Disclaimer: I'm not making any money off this. I am merely a muse-slave.
A/N: reviews are totally appreciated, especially criticism. Thank you.
The bloody chaos outside is hardly noticed by the two remaining figures in the burning orphanage.
The little girl cowers in the corner, her grubby face now streaked by rivulets of tears rinsing the soot and grunge from her pink skin. He eyes are red with tears and round with fear as she stares at the scruffy man with the cutlass. She clutches a pearwood music box to her scrawny grey-clad chest, trembling.
"You c-can't! Anything but the music box—it was my mother's—it's all I have left!"
"Please," says the man in an almost weary tone, "Jus' gimme th' box, and get outta here."
She sobs as the cackle of flames drowns out the soft melody.
"You can't! Please—anything! Please!"
"I didn't wanna hurt ye," he says, almost apologetic.
Polished wood splinters and tinkling music slows to a halt as grimy fingers pry out a dusty trinket, embossed with a death's-head. Her eyes, red with tears and round with fear, stare at his retreating form, as liquid crimson life leaks from her gaping throat, gleaming red-gold in the rapidly approaching firelight.