A/n: Uh, yea, I'm back with another painfully short and rushed chapter. I'll revise it later, perhaps.
You used to love dancing.
I remember when you confessed your secret desire to dance professionally. You were my inspiration. You encouraged me to welcome my dreams.
I did, Anzu. Did you?
You've always been beautiful, Anzu. Older, lovelier, stronger than I. Always.
And yet somehow, you've become even more beautiful. You are poise, and you are elegance.
But you are sadness, you are strain and tears.
What will make you smile, Anzu? What will lift your tender heart?
...What will make you mine?
A/n: Like I said, short and rushed. Inspired by Death-Cry's Last: go read it it's fabulous! And now that I've committed to continuing it, expect more from this story. ...But not immediately, of course. I'm way too lazy for quickness.