In His Mind, A Wicked Wingheavenly_homeJuly 6 2010, 04:57:35 UTC
Ys, Fuu, angel
In his dream, when he daydreams - which he does rarely, almost never- Fuu sprouts one white wing from her back, a true angle wing half hidden by the long fall of her curling blond hair. He stands before her, unmoving, and her sword, glittering with crystals shaped like light, like hope, is poised just above his heart. One smooth thrust through his chest and he would be...
She is crying, frozen in time like a statue of the ages, sorrowful but willing. He reaches out, touches his end, and finds it warm and giving- her arm beneath his fingertips.
Fuu has killed, has been claimed Death’s Bringer, the Angel of Death by another, tricked into the role by a child he could have felt a kinship with (if he could feel at all).
Dreams can become reality, he knows; all his dreams are real, nightmares in the dark of his mind. This end he can long for, could thank her for.
In his dream, when he daydreams - which he does rarely, almost never- Fuu sprouts one white wing from her back, a true angle wing half hidden by the long fall of her curling blond hair. He stands before her, unmoving, and her sword, glittering with crystals shaped like light, like hope, is poised just above his heart. One smooth thrust through his chest and he would be...
She is crying, frozen in time like a statue of the ages, sorrowful but willing. He reaches out, touches his end, and finds it warm and giving- her arm beneath his fingertips.
Fuu has killed, has been claimed Death’s Bringer, the Angel of Death by another, tricked into the role by a child he could have felt a kinship with (if he could feel at all).
Dreams can become reality, he knows; all his dreams are real, nightmares in the dark of his mind. This end he can long for, could thank her for.
Will you be my angel, Fuu?
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