PRE FIC RANTINGS AND A SPRINKLE OF DISCLAIMER: Another CLAMP non-drabbled. A bit confusing and a bit bloody.
Don't own X and stuff. Scared of makign disclaimer longer than fic. =================================================================== Mirror, Mirror
A fic in 150 words, by Izzy Girl/Fuuma POV Take a hand stained in blood and run two fingers down the mirror. Trace the lines of blood until they make a cross. Follow the cross until it leads directly to your reflection- greay eyes with a frost-over cast, upturned towards the burning heavens, watching the crooked crosses all bent with their rusty-nailed crucifixtions of convictions and broken promises and of blood and salvation and faith. Then you realize, faintly, that this is not real and he is not you and somewhere in the mist-lined eaves of your own lost psyche, something whispers like the wind or a murmer or perhaps just a faint breath- like a dream. A name, and you grasp at it: "Fu... Fu... Fuuma..." You chuckle as it dissapears, fading so easily into the backdrop and the chaos, just like everything else. You tighten your hand around the hilt of your sword and laugh madly- a moment of weakness, a memory perhaps. You faltered momentarily, but as usual, it was nothing. - end
Don't own X and stuff. Scared of makign disclaimer longer than fic. =================================================================== Mirror, Mirror
A fic in 150 words, by Izzy Girl/Fuuma POV Take a hand stained in blood and run two fingers down the mirror. Trace the lines of blood until they make a cross. Follow the cross until it leads directly to your reflection- greay eyes with a frost-over cast, upturned towards the burning heavens, watching the crooked crosses all bent with their rusty-nailed crucifixtions of convictions and broken promises and of blood and salvation and faith. Then you realize, faintly, that this is not real and he is not you and somewhere in the mist-lined eaves of your own lost psyche, something whispers like the wind or a murmer or perhaps just a faint breath- like a dream. A name, and you grasp at it: "Fu... Fu... Fuuma..." You chuckle as it dissapears, fading so easily into the backdrop and the chaos, just like everything else. You tighten your hand around the hilt of your sword and laugh madly- a moment of weakness, a memory perhaps. You faltered momentarily, but as usual, it was nothing.