d.gray-man: Ave Maria
Title: Ave Maria
Prompt: #7: Pretty [[ main table]]
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Marian Cross, Maria; implied one-sides Cross x Maria
Genre: Backstory with a touch of romantic denial and angst
Warnings: Very vague mentions of drinking and some smoking
Disclaimer: I do not own d.gray-man.
Summary: “She'd been beautiful to him, once.”
Notes: It's been ages since I wrote something for my prompts table thing, but I've been bored and a bit inspired. I actually have ideas written for each of the prompts, I just haven't been able to piece them together into a coherent, meaningful fic. This was actually going to be for prompt #6, which was Dolls, but it ended up fitting "Pretty" more. I'd already had a different "pretty" fic three-quaters written, so I'll probably just post that as indepdendent of the prompt challenge. Anyway, this fic is nothing fantastic, plus I'd rather have expanded some stuff more. Somehow, this didn't come out how I wanted it. Oh well.
She’d been beautiful to him, once.
Sometimes she still was, in a morbid, disgusting way.
They said it was a wicked thing to do to his former master. To turn her into some sort of faux-akuma, some soulless puppet for a cruel, demented mastermind.
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“I used to be an opera singer.” She tells him wistfully.
He stares at her in surprise and she frowns at him. “Come now, it’s not that hard to imagine, is it?”
“I just-” Never imagined you as anything more than an Exorcist. Didn’t remember that you were a regular person once, too. Forgot that you were just like me. “-thought you were too ugly for it.”
She scowls and smacks him on the side of the head.
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Men do not leer at her, they only laugh. They do not think she is pretty.
He knows she is not pretty, because she likes pretty people. She likes to be around them, she told him once. She likes to feel pretty by being around them.
He hates when she is around pretty people. It makes him want to judge her. It makes him think about how ugly she is and how much he hates her for it.
Why couldn’t she be pretty, too?
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She laughs and shakes her head at him again. “Now don’t go getting an Oedipus complex on me.”
“You’re not my mother.”
She stops and smiles and looks almost sad.
“I guess not.”
----------------------------------------------------
He lights a cigarette and tosses the wine bottle somewhere. It lands with a shatter and stains the carpet in red. The smoke curls in the air, lingering like lonely souls. He laughs, loud and careless, drunk with his new lowness in life.
He looks to see her standing against the wall.
He waits for that condemning look, that tightening of the lip, that tense of her shoulders.
But she just stands and waits-empty, sightless,
Ugly.
Prompt: #7: Pretty [[ main table]]
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Marian Cross, Maria; implied one-sides Cross x Maria
Genre: Backstory with a touch of romantic denial and angst
Warnings: Very vague mentions of drinking and some smoking
Disclaimer: I do not own d.gray-man.
Summary: “She'd been beautiful to him, once.”
Notes: It's been ages since I wrote something for my prompts table thing, but I've been bored and a bit inspired. I actually have ideas written for each of the prompts, I just haven't been able to piece them together into a coherent, meaningful fic. This was actually going to be for prompt #6, which was Dolls, but it ended up fitting "Pretty" more. I'd already had a different "pretty" fic three-quaters written, so I'll probably just post that as indepdendent of the prompt challenge. Anyway, this fic is nothing fantastic, plus I'd rather have expanded some stuff more. Somehow, this didn't come out how I wanted it. Oh well.
She’d been beautiful to him, once.
Sometimes she still was, in a morbid, disgusting way.
They said it was a wicked thing to do to his former master. To turn her into some sort of faux-akuma, some soulless puppet for a cruel, demented mastermind.
----------------------------------------------------
“I used to be an opera singer.” She tells him wistfully.
He stares at her in surprise and she frowns at him. “Come now, it’s not that hard to imagine, is it?”
“I just-” Never imagined you as anything more than an Exorcist. Didn’t remember that you were a regular person once, too. Forgot that you were just like me. “-thought you were too ugly for it.”
She scowls and smacks him on the side of the head.
----------------------------------------------------
Men do not leer at her, they only laugh. They do not think she is pretty.
He knows she is not pretty, because she likes pretty people. She likes to be around them, she told him once. She likes to feel pretty by being around them.
He hates when she is around pretty people. It makes him want to judge her. It makes him think about how ugly she is and how much he hates her for it.
Why couldn’t she be pretty, too?
----------------------------------------------------
She laughs and shakes her head at him again. “Now don’t go getting an Oedipus complex on me.”
“You’re not my mother.”
She stops and smiles and looks almost sad.
“I guess not.”
----------------------------------------------------
He lights a cigarette and tosses the wine bottle somewhere. It lands with a shatter and stains the carpet in red. The smoke curls in the air, lingering like lonely souls. He laughs, loud and careless, drunk with his new lowness in life.
He looks to see her standing against the wall.
He waits for that condemning look, that tightening of the lip, that tense of her shoulders.
But she just stands and waits-empty, sightless,
Ugly.