Title: Candlelight
Author: Daisy
Fandom: South Park
Setting: Firkle's Bedroom
Pairing: Ike Broflovski/Firkle
Characters: Ike Broflovski, Firkle
Genre: Romance/Horror
Rating: T
Chapters: 1/1
Word Count: 349
Type of Work: Drabble
Status: Complete
Warnings: Gay, Slash, Yaoi, Ike POV, Animal Death, Witchcraft, Blood Rituals
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Summary: Ike can't possibly get over how beautiful Firkle is in these moments.
AN: So, I feel really behind, because I've run into some stuff. I finally got some good news, so hopefully things will go smoother. Though I really need to start working on a backlog because on the 19th I'm going to be moving and I don't know what my internet situation will be like. xD So, yeah. I hope you guys have fun with this, I know I did!
Candlelight ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It burned around him, lighting up his nearly too blue eyes, candles lit on just about every available surface of his room. The only way to describe him is sublime.
He is beauty. I wouldn't say he's necessarily beautiful. It just doesn't say enough. His eyes are a cloudless spring day's sky, his voice is the morning dew, his temper is a hurricane's might. The way he looks at me, sometimes, it's like the entire ocean is grinning up at me, it's darkness and its shallow waters alight with something mysterious and deep. Firkle is more than human; he's transcendent, he's an unearthly being trapped by the mortal coil and intrigued by it. Maybe that was why he was always killing things, always taking them apart.
As he chanted, all I could think of was just how shockingly perfect he looked, bent over his altar in his room, sharing with me something he'd never think of outside of his friend group.
The knife he raises above his head is obviously the same one he's always had, and I feel a sharp pang of undue pleasure as he plunges it into the chest of the already half-dead squirrel he found on some street corner. My breath comes in sharp gasps and I have to hold back the urge to kiss him. I've never seen anything so disturbing and precious in my entire life.
He's speaking again, and all I can do is focus on the movement of his lips, on the way he sways a little as he evokes whatever God listens to disturbed eighteen year old goths. I know my life is going to be different forever after this. There's no way that seeing this won't change me, but I don't know if it's for the better or worse. Either way, I can't bring myself to care. As soon as his ritual is done, I yank him over and kiss him hard. He pushes into it like a being made of seduction, and I know in my heart that I will never be able to let go.
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