Fanfiction: Snowflakes
The feeling was gentle and warm, penetrating every pore, leaving a feeling of unsatisfied pleasure. For him, it was strange to feel as a living death, knowing that he may very well be dead, but knowing the feelings he was experiencing were real, like touches and kisses engulfing him.
Spike Spiegel just lay there, having a complete knowledge of the situation, but knowing too well he was at best confused. Why Vicious didn’t finish him off? And why Lin shot him with blanks?
“I guess this old cat has more than nine lives after all?” a deep smile crossed his lips as the irony played in his head more than once. It was his fault, he hesitated, and he let his guard down; such qualities were not embedded in him, not as a bounty hunter nor as assassin, for in the end, his past did tell him what he was, and could not deny that fact on his own.
The gentleness of the snow was now becoming more bitter and bitter with each second and flake that came down. What went wrong? Was he too optimistic? Or did he created fantasies were there should have been carnage and gunpowder? Was all of this, all he had gone through his mistake? Caused by his own weakness?
Off all things, he heard it again, well orchestrated in his head, ad if the snowflakes were reminding him of her, of her sensual figure, her delicate manners and her unforgivable smile. After all, he felt alive then and he was alive now.
“Julia?” was all he could mutter before closing his eyes and falling asleep.
He felt alive because the snowflakes warmed his skin with the sweet memories of his beloved Julia, calling him to rest and be at peace.
Spike Spiegel just lay there, having a complete knowledge of the situation, but knowing too well he was at best confused. Why Vicious didn’t finish him off? And why Lin shot him with blanks?
“I guess this old cat has more than nine lives after all?” a deep smile crossed his lips as the irony played in his head more than once. It was his fault, he hesitated, and he let his guard down; such qualities were not embedded in him, not as a bounty hunter nor as assassin, for in the end, his past did tell him what he was, and could not deny that fact on his own.
The gentleness of the snow was now becoming more bitter and bitter with each second and flake that came down. What went wrong? Was he too optimistic? Or did he created fantasies were there should have been carnage and gunpowder? Was all of this, all he had gone through his mistake? Caused by his own weakness?
Off all things, he heard it again, well orchestrated in his head, ad if the snowflakes were reminding him of her, of her sensual figure, her delicate manners and her unforgivable smile. After all, he felt alive then and he was alive now.
“Julia?” was all he could mutter before closing his eyes and falling asleep.
He felt alive because the snowflakes warmed his skin with the sweet memories of his beloved Julia, calling him to rest and be at peace.