Baby Face
||Something I always wanted to do with Lync… just because he's so freaking… ADORABLE. I mean… he was selling FLOWERS… how he managed to get the flowers I don't really know… but come on. If the drawing/voice acting of that scene was done a bit better, I probably would have a heart attack from all the cuteness that is he…
Now… the show could actually a MUCH better job of taking advantage the likelihood that he's younger than everyone else and his evil cuteness… but… I'll try to make do…
||Disclaimer: I do not own Bakugan. Proudly.
||Lync-centric
||The eyes and cheeks and smile of a demon; always so cherubic, always so deceptive.
They see him – all frailty and slender limbs clad in much-too-big clothing, and they stop. Thick, dark lashes framing sea-green flutter, and they're curious. Round, smooth cheeks pull up into a shy smile as he tilts his head to the side, letting shaggy pink bangs fall over his face untidily, and they're intrigued. And then he opens his mouth, and his high-pitched voice is full of candy and cheer, and they're entranced.
It will only be later that they'll be struck with the realization that they've been –
tricked –
conned –
and played for the gullible fools they are.
The two-faced angel has finished his work on them now; it's been fun, he's reaped the benefits, and now they're left completely drained as he turns to fresh horizons and chances at greatness, more promising prey and systems to poison.
Because the world today is now his plaything, and it offers him everything that the world yesterday could not – money, possessions, fame, and little toy people to direct and break at his amused whim, until it's all been used up and he needs (craves) more prizes, more recreation, more and more and more and moremoremore…
And so slender limbs break away from frailty and snatch out greedily for that fickle more.
The tiny, capricious faery, with too much and so very little time, shifting through loyalty to loyalty and comrade to comrade, deceiving and cheating and deluding and letting thick, dark lashes part once more as he leaves yet another, looking down on them with malicious mirth that glitters behind sea-green.
Only in that brief moment of falling (again and again) on scraped knees, does contempt stop pulling up at round, smooth cheeks. And you see the scowl, the snarl, the twist of innocence and arrogance and smirking masks – pointed towards boons yonder – sliding back on with flippant disregard.
Frayed ends are carefully mended, tempers released and forgotten, arrangements are made to seize the last precious dregs of benefit – candy and cheer prepares to coat over sneers and gibes to make promises to a new day.
Lync is nothing more than the rosy-cheeked renegade, the bright-eyed imp, and the unrest of darkened youth.
||Rather… not good… really… and incredibly short… I'm not sure if I like it or not… it's kind of mangled and… doesn't make much sense… feh. I'll use it as a lesson later, for what not to do… really short, it is… sad…