THE AKAME MASS COMMENT FICCY THING REDUX! (#1)
It's that time of the year...
Same as last time. You know what to do.
PROMPT. WRITE. PIMP. STALK.
Go!
You can: prompt even if you don't plan to write; prompt/write any rating from g to nc-17; prompt/write drama incarnations of akame. you don't need to be prompted to write ;)
This entry:→ Is always second from the top ( Read more... )
Same as last time. You know what to do.
PROMPT. WRITE. PIMP. STALK.
Go!
You can: prompt even if you don't plan to write; prompt/write any rating from g to nc-17; prompt/write drama incarnations of akame. you don't need to be prompted to write ;)
This entry:→ Is always second from the top ( Read more... )
He tries to stay in the shadows, gliding along the tapestry-clad walls as he bypasses marble columns and statues painted grotesque in the night. Under other circumstances, he’d probably stop before the pretty landscape picture that radiates tranquility and admire the lighting angles, but the gun is heavy in his hands, the weight a constant reminder in his sweaty palms.
Kame’s pulse is quick and fluttery in his neck, the adrenaline drumming through his veins as he suddenly skips to a halt. He plasters himself to the lean surface, the cold stone is chilling against his sweaty nape while his eyes quickly sweep through the empty space behind him to make sure that he’s still alone in the room. He crouches down, the movement slow and as silent as he can manage, and peers around the corner into the next room - the room where the most famous (and also the most expensive) piece of the current exhibition is displayed.
And sure enough, Kame sees a black shape kneeling in front of the picture, way behind the red rope safety lines, and the lazy fickle of a flashlight moving along the frame. Considering it’s way past visiting hours, and that the visitor is wearing anything but the usual, standard security or cleaning personnel uniform, Kame is sure that the shape clad in all black is not part of the staff.
“Ugh. God. I can’t believe I’m stealing this. It’s disgusting,” the thief says in a voice distinctly male, the syllables laced with palpable disdain.
Kame silently agrees and wonders why someone would want to steal a painting so boring and so ugly. He thought, even during the opening of the exhibition, that the masterpiece was overrated and got more publicity and a higher intangible value than it deserved. He guesses the thief works on orders, gets whatever the client pays for and doesn’t complain about the beauty of the merchandise when the compensation is good enough for the eyesore. Or at least, not in front of the client.
The thief finally stands up, switches off and lowers the flashlight while he takes a few steps back, and promptly tumbles over the safety rope.
Amidst the loud clattering and swearing, Kame decides to make his presence known. He quickly moves into the room, the gun held steady in his hands as his calm, professional voice echoes in the night.
“Freeze.”
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is there more of this? please say there is more
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DON'T TRY TO DISTRACT ME. :/ I'M TRYING TO FINISH PIRATE!AKAME FIC. I'm so glad Monday is holiday sdfghj
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