Paper Doll
Disclaimer: I don't own King Kong or any of its characters
Summary: (Triple Drabble…)
© Scarlet-Child
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There were many things that Kong didn't understand.
Like why one woman could trigger a feeling so unusual and unfamiliar in him.
Or why her scream affected him so.
He didn't understand; but he knew that he didn't need to understand to rescue the only one who looked at him with, not fear or anger, but hope.
And he knew that she was in danger, and he was willing to battle one v-rex to win her back.
Or two.
Or three.
And he would stand proudly, fierce expression on his rugged face, Anne clamped securely within his strong hands. He would evade his adversaries with all four limbs, tossing her up carelessly, shaking her in the air like a paper doll, her blonde curls tangling in the violent breeze.
And when he watched her be stolen unrightfully from his protection, he knew that he would do whatever it would take to get his doll back.
Even if it cost his life.
Although he was to eventually realize that this was to become of him; as he staggered from the Empire State Building, with Anne grasped in his hands, her blonde curls melting into the golden sunset, and her cerulean eyes spilling fraught tears, he knew that the fight had long been worth it. And that though his limbs would object from the strain and his fur would cry tears of crimson, he didn't have to be afraid of something he knew little about.
His last comforting thought was that as long as Anne was okay, then he would be too. And maybe, just maybe, as long as beauty was in his embrace, in the last, lingering moments of his heroic life, then the pain of death would be nothing less to him than the days he had spent without her.
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