Disclaimer: I don't own Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
trompe l'oeil
Written July Nineteenth, 2008
Illusion -
Only students of Namimori are allowed on premises, unless you are here with authorization.
And, she glances down. Up. Takes in the difference of colours and styles, notices the bird sitting awkwardly about his hair, mouths the words emblazoned on his armband. Fumbles with the hem of her skirt, still marveling at its difference from her old clothing, and from her hospital smock. Her missing eye - they took it; ripped it from slick, garnet cords of nerves, and the pain - is covered with a bandage. It itches.
She opens her mouth. No sound. Breathes nothing but air, moves her gaze from her clothing to his face, again. Wonders, slightly, what the view would be if she were to lean against the metal railing. Wonders if she would be able to see the Tenth, wonders if she would know it were he when she hasn't been given a picture, yet. Yellow blurs on the edge of her vision, and she turns to watch the bird take flight.
I have recently transferred in. I haven't bought a uniform yet.
Avoiding motorcars is not possible, and not something she needs to do. Next time she will save the cat again, unless she's been forbade, unless it would be a hindrance. Chrome isn't full of idiotic fantasies, or delusions: It is entirely possible that he is the one who caused her injuries in the first place. But, he is also the one who saved her, the reason why her stomach is protuberant and her body isn't rotting in the dirt, isn't burned to ashes. She will do anything.
Hibari smells like pollen and matted fur, dust and ichor.
The Disciplinary Leader's weapons are metal rods, perfect for crushing bones and besetting combatants in short-range quarters. They're dented, unless her monocular vision is too deceiving, and she mentally calculates how much force would have to be the catalyst. Gives up, and she knows that she is -
You're not in the school registry, and dyed hair is against regulations. Do you know the consequences of disrupting discipline?
Becoming dangerous. She can taste the salt in the air, and envisions her opponent's fingers sliding towards the tonfa hooked around the waistband of his slacks, slamming into her with brutal force. He would realize it too soon, so the magician turns to leave after one final stare.
After all, cats play with canaries before moving to the kill, and (she can see the feathers spilling.)
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FF's spell checker is stupid. "Ichor" is most definitely a word!