I know I have a ton of other updates to do, but the plot bunnies wouldn't leave me alone. In English class, we're studying the poem 'Porphyria's Lover' by Robert Browning. The content of the poem got me thinking: What if I made the lover Road and the Prophyria Allen? Just to say: RoadxAllen creeps me out. A lot. I don't like it, but that is the only pairing I could think of for this.
Disclaimer: I don't own D Gray man, or 'Porphyria's Lover'. All rights to the poem go to Robert Browning. Read the poem, it's good!
The rain set early in tonight
The sullen wind was soon awake,
It tore the elm-tops down for spite,
And did its worst to vex the lake:
I listened with heart fit to break.
When sauntered in Allen; straight
He shut the cold out and the storm,
And kneeled and made the cheerless grate
Blaze up, and all the Ark warm;
Which done, he rose, and from his form
Withdrew the dripping cloak, devoid of fray,
And laid his soiled gloves by, untied
the crimson ribbon and let the damp hair stay,
And, last, he sat down by my side
And called me. When no voice replied,
he put his arm about my waist,
And made his cursed black shoulder bare,
And all his snowy hair displaced,
And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,
And spread, o'er all, his snowy hair,
Murmuring how he loved me—he
Too weak, for all his heart's endeavour,
To set its struggling passion free
From the Black Order, and vainer ties dissever,
And give himself to me forever.
But passion sometimes would prevail,
Nor could to-night's gay feast restrain
A sudden thought of one so pale
For love of his, and all in vain:
So, he was come through wind and rain.
Be sure I looked up at his eyes
Happy and proud; at last I knew
Allen worshipped me; surprise
Made my cold heart swell, and still it grew
While I debated what to do.
That moment he was mine, mine, fair,
Perfectly pure and good: I found
A thing to do, with the ribbon right there
In one long red string I wound
Two times his little throat around,
And strangled him. No pain felt he;
I am quite sure he felt no pain.
As a shut bud that holds a bee,
I warily opened his lids: again
Laughed the silver eyes without a stain.
And I untightened next the tangled mess,
About his neck; his cheek once more
Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss:
I propped his head up as before,
Only, this time my shoulder bore
His head, which droops upon it still:
The smiling rosy little head,
So glad it has its utmost will,
That all it scorned at once is fled,
And I, its love, am gained instead!
Allen's love: she guessed not how
His darling one wish would be heard.
And thus we sit together now,
And all night long we have not stirred,
And yet God has not said a word!
Sorry about the spacing, it's how the poem was originally laid out. Not much editing went on – I just changed all the 'her' to 'him', and all the feminine things into Allen's stuff. The murder weapon was also different in the original! Ah well, it was just a thing to put out there, nothing else :) - Cain