Silence
I thought I could keep Bakura in character, but he just went off the deep end. His character has been lost forever, I'm afraid. ;.; And… this is a pointless fic, I'm telling you now. Oh, and it's short. … Yep, that's pretty much it.
Can someone give me a better name for it, please? I'm horrible with names! (I know, I know, I'm begging... --; How pathetic...)
This fic was written in about… mm… 2 hours. --;
Disclaimer: … NO.
"I already explained this to you," the spirit of the Ring said patiently, "this was for your own good."
In front of Bakura, a woman sat comfortably in an armchair. Long blonde hair pooled over her shoulder in dull waves, looking as if it hadn't been washed in weeks. She wore a short, plum mini-skirt and a matching jacket, and a white blouse underneath that was ripped and worn on the edges, as if someone had forced it on her. Her cheeks had hollowed slightly, giving her face a haunted look, and her violet eyes stared vacantly ahead at him. It was Mai Kujaku sitting in the Bakura apartment.
Bakura shook his head despondently, cupping her chin and kissing her tenderly. When Mai didn't respond, Bakura bit her lip viciously until it bled, then gently lapped up the blood that bubbled up and ran down her chin.
"So sweet…" he crooned, "like a fine wine." He put his thumb to her lips, smearing the blood across and painting them a deep red. "So beautiful…"
He waited for a response, and when there was none, he continued.
"Look how fragile this body is. Without food, it withers away. It cuts easily, it bruises easily… and now, thanks to me, you will live forever."
Blank violet eyes stared back at him. Bakura pulled himself back, a calculating look on his face.
"You're thinking about him, aren't you," said Bakura quietly, brown eyes narrowing in fury. "I told you to stop. I told you to stop that. You know I don't like that."
Mai said nothing.
Bakura, with an angry growl, fished something out of his pocket and threw it to the ground.
"Jounouchi is right here, Mai! Right here!"
The wooden doll stared up at the two of them with a pleading look, painted amber eyes begging silently for release, perhaps, or something else entirely. Its mouth was shut, giving the doll a solemn, resigned look. It was dressed in a plain t-shirt, a pair of baggy jeans and worn-out trainers. His once-blond hair, now a cheap yellow imitation, held onto the wooden head in a messy clump. Bakura stared down at it hatefully, then turned back to the lifeless body in the chair.
"I've brought him to you," said Bakura, almost desperately, his eyes searching Mai's own. "You wanted him, didn't you? That's what you wanted – I know you, Mai, I know you better then any of the others –" and he pointed at the doll accusingly, "I knew you better then he ever did!"
A loud slap reverberated around the apartment. Bakura stared, his arm still extended, at the red handprint slowly appearing on Mai's pale cheek. Her head had fallen forward, still rolling slowly back and forth limply from the force of the impact.
Bakura was breathing heavily now. "What is it that makes him so much better then me? I've taken care of you so far, haven't I? And that was for your own good," he added wearily, giving the doll on the floor a withering glare as if it had delivered the blow.
Glassy eyes glared at and through him, and his breath caught in his throat.
"I went out of my way," Bakura said, his voice laced with barely veiled anger, "to bring him to you, and this is how you thank me? You won't speak to me! Not once!" His voice suddenly dropped to a whisper, low and menacing, and he lifted his foot so his heel was hovering over the doll.
A minute passed. Bakura let out a feral growl and smashed the doll with his foot, never taking his eyes off of Mai. Lifting his foot up carefully, he bared his teeth in a grin at the doll that lay in pieces on the floor.
Grinding the pieces into a fine powder with his foot, a deep maniacal cackle, growing louder and louder until it was deafening, echoed around the apartment. Bakura, lifting his foot up carefully, bent down and examined the mess on the carpet. "Oh, that will be hard to get out…"
To Mai he said, when his hands were tangled in her hair and his lips were caressing her ear, "It's just you and me now, just us, we're alone, finally…!"
He let out a breathy giggle, running his hand through her blonde hair. "He's gone now, he's gone…" Humming a cheerful tune, he left her side to carefully gather what was left of the doll into his hand. Bakura sprinkled the remains over Mai, the dust settling in her hair; it looked like a curtain of golden spun silk
"I shall steal the world for you, my darling Mai," Bakura murmured, nibbling her earlobe gently. "You will have no choice then. As soon as I defeat the pharaoh, everything will crumble. Then you will be mine."
In the figurine castle, a small wooden doll, blonde locks tied back in an elaborate braid and painted violet eyes squeezed tightly shut, let out a soft sob.
Okay, we're ignoring the fact that a wooden doll isn't that easy to break. --; Bakura used some freaky powers to make it delicate, maybe…
Anyways... er... I tried? Eh heh heh... Reviews are nice, and tips on improvement is even better.