Blood.
Blood.
The fluid consisting of plasma, blood cells, and platelets that is circulated by the heart throughout the body; the gooey red substance that oozes from the body upon injury.
Red.
His blood was black.
Black blood.
Not red blood.
Black blood scared him.
Not for himself did he fear it but for her-it did things to him.
He had little control over it anymore; then again…he probably never had any to begin with.
Madness.
It was imminent. Never ending and unavoidable, or maybe it was that he chose to accept it instead.
He'd already succumbed to it days ago…or was it hours? Whatever. It didn't really matter if he was right anymore. He was ensnared into madness, nothing really mattered anymore.
So he opted to lay motionless on the cold floor that was the black room instead of trying to escape the folds of madness steadily consuming his being-it's not like he hadn't tried escaping but that was hours ago with no results…or was it days?
Talking: It was about all that he did now. He talked to himself mostly being as he was the only one capable of answering himself. And sometimes he talked to the little red imp who would shuffle on through the black room every few days (hours?). The imp never stayed long though, he was surprisingly quiet as opposed to all the other times when he'd want to talk endlessly and excessively to him which was very irritating; the one time he actually wanted to say something to him/it? and the imp was nowhere to be found.
He thinks it was being done on purpose.
Just to drive him mad. Madder? More mad?
The madness was imminent. Never ending and unavoidable but you already knew that.
That's why he finally accepted it.
Black blood.
Not red blood.
Black blood excited him.
…Who was she again?
He had no control over it any longer then again he probably never had it to begin with.
He was glad.
Madness.
It was like a drug, one he could get addicted to over and over again.
Soul.
The madness consumed his mind, body, and so-
SOUL…
Soul?
"Soul."
White.
Not red or black.
WHITE.
White was such a plain color.
…Maka was such a plain girl.
Her tiny little hands clasped down onto his larger ones brightening up his blackening soul. "Soul." She repeated her voice tiny and gentle like the waves her soul was sending through him.
It sent pleasant chills down his spine. "Ma-ka." He finally answered.
Their souls resonated. "Time to leave Soul."
She left no room for argument, not that he was complaining. "Yeah."
They walked towards the door, the one she had created just for them, hand-in-hand.
"Where do you think you are going?"
The imp.
"Home," was her simple reply.
"Wretched girl, do not be mistaken," he pointed a long, crooked finger at her; "the next time we meet you will not be as fortunate-mark my words."
She just grinned, "Yeah, like I haven't heard that one before."
It was white again.
A/N: Kinda' short and kinda' bordering the lines of drabble-y. But I'm posting it non-the-less. So enjoy~! Reviews are appreciated if you'd be kind enough to take time out of your busy schedule to send one. :D
Dude. My first Soul-Maka story ever. I feel accomplished!