Disclaimer: I own nothing, I don't intend to claim that I own anything, etc. etc. etc., I'm just doing this for the hell of it, not to make any profit, blah blah blah.
Warnings: Implied self-mutilation. No gore, minimal blood, no swearing, sex, yaoi, yuri, no problem.
Authors Note: I'm calling Bierrez 'Viaresu' and Ruwalk 'Luwalk', because I think they sound prettier. This is a SHORT character study. Like...less than 1 whole page. I don't like doing long epic tales...not enough patience. XP. If you flame me I will find a use for that flame, like burning junk mail or roasting marshmallows. If you like it, please review!
Sharp
Rath Illuser liked dogs. Always had. He liked the fact that they could keep a secret forever, he liked their friendliness, he liked burying his face in their fur and receiving comfort when there was no other way to get it. He liked their loyalty and their simplicity. Rath liked cooking, as well. Actually, it wasn't so much that he liked cooking as he was interested in it. Rath was interested in it because it used fire, and because food tasted good. Not when he made it, though. Cesia never did teach him how to cook....
Speaking of Cesia, Rath liked her, too. He liked how she was adamant about not letting him die, he liked how she said she hated him, he liked her golden dragon eyes that reminded him of Raseleane, and he liked her long wavy hair. He liked how different she was from him, how she wanted to live. Like Kaistern.
Rath liked Kaistern, too, but he didn't like to think about him much.
Rath also liked books; he liked the smell of books, he liked the stories they told, he liked them because they made him forget about the world for awhile, and because, when angled properly, you could hide your face behind them to avoid people you didn't want to talk to, like Luwalk or Lykouleon or Viaresu or even, on occasion, Thatz.
Which was exactly what he was doing at the moment.
Rath did not like silence, and silence reigned supreme in the castle. Silence came with the aftermath of the war, with the pained grief of a catastrophic death toll. Rath didn't like the worry lines that had formed on Thatz's once carefree face, he didn't like the pained expression that Rune wore whenever he was around Rath, he didn't like the awkwardness between them, even though they had told him that nothing had changed. Rath did not like the post-war atmosphere.
But what rath did like were sharp objects. He loved how they could dig deeper than the surface, how they could draw a lazy ribbon of crimson blood from his arm so easily, how they could inflict such pain and yet end all his suffering. He liked how he was addicted to their smooth, hard lines, how they could temporarily make him focus on something a little less potent that the memories in his mind, how the blade offered him something to do besides think about Kaistern or Thatz or Rune or Alfeage or Lykouleon or Nadil or Crewger or Illuser or Kharl or demons or snow or depression or the death count or the war or himself.
Rath liked sharp objects most of all.
Warnings: Implied self-mutilation. No gore, minimal blood, no swearing, sex, yaoi, yuri, no problem.
Authors Note: I'm calling Bierrez 'Viaresu' and Ruwalk 'Luwalk', because I think they sound prettier. This is a SHORT character study. Like...less than 1 whole page. I don't like doing long epic tales...not enough patience. XP. If you flame me I will find a use for that flame, like burning junk mail or roasting marshmallows. If you like it, please review!
Sharp
Rath Illuser liked dogs. Always had. He liked the fact that they could keep a secret forever, he liked their friendliness, he liked burying his face in their fur and receiving comfort when there was no other way to get it. He liked their loyalty and their simplicity. Rath liked cooking, as well. Actually, it wasn't so much that he liked cooking as he was interested in it. Rath was interested in it because it used fire, and because food tasted good. Not when he made it, though. Cesia never did teach him how to cook....
Speaking of Cesia, Rath liked her, too. He liked how she was adamant about not letting him die, he liked how she said she hated him, he liked her golden dragon eyes that reminded him of Raseleane, and he liked her long wavy hair. He liked how different she was from him, how she wanted to live. Like Kaistern.
Rath liked Kaistern, too, but he didn't like to think about him much.
Rath also liked books; he liked the smell of books, he liked the stories they told, he liked them because they made him forget about the world for awhile, and because, when angled properly, you could hide your face behind them to avoid people you didn't want to talk to, like Luwalk or Lykouleon or Viaresu or even, on occasion, Thatz.
Which was exactly what he was doing at the moment.
Rath did not like silence, and silence reigned supreme in the castle. Silence came with the aftermath of the war, with the pained grief of a catastrophic death toll. Rath didn't like the worry lines that had formed on Thatz's once carefree face, he didn't like the pained expression that Rune wore whenever he was around Rath, he didn't like the awkwardness between them, even though they had told him that nothing had changed. Rath did not like the post-war atmosphere.
But what rath did like were sharp objects. He loved how they could dig deeper than the surface, how they could draw a lazy ribbon of crimson blood from his arm so easily, how they could inflict such pain and yet end all his suffering. He liked how he was addicted to their smooth, hard lines, how they could temporarily make him focus on something a little less potent that the memories in his mind, how the blade offered him something to do besides think about Kaistern or Thatz or Rune or Alfeage or Lykouleon or Nadil or Crewger or Illuser or Kharl or demons or snow or depression or the death count or the war or himself.
Rath liked sharp objects most of all.