A/N: Prompt from Guest.
17
Fireworks
If IV wanted to be poetic, he would say that she is like fireworks.
Her eyes sparkle like them, light up the sky and brighten his day and ignite when full of rage. They shoot upwards when someone says something dumb and they sizzle when she receives an uncomfortably nice compliment.
Her hair is vibrant like them, a collection of dark and shimmering hues of blue and violet and turquoise. Strands cascade toward the ground but never touch, never meet, raining like silent waterfalls of color.
Her voice is loud like them, ringing after the impact. Yells like a sonic boom, laughs like a series of pops and trills, whispers like a fading explosion, cries like ragged puffs - like smoke is caught in her throat.
She is like fireworks, beautiful like them, unique like them, brash and graceful and vivacious like them.
He tells her this once and she snorts, not seeing the connection, but Rio smiles anyway and punches his arm affectionately.
.
.
She was like fireworks.
But her sparks went out and her eyes lost their shine and her hair lost its length and her voice lost its purpose when the fire brewed at the tip of his fingers, burned away her majesty as flames clawed their way up to her glimmering display and tugged her downward in a spiral.
He shot her down.
~Finish~