Bones
/For #100-Heta-Challenge deviantart/
Theme: .71; Obsession
Note(s): -This is inspired by a particular scene in 'Interview with the Vampire'; -Spur of the moment thing, therefore rather drabble-ish; -Contains a rather disturbing interpretation of a young Romano; -eh.. Yeah, it's shorter than my usual works.
Warning(s): Morbid childish jealousy and dead people; blood, primitive dissection, immortality, …
I hereby disclaim any rights
X
He doesn't grow.
Lovino scrutinizes the size of his phalanges and finds them infuriatingly short and stubby; a bit pudgy even, and perhaps their inconvenient length causes his usual clumsiness. His company shoots him a quizzical glance, with her underarms deep inside the full wooden cask, and eventually shrugs to hand him a wet goblet. Scoffing, the not-child continues his task and dries the golden cup with the torn moist rag. She smiles sweetly at him; and he feels his cheeks fluster, as if the skin is alight with flames, and hands him a plate, specked with tidbits of supper. Somehow, the utensil slips from between his fingers and drops with a loud clang upon the stone tiles of the kitchen floor. He scowls, and in a flurry of the hem of his clover-green dress and the thud-thud-thuds of the wooden soles of his tiny shoes, the not-child flees with an expression of anger and shame.
X
Ulna, Radius, Metacarpals and Phalanges
Sometimes the not-child retreats to the confinement of the abandoned stables with a blunt scalpel, he had managed to snatch during a moment of unawareness by the royal doctor, and just examines. He represses the urge to shudder at the repugnant odor, practically floating around the rotting carcass he had hidden underneath the hay, and ignores the itsy-bitsy maggots scurrying through the chasm, which was once the man's ribcage. Lovino prods the calloused texture of the skin tightly woven around the thick fingers. His blade draws a line, and he carefully shoves the flesh open to allow sight of the ivory bones. They were long, like twigs, unlike his. Incision after cut, the not-child unravels the skin and tissue, peels away the muscle and the veins, and eventually in triumph, he holds the skeletal arm in his clenched fists. In amazement, his olive irises narrow and he immediately starts comparing the remnant of the man to his still-functioning arm.
He frowns. /I want to grow!/
X
He doesn't grow!
Antonio often teases him about his childlike state; cooing with a bittersweet voice about how particularly adorable he looks in the monstrosity of the dress, holding him confidently in a patronizing embrace, lifting his kicking legs far too high above the safe and sound soil.
"Say, Lovi~" Not exactly jumping up and down with enthusiasm to regard his caretaker, the Italian leans back against the tree and relaxes in the cooling shade, "I have an inquiry for you…"
He opens one eye reluctantly, the Spaniard suddenly strikes him as distressed, with a quivering bottom lip straining a familiar smile. "What is it?" And he adds in a habit, "Bastard."
"Ah, well… One of the maids made a rather shocking discovery in the stables." His form turns rigid for a split-second and he holds his tongue, trying to swallow back any insults. "She found a carcass already past the first stages of death. However, the most…" Antonio pauses, "interesting feature of said carcass, was the fact he's been dismembered."
He struggles to contain his composure, but the intolerable heat renders him dizzy and again, he finds himself against the comforting stem of the tree. His caretaker mistakes his guilt for general discomfort of the insensitive topic and envelops the not-child in a bone-crushing hug. "Oh, I'm so terribly sorry. Of course, my little Lovino wouldn't know anything about such horrendous matters!"
Great, now he had to make an unnecessary visit to the graveyard to find new comparing material.
X
I want to grow! I want to grow!
Often, he finds himself complaining. "Why is the bastard so tall? He isn't all that better than me, y'know… And my legs are so damned short. How does he expect me to collect vegetables from the market when I can barely run?"
She giggles, knuckles bashfully brush against a plump mouth, "Oh, Lovino, you're still young." This statement draws a vindictive glare from the Italian boy.
When the maid bends low to peck the tousled chestnut locks upon the not-child's head, he raises an eyebrow in wonder and finds himself asking, "How come you're so tall? You're a girl, after all… Aren't men supposed to be larger?" Sun-kissed fingertips tap whimsically against Lovino's cheeks, as if she were contemplating the unexpected conclusion.
"You'll catch up, little Lovino."
She never quite saw the girandole coming, but then again, the poor servant girl didn't have eyes on her back.
X
Ulna, Radius, Metacarpals and Phalanges
They were more elegant than those of the last one, he muses as the tip of the blade delves through the layer of flesh and leads way for spidertine-slender bones. It was hardly fair this sixteen-old servant had possessed a height far more impressive than his tiny form. He was far older; experienced far more life-threatening situations than this mortal girl and still she was taller!- He could howl in frustration at the utter unfairness of his current predicament.
Absentmindedly, he picks at the bones, idly fingering them like an expensive trinket and silently marvels at the length.
X
"When will I grow?"
The caretaker was far too accustomed to these perils to actually be worried at the increasing pinch of the not-child's voice. "Lovino… Why would you ever want to grow? You are blessed with an adorable appearance," and the Spaniard takes in his scowling expression with a delighted smile, "and eternal youth." He takes in every flex of muscle, every gentle movement of the wrist and the not-child can't help but wonder how long those immortal bones could be.
"I… Uhm… Bastard! I'm tired of being this… This disgusting pathetic form while I've been around since my bastard grandfather Rome! I should be…" He wavers, choking on the bundle of rage stuck in his throat, "I should be an adult by now!"
Lovino spins on his heel and leaves a confused Antonio alone on the patio.
X
Grow, grow, grow
He finds himself embracing the girl's carcass, his chin idly grazing the blood-splattered lackluster bones of her ribcage, his fingers caressing the hole between the ulna and radius, which had been emptied and cleaned by the rag he uses to dry the dishes, and he simply exhales. Relishes the silence. His heels knit into the backside of her patella's.
"I'll catch up, right?"
X
whatisthisidon'tevenknow?