Taste The Purity. Marik/Bakura.
Taste the Purity.
Bakura watched from the window as Marik stood motionless in the snow, head tilted back and tongue stuck out to catch snowflakes. The Egyptian had been like that for nearly fifteen minutes now, and the fact that he was dressed only in a sleeveless top with lightweight trousers was beginning to annoy Bakura. More annoying though, was that Marik didn't seem to realize that he was standing in the snow in his bare feet. Not that Bakura cared about the other's health, just that it would be annoying if Marik fell sick. From experience, Bakura knew how melodramatic the other could be when ill.
Mentally grumbling to himself, Bakura fetched a thick quilt, then went out into the snow to give it to Marik, first taking care to dress himself properly. Leaning against the psychopath's back, Bakura asked in as calm a tone as he could manage considering how stupid he considered the other's behavior to be, "What are you doing?"
Drawing his tongue back in just long enough to speak, Marik answered, "Tasting purity - shouldn't pure hatred want to taste other forms of purity? And snowflakes would appear to be the only other source of purity in this world."
"Not true." Sliding one hand over to cup the other's chin and turning his head slightly so that their lips met for a brief second, Bakura then pulled away to smirk once more. "There. Doesn't pure darkness taste better than those snowflakes?"
Smirking back, Marik replied, "But the darkness has never been pure. It's been corrupt from the start."
"And the purity of its corruption is absolute." For a change, Bakura had the last word.
~Fin~
Bakura watched from the window as Marik stood motionless in the snow, head tilted back and tongue stuck out to catch snowflakes. The Egyptian had been like that for nearly fifteen minutes now, and the fact that he was dressed only in a sleeveless top with lightweight trousers was beginning to annoy Bakura. More annoying though, was that Marik didn't seem to realize that he was standing in the snow in his bare feet. Not that Bakura cared about the other's health, just that it would be annoying if Marik fell sick. From experience, Bakura knew how melodramatic the other could be when ill.
Mentally grumbling to himself, Bakura fetched a thick quilt, then went out into the snow to give it to Marik, first taking care to dress himself properly. Leaning against the psychopath's back, Bakura asked in as calm a tone as he could manage considering how stupid he considered the other's behavior to be, "What are you doing?"
Drawing his tongue back in just long enough to speak, Marik answered, "Tasting purity - shouldn't pure hatred want to taste other forms of purity? And snowflakes would appear to be the only other source of purity in this world."
"Not true." Sliding one hand over to cup the other's chin and turning his head slightly so that their lips met for a brief second, Bakura then pulled away to smirk once more. "There. Doesn't pure darkness taste better than those snowflakes?"
Smirking back, Marik replied, "But the darkness has never been pure. It's been corrupt from the start."
"And the purity of its corruption is absolute." For a change, Bakura had the last word.
~Fin~