.-.
Monochrome petals dance by his feet as the wind carries songs that fill his ears with an eerie serenity of crying angels. The cobblestone pathway he walks on slowly expands, adding new details and strokes with each new step. It's quite a lonely place, he thinks as mirages of faceless dolls dance and swirl around him with the grace of a prima donna, perfect for a lonely girl.
The sky is decorated with paper trains and plastic stars, colored a cold violet pink with watercolor-like strokes. It's like with each new thought, each new dream, her mind paints another thing in this world of hers. But this isn't really the girl's is it? No... This world of painted scenery and crafts belongs to the old girl. What's her name? He does not have the time to care.
It's almost pitiful, she was so easy to control- oh so breakable. It was he who killed the first girl after all, he who set the cat free knowing that the lonely girl would try to save it, and it was he who let her meet the other boy in her pseudo-death state. It was all for Daemon Spade's ultimate Vongola.
A lace raven danced by his ear as the faceless marionettes started to twirl and spin away from him, forming a line and bowing to the spring wind that sang a song of harps and flutes. He watched as the monochrome petals fluttered and clustered like rainbow butterflies to a desolate flame, forming a circle of pastel strokes and dreary colors and parting with the song of a nostalgic voice. He didn't say a word as the flowers began to sway and join in the symphony, didn't react as the floral design on the maid's dresses sprang into life and candy butterflies took flight into the violet skies. He just stood there in the sudden explosion of life, watched as the scenery changed to the veranda of a castle of roses and tulips, marionettes dancing with the dresses and suits of nobles and an orchestra of percussions and strings playing in the distance replacing the whispers of angelic harps and flutes.
He lets a smirk cross his dried lips as an apparition of his beloved comes to life with the fluttering of butterflies and the eternal dance of the girl's blossoms that becomes the duke's daughter's sparkling blonde locks, pastel pink dress and eyes more precious than a castle of emeralds. Her smile is like the moon as she glances at the marionettes with strong eyes and merely watches as they explode in colorful streams of glitter and confetti. She all but glides towards him like an angel coming to finally take him away, her hand outstretched and a voice that chimes like the bells they've heard together long long ago.
"Care to dance, Daemon?"