[Other worlds][Eureka SeveN Dominic/Anemone][17-psychic]
Title: seems like you could read my mind
Author: MM-Kokopelli
Pairing: Dominic/Anemone
Fandom: Eureka SeveN
Prompt: other worlds, #17 psychic
Word Count: 868
Disclaimer: I do not own Eureka SeveN.
Her back is to him.
She’s wearing the standard issue uniform, a black spandex suit that hugs her figure and covers her fingers and feet, making her one with the shadow of the old brick building-or she would be, if her hair weren’t pink. The alleyway is dark, the streetlights blocked from view. It’s better that they blend, better that they are kept within shadows.
That way, no one can see the bodies.
Her face is splattered with blood that spurted from the man in front of her, who is now a crumpled figure on the ground. Turning her head, she looks at the graffiti-ed walls through half-lidded eyes, the distinctive purple irises scanning the darkness.
“That was messy.”
She made her way towards the place where the male voice came from, stopping in front of a fire escape, cocking her head.
“What am I supposed to do, let him die slow so I don’t get blood on the street?”
A moment of silence passes, and the faint noise of cars rushing on the streets of downtown reaches their ears.
“That would be preferable.”
She shrugs, swinging her hair behind her shoulders. “Whatever, Dominic. Besides, he was a serial killer.” With a pause, she looks at the corpse behind her, which is barely recognizable as a human being, with blood coating the face and clothing. “I wanted it to hurt.”
A small thump, and she can hear him walking towards her, his steps quiet. “You have blood on your face.”
She licks her cheek absently, buffing a nail. “Yeah, yeah. Forcing a guy to relive their worst nightmares and rupturing their inner organs can do that to a girl.”
When he rolls his eyes, she can almost hear him do it. The fire escape creaks, the rusted metal straining from added weight, and she knows that he’s leaning against it, arms crossed and eyes half-closed, watching her carefully (because that’s his job, to watch her and be cautious for her and leave no signs that the two of them exist). They stand like that for a while, her watching the seemingly abandoned fire escape of an old apartment building, and him watching (out for) her.
“Can you turn visible now? Its getting really irritating talking to empty air.”
A sigh, and another figure in black slowly appears, a young man with dark hair and grey eyes. He frowns, considering his hands, watching as his left pinky regained its normal hue. Looking up, he glances at her face again and frowns. “You still have blood on you.”
She grimaces at the shadows, twisting her mouth. “It tastes gross.” Rubbing her arms, she turns to face him, hair swinging and eyes opening wider, until more than a hint of lavender is visible-now he can see the bloody stripe of scarlet that slashes across her iris.
Shoving his hands into pockets, he watches her walk forward until the two of them are scant inches apart. She takes a breath in, and lets it out with a huff.
“You had something sweet, didn’t you?”
He shrugs. “Might have.”
Glaring at him, she takes another breath, smelling the air. “And I can’t even figure it out…”
“Don’t even try it, Anemone. I’m your Handler.”
Pouting, she turns away, crossing her arms. “Yeah, yeah. You know I’m not going to read you.” She glances at the body again, takes in the damage that she’s caused. “Them, however…” Walking over, she prods the body with a single toe, and frowns when more of the crimson blood coats her foot. “Them, I can read. Isn’t that right?”
He nods quietly, and quotes softly, “Handler watches Reader, Reader spares Handler.”
They know the code. It’s how they get by, in this world of madness and mutations.
“Mmph. So where to next, eh, Dominic?” A quick sashay, and she’s standing next to him, their shoulders almost touching. He checks a small handheld device, produced from some pocket near his chest.
“We have to find the Nirvash team.”
Her grin becomes shark-like, showing teeth in a sinister smile. “Ooh. That's going to be fun.”
They start to walk towards the entrance to the sidewalk when she pauses and he frowns, not turning around, not yet. “What?”
The rustle of her uniform alerts him, and he turns his head at her while steadily fading, scanning for attackers-but all he sees is her frowning there, looking at the empty space where he…isn’t.
“…What, Anemone?” He walks towards her, his senses alert, his body barely visible.
Her eyes lock with his, and in one swift motion, she pulls him forward and kisses him-and there isn’t anything soft or tender about it, because an occupation with a one hundred percent fatality rate can do that to you, can make everything a little harsher and sharper and far more intense than it is for normal people, with normal lives and normal abilities (because whatever they may be, it is most definitely not normal).
They pull away from each other, and she frowns at him.
“You did have something sweet. Meanie.”
When they walk away together, he tosses behind a small device, and the corpse is blown to pieces.
