dragonfruit wildberry
Flavors: dragonfruit 4. you think there will be no one to stop you. wildberry 22. covering my tracks
Characters: Sayuri, Ryou and Kaito
Rating: PG13
Story: Abbadon
Title: Lighting Fires
Words: 544
Summary: No one likes Kaito. concrit is always welcome.
Note: These guys have been messing around in my head/my desktop for like two/four years. So now they get to fsu.
The gods paraded about like absolute imbeciles and spoke of peace that none of their children could recall and treaties that never lasted longer than a heartbeat. They ate and drank together and spoke in simpering tones of unity and co-operation, and no one was bothered because they lived in palaces in Takamahara and none of their own were lost. And yet, it was a bitter war. A war their children never understood.
It was because of the war, perhaps, that the gods never noticed the clouds of opium, the empty bottles, the scars and the bruises. It was more likely that they were just shitty parents. In winter the streets were cold, but they belonged to the half-breeds and children of gods and demons. The humans hid inside their homes, cowering in fear of their parents’ armies, placed candles and offerings out in the snow to keep the yokai away. Ryou used the candles to light his cigarettes and Sayuri ate the food. They set fire to everything that would burn and sat in empty alleys, drenched in the warm glow. Ryou kept her warm curled up in her lap and she stroked his hair absentmindedly, teaching Western prayers to wandering ghosts.
The others would come and go, bringing drinks and drugs and lighting bigger fires than they could extinguished. They flooded the streets with their incoherent singing and screaming, banging on the windows of those who slept soundly while they did not. They broke whatever was breakable and pissed on whatever wasn’t. With knives and fists they dug fresh bruises into their friends, lovers and enemies, shrieking and howling until their voices filled the nightmares of human children. They ran like madmen through each district because the gods didn’t want them, the demons despised them, and the humans, in their terror, would destroy them. They ran because they thought no one would stop them, and most nights, they were right.
It was not one of those nights when they met Nakahara Kaito. Ryou’s cigarette dangled from his mouth, gathering ash as he braided Sayuri’s long hair. The city had fallen eerily silent, groups of half breeds hidden in small pockets around flickering fires on the outskirts. Even they feared the goddamn ghosts and dogs when their parents fought.
Neither Ryou nor Sayuri heard Kaito’s approach until the fire lit his face a few feet from where they sat on stacked crates. His lips and arms were bleeding, but Sayuri was unmoved. “Who the fuck are you?”
“You don’t know me?” His voice dripped with arrogance.
“Obviously.”
“Nakahara Kaito.”
Ryou looked curiously up to see the stranger’s face.
“Who’s that?” Kaito asked.
“None of your business,” Sayuri snapped. Ryou went back to the intricate plaits he’d been tying into Sayuri’s hair. Several long minutes passed in which Kaito did not move an inch.
“Who cut you?” Sayuri finally asked.
“No one.”
“Then why are you still here?”
Kaito shrugged. “It’s cold.” He hadn’t taken his eyes off Ryou. “Who is he?” He asked again.
“None of your fucking business,” Sayuri spat, getting to her feet. “Clean up your blood or the ghosts’ll be on you.”
Ryou stood indifferently, following the princess out of the alley. They had nowhere else to go.
Characters: Sayuri, Ryou and Kaito
Rating: PG13
Story: Abbadon
Title: Lighting Fires
Words: 544
Summary: No one likes Kaito. concrit is always welcome.
Note: These guys have been messing around in my head/my desktop for like two/four years. So now they get to fsu.
The gods paraded about like absolute imbeciles and spoke of peace that none of their children could recall and treaties that never lasted longer than a heartbeat. They ate and drank together and spoke in simpering tones of unity and co-operation, and no one was bothered because they lived in palaces in Takamahara and none of their own were lost. And yet, it was a bitter war. A war their children never understood.
It was because of the war, perhaps, that the gods never noticed the clouds of opium, the empty bottles, the scars and the bruises. It was more likely that they were just shitty parents. In winter the streets were cold, but they belonged to the half-breeds and children of gods and demons. The humans hid inside their homes, cowering in fear of their parents’ armies, placed candles and offerings out in the snow to keep the yokai away. Ryou used the candles to light his cigarettes and Sayuri ate the food. They set fire to everything that would burn and sat in empty alleys, drenched in the warm glow. Ryou kept her warm curled up in her lap and she stroked his hair absentmindedly, teaching Western prayers to wandering ghosts.
The others would come and go, bringing drinks and drugs and lighting bigger fires than they could extinguished. They flooded the streets with their incoherent singing and screaming, banging on the windows of those who slept soundly while they did not. They broke whatever was breakable and pissed on whatever wasn’t. With knives and fists they dug fresh bruises into their friends, lovers and enemies, shrieking and howling until their voices filled the nightmares of human children. They ran like madmen through each district because the gods didn’t want them, the demons despised them, and the humans, in their terror, would destroy them. They ran because they thought no one would stop them, and most nights, they were right.
It was not one of those nights when they met Nakahara Kaito. Ryou’s cigarette dangled from his mouth, gathering ash as he braided Sayuri’s long hair. The city had fallen eerily silent, groups of half breeds hidden in small pockets around flickering fires on the outskirts. Even they feared the goddamn ghosts and dogs when their parents fought.
Neither Ryou nor Sayuri heard Kaito’s approach until the fire lit his face a few feet from where they sat on stacked crates. His lips and arms were bleeding, but Sayuri was unmoved. “Who the fuck are you?”
“You don’t know me?” His voice dripped with arrogance.
“Obviously.”
“Nakahara Kaito.”
Ryou looked curiously up to see the stranger’s face.
“Who’s that?” Kaito asked.
“None of your business,” Sayuri snapped. Ryou went back to the intricate plaits he’d been tying into Sayuri’s hair. Several long minutes passed in which Kaito did not move an inch.
“Who cut you?” Sayuri finally asked.
“No one.”
“Then why are you still here?”
Kaito shrugged. “It’s cold.” He hadn’t taken his eyes off Ryou. “Who is he?” He asked again.
“None of your fucking business,” Sayuri spat, getting to her feet. “Clean up your blood or the ghosts’ll be on you.”
Ryou stood indifferently, following the princess out of the alley. They had nowhere else to go.