Disclaimer: Trinity Blood belongs to Yoshida Sunao, bless his soul.
Based on the themes of LiveJournal community 30hugs. Theme #1 hazel eyes.
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broken doll
The first time I ever laid eyes on him, I never would have thought he would be the one who would banish the darkness from my heart.
It was not the first meeting the romantics would have imagined. We stood amidst a sea of destruction, Caterina and I, with rubble and debris scattered every which way. The air was heavy with the smell and taste of dust, and the metallic tang of iron and steel clung to the tips of our tongues. The light that filtered through the shattered stained-glass windows provided little illumination, those wavering rays of fading sunlight diffusing among the dancing motes. The world had taken on a hazy cast to it, much as if someone had thrown a veil of dusty gossamer over that peaceful scene of ruin. Not a sound could be heard. Whatever events that had transpired that day had passed, leaving silence in its wake. A silence that gave one the sensation of waiting. The only signs of life were the soft sighs of Caterina's steady breaths.
I'm certain that before the failed uprising, incited by his creator, he would have been an impressive, if not intimidating, sight. But at that moment he was a pitiful thing. Quite literally, all that was left of him was a head and half a shoulder. A pool of liquid, dark and viscous, puddled beneath him, and I distinctly remember the sharp aroma of petroleum invading my nostrils. But, had I not looked into his open eyes at that moment, I'm sure that I would not have been as drawn to him as I was.
At a distance, he was nothing more than a discarded bit of machinery in human guise. Until one looked into that face. It was nothing more than a boy's face, angelic and innocent, certainly not the face of those dreaded cyborg soldiers. His hair shone in the murky sunlight like burnished copper, stray locks framing the soft curves of his face. An auburn wisp curled almost impishly over a smooth forehead. His skin held a pale hue, translucent and white, and had I the courage or mind to touch him then, I'm sure he would have been as cold as ice.
But what had struck me the most was not his innocent, child-like appearance, but his eyes. Even as he was, his gaze, so steady and calm, knowing yet utterly naive, held me in place, more effective than any words, than any physical restraint could. His eyes glowed golden in the fading crimson light, and back then, I had believed they were hazel. How utterly wrong I am now, but it matters not anymore.
I know now what drew Caterina to him. What made her kneel by his crumpled form, and why she gathered him up in her gentle arms.
He was a broken doll. Discarded and forgotten. Belonging to no one and loved by none.
All I could do then was stand entranced, struck speechless and senseless by the look of utter sadness, and that faint glimmer of hope, I had seen in his unblinking eyes.