Rose quartz [drabble]
Title: Rose quartz
Characters: Hidan
Words: 274
Summary: Character study. An animate world.
He cussed and cursed, everything personified, alive with ears and eyes to see. Things were not simply, but were sent. Gifts from his god, a kind of perverted logic in all.
The thorns of the underbrush, restraining those who hunted them, tearing at him. Sharp, glistening, vice-like pain. Glorious.
It were the trees that loomed above them like animate shadows, the wind that felt like the breath of some monstrosity, the blood that pounded in his veins. Everything bewitched, the oldest parts of his being vivid.
He looked at the cloudy, billowing skies, stared at the infinite round and gripped his rosary. Listened to the crows chanting, calling to him, always to him. Someone who was never alone, never removed, swinging his weapon, the scythe swift in the air, cruel steel hissing, crying for prey. Heralding that it was him who knew, him who saw.
Concentrated, fully absorbed, then - smell. He felt his way through life, was guided by reflexes and senses. Mythology manifesting itself wherever he went.
He didn’t plan for the future, didn’t dwell on the past. Instead he was carried away by the roaring stream of sound that filled the fickle moment that was now. He stemmed himself against the current, things crumbling beneath his feet that might as well be his will, the river overpowering. Tearing away at all that secured him. Every second overflowing with sheer feeling. Milky, semi- opaque sensation. Frosty pink and icy warmth. Ambiguity. Rose quartz-like.
A gale went through the tee tops. Master Wind, sighing, singing.
Upon hearing the call, he turned around, saw their enemies catching up. Charging that was -. Answering.
Characters: Hidan
Words: 274
Summary: Character study. An animate world.
He cussed and cursed, everything personified, alive with ears and eyes to see. Things were not simply, but were sent. Gifts from his god, a kind of perverted logic in all.
The thorns of the underbrush, restraining those who hunted them, tearing at him. Sharp, glistening, vice-like pain. Glorious.
It were the trees that loomed above them like animate shadows, the wind that felt like the breath of some monstrosity, the blood that pounded in his veins. Everything bewitched, the oldest parts of his being vivid.
He looked at the cloudy, billowing skies, stared at the infinite round and gripped his rosary. Listened to the crows chanting, calling to him, always to him. Someone who was never alone, never removed, swinging his weapon, the scythe swift in the air, cruel steel hissing, crying for prey. Heralding that it was him who knew, him who saw.
Concentrated, fully absorbed, then - smell. He felt his way through life, was guided by reflexes and senses. Mythology manifesting itself wherever he went.
He didn’t plan for the future, didn’t dwell on the past. Instead he was carried away by the roaring stream of sound that filled the fickle moment that was now. He stemmed himself against the current, things crumbling beneath his feet that might as well be his will, the river overpowering. Tearing away at all that secured him. Every second overflowing with sheer feeling. Milky, semi- opaque sensation. Frosty pink and icy warmth. Ambiguity. Rose quartz-like.
A gale went through the tee tops. Master Wind, sighing, singing.
Upon hearing the call, he turned around, saw their enemies catching up. Charging that was -. Answering.