Cat is the twenty-third theme of my 100 Themes Challenge~
(I apologise in advance for the lack of theme 22; Mother Nature, but really, the poem was too crap to begin to think about putting up and I don't have the time nor patience to write an alternative. My bad.)
Inspired by The Real World (Part 1) and Can't Take It (part 2) by The All-American Rejects.
Kamina stood atop a dome like building. He forgot where he was a while ago, but he had a vague recollection of being in Europe.
It was interesting, dressed in his black cloak and scarf with his dark hair, ears and tail on show for the dead town, he blended perfectly with the starless bleak sky.
His eyes were frighteningly vivid against the darkness; blood red and livid.
Yes.
He was the cat guardian, formerly a protector of Kanta. Now, evidently, the world.
He snorted. How repulsive that sounded. His heart had not yet thawed from the pain he had endured earlier that evening.
Standing in a vast hall. Filled with so many busy, moving bodies and the purposeful, steady start of a waltz beginning to be played by the band.
Kamina saw him. Standing facing him from across the hall. His mask not obscuring his vision in the slightest- his purple eyes cutting through the crowds like a blade to stare the cat down. Kamina remained unfased and merely glared back. He took up the hand of Naminé, who was also staring in the direction of their rival and together they made their way to the dance floor, feet moving rythmically to the music. Luther followed suit, arm wrapped around the waist of his own female accomplice. They began to dance, bodies clashing and being torn apart from their partners as the music ordered. All the while, the men never took their eyes off of each other. The mauve male's face an expression of suppressed glee with his smug smirk gracing his lips in a way that made Kamina feel like the loser as his unsmiling face leered back. When the music ceased and their partners left the floor in a wave of crisp velvet dresses, neither man made a move in either direction. They stood staring each other down.
Kamina hadn't intended to make an effort with his appearance, but Naminé had insisted they impress their audience and Kamina was glad she had interfered.
He was finally up to Luther's level.
He was no longer the scruffy hero bystanding the battle as Mr Perfect seized the reigns and took each country on the demon bandwagon of hell.
He was dressed in the sleek black traditional tuxedo with his red waistcoat and cufflinks. His hair was slicked back, only a few minor strands escaping the stronghold of gel that had been layered onto his scalp. They were dressed the same, attending the same event, moving in the same way.
Yet there was still that distance of superiority that Luther upheld and which Kamina still failed to cross.
What was holding him back? What did he have to let go of to climb over that barrier and face Luther as the true contender he wanted?
[Demon Guardians] (mainly drabble) - I'm such a legend for writing this and forgetting about it btw, OMG :)