Upper Deck 1: "A Whiff of Smoke"
Prologue to The Betting Game
By: ShinigamiForever
A/N: Um, yeah, new series. Sorry! I know I have way too many going on. Anyway, this is the group of stories that are half of the prologues to The Betting Game. The second half is the Lower Deck. This is a story very loosely based on X/1999. It's kind of twisted, and seems to have way too much on cigarettes and the like. But I think this is kind of a teaser, so if anybody is interested, I might just go on.
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He had already finished off a box of cigarettes and was starting on a pack.
The room had a white haze lingering over the air, pungent and wistful to his nose. His hand rested lightly on his face, cigarette poised delicately in between white fingers, hesitant. They did not shake, just as he did not shake.
He had on a pensive expression on his face, eyes vacantly focused on a blank spot on the wall, just beyond her head. He wore a turtleneck and dark slacks, feet on the floor, black shoes. The cigarette burned itself out in his hand, ash forming a stack that balanced tentatively, almost nervously, on the stub. He smeared out the red glow of heat in the porcelain ash tray that lay on the table beside him. In actuality, most of the cigarettes had not been touched by his lips. He just liked the feel, the scent, and the smoke of them. Out of all of the wrapped up cylinders, he had only taken a couple drags. He wore the feel of an aristocrat, polished and refined.
His companion looked at him with vague indifference, a fair blonde-haired girl of 16. She had a lithe and slender build, tapping the floor with an impatient foot as her head was resting on one propped up hand. Her eyes flitted around the room, pausing momentarily on objects, like a butterfly. But her body was still and controlled, surrounded by a faint cloud of smoke. With a small curve of her lips, she displayed no emotions, masked and blankly mirror-like. Her neck was long, almost too long, but it looked natural on her, a low-cut and flat topped shirt revealing the tops of her shoulders. Her hair flicked in the light air. She had the aura of a dancer, almost precariously floating atop eggshells.
He slid another small cigarette from the box, watching his own hands as they performed their perfunctory task. He reached for the lighter on the side table, languid and relaxed. With deft movements the sound of the lighter clicking could be heard, a flame leaping up, iridescent and quivering, against the white edge of the wrapped paper. He removed the hand holding the flame, then placed the cigarette in his mouth, almost hiding the rest of his lower face.
The blonde rustled, leaning back against her armchair, facing the armchair of the young man. He watched her from behind his miasma of smoke, black eyes flashing orbs of dancing light. She spoke up first, voice soft and silky like milk caramel. "You know, smoking is bad for you." He regarded her with quiet amusement, removing the cigarette from his mouth and tapping it against the ash tray. A flick of gray ash flew downwards, the red glow of embers leaping up for a second.
"I believe that's the third time you've told me," he replied before taking in a breath of smoke and letting it out again. She chuckled, a low and disconcerting sound.
"It's true," she said, cool pale fingers playing with strands of her pale golden hair. Her eyes were a misty cerulean that seemed to cover a metallic interior. She watched the gray-white cloud spread off into the emptiness of the room. They sat in silence, both comfortable and awkward, inhaling the sweet bitter scent. The blond watched as he leaned over to tap his cigarette again, his small black ponytail flicking sideways with his turn. She watched him, silent as ever. But the impending press of silence was more than she could bear, so her comment was actually a blurt of her thoughts, even if it came out sarcastic and graceful as ever.
"What do you plan on doing now?"
He laughed softly, taking another puff of smoke, gazing at its ascent, before looking at her intently, a flash of brilliant black in his face. "Oh," he said, gesturing grandly around him, "I think I'll destroy the world."
A/N: Yes, very short. Beyond belief. Oh well.