And We Go On
Disclaimer: I own nothing except the plot of this sadistic little twist of a story. GW characters belong to Sunrise and Sutso Agency.
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No matter how much time passes from when my hands last touched these ivory keys, they still remember. And a melody streams from my hands and into my ears, this unbroken harmony of the music and my own quiet breathing.
It is the same with much of the other things my hands are accustomed to doing. Drawing a bow lightly across the strings and a light stream of laughter reaches beyond the silence and wraps me within its arms.
Or even taking a knife and twisting it into your lover's body. So sweet, so potent, such a rush of adrenaline.
Revenge is sweet, my dear. Did you really think your dirty little ways would escape me? I am a Gundam pilot. But first and foremost, I am a businessman. I know the little games that one plays while he is idle and bored.
Truth is, I do miss the old days.
Of course, I must lament that how peace has taken over the world now, and we don't need to sully our hands anymore with the blood of innocents. How I give a good cheer now that the war is over. After all, I do have an image to uphold as the sweet innocent Arabian that I am.
Or was.
You see, that image is just another mask that I wear.
Fools, you think that I am simplistic and hypocrite in my pacifist's ways. I am more complex then any of you will ever be.
I have left a trail of dead lovers in my wake. They have lied, cheated, and angered me. Which is why I keep my beloved knife in that locked drawer next to my bed. Our bed, which we fucked in so many countless times.
Never did count you to be a little whore.
And here you thought that you could blind me towards the other lover you have taken on the side. What a silly person you are. Haven't the war taught you anything?
How those green eyes widened when my knife made contact with that lean body of yours. And how the blood fell, m'dear. How the blood did fell.
Cascaded all over my pristine cream carpet.
And it was where we first met too. Ah, the cruel irony.
You lay there still, those unseeing eyes rolled towards the Heaven. Do you think your God will help save your soul and stop you from being condemned to hell?
My hands still play this piece. They never forget. My mind, I may. But my hands? Never.
I'll have to ask Rashid to call the carpet company to have them replace it yet again. My, another helpless story to tell that I have spoilt the carpet again for yet another time.
How your sister must grieve to know that you have taken your own life. I will comfort her. I always did like her. Such a caring warm friend.
Your body is slowly now setting into rigor. So cold and stiff. But silent as always, dear lover, as you always were in life.
Don't worry. I won't kill your lover yet. Not now anyways. Another to shape, mold and then thrown away. Just like you.
So replaceable. I'll miss you though, like all my others.
So my hands played on. And with that, came a wind from an open window and stirred your bangs out of that alabaster face.
The knife shimmered in a mere reach beyond me, the blood glistening along it's edges losing their glow and drying into a gummy substance.
Soon, it'll be glistening again, and I will be using it. I always did like the smell of blood, the rancid odor of iron lingering in my olfactory chambers.
Love you darling.
And the blond Arabian played on, while his lover lay nearby and listened.
Disclaimer: I own nothing except the plot of this sadistic little twist of a story. GW characters belong to Sunrise and Sutso Agency.
*****************
No matter how much time passes from when my hands last touched these ivory keys, they still remember. And a melody streams from my hands and into my ears, this unbroken harmony of the music and my own quiet breathing.
It is the same with much of the other things my hands are accustomed to doing. Drawing a bow lightly across the strings and a light stream of laughter reaches beyond the silence and wraps me within its arms.
Or even taking a knife and twisting it into your lover's body. So sweet, so potent, such a rush of adrenaline.
Revenge is sweet, my dear. Did you really think your dirty little ways would escape me? I am a Gundam pilot. But first and foremost, I am a businessman. I know the little games that one plays while he is idle and bored.
Truth is, I do miss the old days.
Of course, I must lament that how peace has taken over the world now, and we don't need to sully our hands anymore with the blood of innocents. How I give a good cheer now that the war is over. After all, I do have an image to uphold as the sweet innocent Arabian that I am.
Or was.
You see, that image is just another mask that I wear.
Fools, you think that I am simplistic and hypocrite in my pacifist's ways. I am more complex then any of you will ever be.
I have left a trail of dead lovers in my wake. They have lied, cheated, and angered me. Which is why I keep my beloved knife in that locked drawer next to my bed. Our bed, which we fucked in so many countless times.
Never did count you to be a little whore.
And here you thought that you could blind me towards the other lover you have taken on the side. What a silly person you are. Haven't the war taught you anything?
How those green eyes widened when my knife made contact with that lean body of yours. And how the blood fell, m'dear. How the blood did fell.
Cascaded all over my pristine cream carpet.
And it was where we first met too. Ah, the cruel irony.
You lay there still, those unseeing eyes rolled towards the Heaven. Do you think your God will help save your soul and stop you from being condemned to hell?
My hands still play this piece. They never forget. My mind, I may. But my hands? Never.
I'll have to ask Rashid to call the carpet company to have them replace it yet again. My, another helpless story to tell that I have spoilt the carpet again for yet another time.
How your sister must grieve to know that you have taken your own life. I will comfort her. I always did like her. Such a caring warm friend.
Your body is slowly now setting into rigor. So cold and stiff. But silent as always, dear lover, as you always were in life.
Don't worry. I won't kill your lover yet. Not now anyways. Another to shape, mold and then thrown away. Just like you.
So replaceable. I'll miss you though, like all my others.
So my hands played on. And with that, came a wind from an open window and stirred your bangs out of that alabaster face.
The knife shimmered in a mere reach beyond me, the blood glistening along it's edges losing their glow and drying into a gummy substance.
Soon, it'll be glistening again, and I will be using it. I always did like the smell of blood, the rancid odor of iron lingering in my olfactory chambers.
Love you darling.
And the blond Arabian played on, while his lover lay nearby and listened.