Poisonous Introspection
Disclaimer: Saiyuki, saya tarak milik. Hakmilik Minekura & geng. Hoo hoo
hoo.
Utilizing all of the senses and sorry about the stark paragraphing and
language! Inspired by a beautiful pic of Homura fighting (guess who!) from
the Papercut site. Written to jar you. Enjoy.
PS: I keep forgetting thank all my reviewers. Thanks, I needed your moral
support!!!!
***
Red.
Gold.
Brown.
Red. Gold. Brown. Orange.
Whiteredgoldbrownorangeindigoredgoldbrownmauvescarlet.
Pink.
Cherry blossoms etched in gold bloom across desolate indigo fabric. Stained mauve. Soft as a woman's skin, wafting the scent of apple blossom--
--No.
Light feet--(demonic grace)--run. Hiss. Yes, he hisses at me.
Gold.
Chain links clink. Kink. And catch. Caught in a fatal dance; our accorded tango. Circle. Snarl. He knows the steps as well as I do. I had always wondered. Kill, or be killed; your life does not matter. Even this god can't be otherwise.
Eyes kindled with gold. Unblinking. He stares at me.
Breathe. Air for his lungs: a savage sustenance.
Brown--ruby--gold--
Rush. Passion. Fury. It is all the same. He does not understand words.
Gold--blue--orange--scarlet--
Only the bite and snarl of the sword and the tang of blood. No longer he, but it. Undistilled, but with intelligence. Black mirth is all I can give him. Whirling into the venomous embrace of spraying glass. Falling into the soft caress of petals.
Violet--blue--black--gold--orange--
Teeth. Chain. Nail. Sword. Slashing billowing curtains. Spattering in patterns so beautiful and strange. Writing in violence so glorified that it seems an art. Speed?--godlike. Destruction. Now faster.
Yellow--gold--blue--orangebrownindigored--Then
He is gone.
***
Red.
Gold.
Brown.
Red. Gold. Brown. Orange.
Whiteredgoldbrownorangeindigoredgoldbrownmauvescarlet.
Pink.
Cherry blossoms etched in gold bloom across desolate indigo fabric. Stained mauve. Soft as a woman's skin, wafting the scent of apple blossom--
--No.
Light feet--(demonic grace)--run. Hiss. Yes, he hisses at me.
Gold.
Chain links clink. Kink. And catch. Caught in a fatal dance; our accorded tango. Circle. Snarl. He knows the steps as well as I do. I had always wondered. Kill, or be killed; your life does not matter. Even this god can't be otherwise.
Eyes kindled with gold. Unblinking. He stares at me.
Breathe. Air for his lungs: a savage sustenance.
Brown--ruby--gold--
Rush. Passion. Fury. It is all the same. He does not understand words.
Gold--blue--orange--scarlet--
Only the bite and snarl of the sword and the tang of blood. No longer he, but it. Undistilled, but with intelligence. Black mirth is all I can give him. Whirling into the venomous embrace of spraying glass. Falling into the soft caress of petals.
Violet--blue--black--gold--orange--
Teeth. Chain. Nail. Sword. Slashing billowing curtains. Spattering in patterns so beautiful and strange. Writing in violence so glorified that it seems an art. Speed?--godlike. Destruction. Now faster.
Yellow--gold--blue--orangebrownindigored--Then
He is gone.
