Fic - "Cut of Death" - ST
Title: Cut of Death
By: St. Minority
Fandom: Sweeney Todd
Characters: Sweeney Todd
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own ST; belongs to the people who wrote it and Depp's portrayal.
Warning: talk of death - really not bad.
Summary: Death shouldn't feel so good.
A/N: After seeing the trailer and the pics, tiny inspiration bit. Small drabble thingy.
****
Was death supposed to feel so good? He wasn’t sure. If there was even a shadow of the man he used to be, it would certainly cause death to not be a pleasant, liberating occurrence like it had become. He was God now. The power to pick and choose sent unsettling, yet invigorating tingles throughout his anatomy every time.
The knife was his weapon of gallantry; the chair was the battlefield on which he won each skirmish. When the blood sprinkled on his pale face, he was baptized. It was the confirmation of his vengeance. He had found his new calling. The demented grin and the maniacal glint in his eyes grew familiar as he went about his work. Whatever slivers of remorse and anxiety that had existed when he slaughtered the first time had been shredded.
“Who’s ready for a cut of death today, Mr. Todd?” he questioned aloud as he studied himself in the mirror. “How many today?”
He had kept a tally, though he knew no number would be enough to satisfy his lust to avenge the loves in his former life.
By: St. Minority
Fandom: Sweeney Todd
Characters: Sweeney Todd
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own ST; belongs to the people who wrote it and Depp's portrayal.
Warning: talk of death - really not bad.
Summary: Death shouldn't feel so good.
A/N: After seeing the trailer and the pics, tiny inspiration bit. Small drabble thingy.
****
Was death supposed to feel so good? He wasn’t sure. If there was even a shadow of the man he used to be, it would certainly cause death to not be a pleasant, liberating occurrence like it had become. He was God now. The power to pick and choose sent unsettling, yet invigorating tingles throughout his anatomy every time.
The knife was his weapon of gallantry; the chair was the battlefield on which he won each skirmish. When the blood sprinkled on his pale face, he was baptized. It was the confirmation of his vengeance. He had found his new calling. The demented grin and the maniacal glint in his eyes grew familiar as he went about his work. Whatever slivers of remorse and anxiety that had existed when he slaughtered the first time had been shredded.
“Who’s ready for a cut of death today, Mr. Todd?” he questioned aloud as he studied himself in the mirror. “How many today?”
He had kept a tally, though he knew no number would be enough to satisfy his lust to avenge the loves in his former life.