I'm back with more readables. Here's the story of Black Waltz 3-san (yes yes I know I said I was gonna do something for 2 but I didn't yet. TT Sorry!) as my imagination sees it. I'm the allpowerful author in this one, so be prepared for excessive wierdness, distortion of the presented truth, etc., but maybe you'll like it. ^^ Who knows!?
-Kuroi Mahotsukai
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There was a light. A beautiful light. A light shining with the full brilliance of life, with happiness, with consciousness. It shone with love, a pure, giving love, a sweet and maternal love, spreading its glow to everything in existence. While it was present, everything was perfect, everything was complete and calm, kind, and warm, as warm as the deepest reaches of the heart...
Then it decided to go away, and to never come back.
He cried out for it, trying to reach for it, and grasping only darkness. Panicking, he thrashed out into the shadows, growing dizzy from the severity of the motion, and shrinking back in towards a center. The change of current started a slow bolt of crippling thunder starting at the back of his head, seeping in and pouring through his blood, down his fragile, newborn nerves, running out along his arms and legs, and striking with terrible claws at something beyond his shoulder blades. He squirmed, ripples pooling outwards from an uncontrollable trembling, yet he did not attempt to find the light again.
His fear of the eternal shadow embracing him slowly faded, and he relaxed, letting the... something absorb the tensions the lightning had caused. He felt he had reached safety again, and he dropped into a state of quiet content, allowing the little streams of evil to seep into his mind.
You will not mourn. You will not fear. You will not laugh. You will not cavort or play. You will not doubt. You will not cry.
Each command settled quietly down upon him, leaving their imprint where they lay. As they worked their evils upon him, he drifted into oblivion, totally unaware of what was happening.
Kuja smiled up at his creation, watching streams of black and silver floating about him in his chamber, sinking into him, marking him for his dark purpose. The creature was swathed in dark blue robes, with touches of red, a death color, and white, a color of strength. A wide-brimmed hat concealed his face, shadowed heavily to an almost pure black. Kuja did not yet know the color of his eyes; yellow, most likely, but there had been one born with eyes a shade of palest azure. The most remarkable thing about this figure were the graceful raven wings arched behind him, blue-black feathers seeming to give off their own shine. He radiated magic, veritably seething with that destructive power, though it would be long until he would be able to use it. Physically, he was still a child, but that would quickly change.
The silver-haired man had confidence that this one was a success. The others he had created before him had not demonstrated such power so early on, nor were they so quick to learn what was incorrect behavior. His very first attempt had not turned out as he liked it, but he had learned from his errors and succeeded in making a decent creature upon his second attempt. Though those served his purposes, he needed stronger ones... ones he could use in certain situations where the most powerful magic was needed. A little too much creativity got involved in the creation of this strengthened version, and he failed horribly. Yet he decided to keep it to see what he could do with it in dire times. The next was a great improvement, but born too quirky and too excitable from the heat of its inner magic. But now... yes. He had taken the best of his other designs and combined them to create a great weapon...
No... not a great weapon, not yet. A potential... tool of destruction...
Kuja shook off his moment of gloating to look at the creature amidst the liquid Mist again. With the work of the negativity done, the little thing rested in a sleeplike state, utterly relaxed and motionless. The element of stability Kuja needed in his soldiers was indeed present. He found himself almost praising how utterly adorable it was as a child... but he refrained. The last thing he needed was a "cute" little warrior of evil. Yet, the way its wings lay folded and how it balanced elegantly in the distorted gravity within the chamber was quite charming...
That is how they survive, children, Kuja thought to himself. They are so totally defenseless... they must appeal to those of us with strength...
A child of destiny, a gem of death just beginning to crystallize. He blinked slowly. Strange how the Mist-monster could bear such resemblance to himself...
Kuja tossed away those thoughts, now staring intently at the wings of his subject. The sky was one of the things he wanted... it was almost painful to give it away to someone... something else. He had fashioned them absentmindedly in one of his earlier experiments, and decided he liked the idea of winged soldiers of mass destruction. He had been rather sloppy in the beginning, but now was meticulously accurate with each little feather on perfectly proportional wings. He had ringed this one's neck with a collar of luxurious feathers... he almost made himself jealous. He thought of the creatures flying... flying gracefully, preferably, through the sky, waltzing through the stars on their wings...
"That's what you are," he whispered softly to his creation, which had shifted slightly as if something troubled its sleep. "A Black Waltz... Black Waltz no. 3."
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--; I have to fix my problem with short chapters. Good? Bad? Should I continue? ^^