A Path of Breathless Dolls. FFX (Dark AU). Yunalesca/Yuna.
Title: A Path of Breathless Dolls.
Fandom: FFX (Dark!AU)
Pairing: Yunalesca/Yuna.
Prompt: Dress Up.
Rating: T.
Words: 500.
Spoilers?: Yunalesca. Zanarkand.
Author's Note: I'm not entirely sure how people are going to react to this :/ it's not overtly gorey/evil but it does have a tone of cruelty going through it that I'm not sure whether or not Yunalesca deserves. >.>, *Is very nervous over here*
You had won; your spiral of hope would continue to live.
Their bodies laid forever breathless upon your stone floor and blood as dark as night still stained your clothes.
One still remained with air twisting free from their lungs and mouth though.
Yuna.
She now rested in forced sleep besides her dead loved ones; her lips were parted and unknowingly allowed the flow of their blood to drip and stream down into the cavern of her mouth.
You begin to strip yourself of your bloodied clothing as the girl's lids fluttered; it reminds you of crushed butterflies that still had a few seconds left as they tried to escape to safety unsuccessfully.
Those eyes open and the gagging, screaming sounds arrive as she hunches over one of her friends.
Her body is like a willow; bent and with falling sweat soaked hair as her dangling leaves.
The sight causes you to lick your lips.
When a failed summoner or left behind guardian came you were not so alone anymore.
For awhile at least.
You approach her trembling form which is cradling the Mage's head and stroking her loose hair. When she raises her own head her eyes do not linger on you, instead there is hatred and lost hope burning into your all knowing pupils.
"Clean."
Shock replaces the hate.
"Use this-" You allow your bloodied garments to slap down onto the ground next to her. "- to mop up some of the blood, then use your own clothing for the rest."
"No."
Your hand curls around the back of her throat, like a lioness to its cub, and you pick up your bra and hold it close to her face; the blood is still wet and it soaks into her cheek.
"Rid this place of their life essence and I shall allow you to send and bury your friends."
She takes the small piece of clothing and begins.
You look away for a moment.
Then the whistling begins.
Yuna does not stop the noise; does she expect one of her fallen comrades to awake to that tune?
When the fallen summoner has finished you wait for her to come to you.
You pull her onto your lap; you want a cocoon's inner silence, not the mournful whistle of a lovebird.
Your poisonous mouth and spider kisses pull apart her tune as easily as a butterfly can break.
You imprint your name and harsh voice into her ears and mind, your nails rake down and now posses her skin and body.
You must have her breath; already her name belongs to you, that is proof of your ownership.
Your hands wrap around her throat.
You listen.
There are three male voices approaching your home; they have passed the dug up patch of earth surrounded with swarms of bloated fiends and now they have arrived.
Two are adults while the other is a child.
"Who shall become the Final Aeon?"
The one remaining shall be your next dress up doll.