Killing the Cock Robin
Summary: Amon is thinking while Robin is sleeping. They're fleeing from the factory, hunted. But is Amon really helping her? AxR
Disclaimer: One day it will be mine, but not today.
A/N: A small tune inspired me. I hope you enjoy it. Please Review, it would mean alot.
Killing the Cock Robin
Robin.
A Robin is a type of bird. Plump with an orange-red breast, face, throat, with cheeks edged with grey, a white belly and the rest of it is olive-brown.
Robin however is not like her name. She isn't plump; she's skinny and frail; brittle almost. Her breasts are not in the least bit tanned, I should know. The only time colour would ever come to them is if I pay great attention to them in the heat of our moments. Her face flushes but it never reaches the true ruby of the bird, she's not even close to it, even when we whisper unspoken words of love. Perhaps I'm not trying hard enough.
And her throat…I can barely contain my growl as I remember her sleek long neck that continually taunts me. It did the moment I saw her.
Her cheeks never used to be grey, but as we flee across the barren earth they seem to be growing more ashen each waking hour and for the life of me I try to put colour back into them in the few ways I know how to.
But the colour never lasts.
'Who killed Cock Robin?
I said the Sparrow,
With my bow and arrow,
And I killed Cock Robin.'
The small rhyme comes to my mind as I spy her sleeping below me, her bare form wrapped in the white sheets. Peaceful.
Robins are usually territorial all year round, yet this Robin lets me dominate her land every night…it confounds me. Was I the one who killed the Cock Robin? Am I the one leading her to her death? Am I not fulfilling my duty as her watchdog?
My thoughts are interrupted as a small sigh escapes her pale lips. It's so soft, just like her skin and her voice. My hand itches to touch her again but I restrain.
Robins have hauntingly beautiful meolodies, sometimes mournful, othertimes wistful. My Robin never has sung a sad tune, but she never seems to hope. Only logical…realistic…never a dreamer.
'Who killed Cock Robin?
I said the Sparrow,
With my bow and arrow,
And I killed Cock Robin.'
I looked down upon my sweet love again and felt my heart leap as she blinked her eyes open to the morning sun that dazzled her briefly through the windows. Soon we had to leave, just like every other morning. Never staying still.
Yet, as I saw her eyes look upon me I saw something different there and I whispered sadly: "I'm the one killing Cock Robin."
Poor Amon. I hope you enjoyed it
-PapP
-Becky