(Rule Number One: We don’t exist.)
Author: MM-Kokopelli
Pairing: Dominic/Anemone
Fandom: Eureka SeveN
Prompt: other worlds, #17 psychic
Word Count: 868
Disclaimer: I do not own Eureka SeveN.
Her back is to him.
She’s wearing the standard issue uniform, a black spandex suit that hugs her figure and covers her fingers and feet, making her one with the shadow of the old brick building-or she would be, if her hair weren’t pink. The alleyway is dark, the streetlights blocked from view. It’s better that they blend, better that they are kept within shadows.
That way, no one can see the bodies.
Her face is splattered with blood that spurted from the man in front of her, who is now a crumpled figure on the ground. Turning her head, she looks at the graffiti-ed walls through half-lidded eyes, the distinctive purple irises scanning the darkness.
“That was messy.”
She made her way towards the place where the male voice came from, stopping in front of a fire escape, cocking her head.
“What am I supposed to do, let him die slow so I don’t get blood on the street?”
A moment of silence passes, and the faint noise of cars rushing on the streets of downtown reaches their ears.
“That would be preferable.”
She shrugs, swinging her hair behind her shoulders. “Whatever, Dominic. Besides, he was a serial killer.” With a pause, she looks at the corpse behind her, which is barely recognizable as a human being, with blood coating the face and clothing. “I wanted it to hurt.”
A small thump, and she can hear him walking towards her, his steps quiet. “You have blood on your face.”
She licks her cheek absently, buffing a nail. “Yeah, yeah. Forcing a guy to relive their worst nightmares and rupturing their inner organs can do that to a girl.”
When he rolls his eyes, she can almost hear him do it. The fire escape creaks, the rusted metal straining from added weight, and she knows that he’s leaning against it, arms crossed and eyes half-closed, watching her carefully (because that’s his job, to watch her and be cautious for her and leave no signs that the two of them exist). They stand like that for a while, her watching the seemingly abandoned fire escape of an old apartment building, and him watching (out for) her.
“Can you turn visible now? Its getting really irritating talking to empty air.”
A sigh, and another figure in black slowly appears, a young man with dark hair and grey eyes. He frowns, considering his hands, watching as his left pinky regained its normal hue. Looking up, he glances at her face again and frowns. “You still have blood on you.”
She grimaces at the shadows, twisting her mouth. “It tastes gross.” Rubbing her arms, she turns to face him, hair swinging and eyes opening wider, until more than a hint of lavender is visible-now he can see the bloody stripe of scarlet that slashes across her iris.
Shoving his hands into pockets, he watches her walk forward until the two of them are scant inches apart. She takes a breath in, and lets it out with a huff.
“You had something sweet, didn’t you?”
He shrugs. “Might have.”
Glaring at him, she takes another breath, smelling the air. “And I can’t even figure it out…”
“Don’t even try it, Anemone. I’m your Handler.”
Pouting, she turns away, crossing her arms. “Yeah, yeah. You know I’m not going to read you.” She glances at the body again, takes in the damage that she’s caused. “Them, however…” Walking over, she prods the body with a single toe, and frowns when more of the crimson blood coats her foot. “Them, I can read. Isn’t that right?”
He nods quietly, and quotes softly, “Handler watches Reader, Reader spares Handler.”
They know the code. It’s how they get by, in this world of madness and mutations.
“Mmph. So where to next, eh, Dominic?” A quick sashay, and she’s standing next to him, their shoulders almost touching. He checks a small handheld device, produced from some pocket near his chest.
“We have to find the Nirvash team.”
Her grin becomes shark-like, showing teeth in a sinister smile. “Ooh. That's going to be fun.”
They start to walk towards the entrance to the sidewalk when she pauses and he frowns, not turning around, not yet. “What?”
The rustle of her uniform alerts him, and he turns his head at her while steadily fading, scanning for attackers-but all he sees is her frowning there, looking at the empty space where he…isn’t.
“…What, Anemone?” He walks towards her, his senses alert, his body barely visible.
Her eyes lock with his, and in one swift motion, she pulls him forward and kisses him-and there isn’t anything soft or tender about it, because an occupation with a one hundred percent fatality rate can do that to you, can make everything a little harsher and sharper and far more intense than it is for normal people, with normal lives and normal abilities (because whatever they may be, it is most definitely not normal).
They pull away from each other, and she frowns at him.
“You did have something sweet. Meanie.”
When they walk away together, he tosses behind a small device, and the corpse is blown to pieces.
(Rule Number One: We don’t exist.)