going rouge and inching up her calf to catch the hem of a pretty white dress. Soft as silk.

"Coy mu--" I shoved her head back, contained, didn't want to end up killing her or anything. She didn't scream only gasped as a shiny hair pin dropped out of her hair and made a splash in the water. Her pretty golden locks danced over the spot where it sank like a rock. Those delicate hands which had clasped tightly on mine were shoved back over her head.

I pulled her roughly toward me letting her waist rest on the cement dam. She wiggled anxiously, and tried to pull her hands back up toward me, only to have them thrown back over her head.

"All I have to say is you better be a good fuck." she said it her increasingly pitchy voice, resigning her hands to their assigned place.

I pushed on her legs scraping her back and butt, and causing a little cheese grater pattern to appear on her skirts. "You're voice is the most annoying thing I've ever heard." I reached over her to swing her up like a doll. She kept silent like a good girl as I pulled the dress up to her middle and shoved her back, hanging over the little lake. Her dress collected around her shoulders affectively blinding her.

Little lacy white underwear clung to her, already damp at the core. Damn masochist. Either way they were easy disposed of. Somehow they found their way into my pocket.

"You know dear, anyone of those yutzes in there could turn around and see you spread eagle like a whore." I talked over her reddening lips, "I could get anyone of them out here to fuck you and you wouldn't know the difference."

"Oh please do," I shoved her back some more, until she had to grasp onto me with her legs to keep from falling. Her slender hips ground into the breast of my jacket, the solitary nametag branding her thigh. I adjusted myself to get the little thing wet with her juices until my name gleamed. The pretty thing cooed with the contact.

"Kairi…" she purred in a practiced pitch.

The sound.

The sound.

The sound.

It was like drops of blood, turpentine, sick, sick, sick, sick. At the end of everything lips and all this was what would end it? Why a second after happiness was hell fire adamant, were we just little moths being zapped in the flame I wonder.

This pretty thing. This angel of a thing, said my name. I never once told it to her. I was the proletariat and she the bourgeoisie. A woman thing or not, I was reaching the evolutionary prowess of a dildo. Nothing more than a BOG save for running on a harsh word and a pretty dame to deliver it.

Angel of death. Lady of sorrows. At first when I saw that pretty face, that childish youthful girl face I thought you were something good. A day-walker are you. Pretty in the face but the tongue lashes and stings. You succubi. You wraith. You're draining me of my soul. Can I be such a living creature again or will it all be blue waters rainy days, noxious green skies. Drown with me, drown with me, my love.

And it took all but a moment to shove my beloved angel in the water.