Beauty

His brother is vilely beautiful, a dark seraph, dangerous and horrifying.

He is another idea entirely, and who could call such a jokester an angel?

Whoever takes his life away from this hell of a place is the most guilty of all, yet it may of course be me.

None of my love is pure, not after all I have done and will do, and when I hurt whatever I touch I will not touch him.

He is much too innocent to know his own beauty, or to know what I am really thinking. Or so I keep hoping.

Eplanatory note: Wolfwood's POV about Vash