[fic] Life (Kuroshitsuji; Grell)
Idk if this even is something worth posting, but wth, it's been laying around on my hard drive for over two months now, and it's been way too long since I posted something fic-like. Let's just get it done with! :)
"Life"
by exorcistor
Fandom: Kuroshitsuji
People/pairings: Grell Sutcliff
Word count: 250
Genre: general
Rating: ...kinda worksafe?
---
Every person is born, stained in red.
The blood of their mother glistening on their body as they learn the first essential functions in order to exist in this world; breath, and communicate displeasure. It is a beautiful procedure, so colourfull and inescapable.
Like the first time falling and scraping your knee. The blush of the first attraction.
The red is there all through our lives, and so it is only appropriate that one talks about “the red string of fate” and similar expressions, Grell muses. It is only after death, when the string is cut and the blood is stilled, that the human flesh pales, and looses it’s red tone.
Red is beautiful. Red is enthralling, inescapable. Red is life.
And yet, no matter how much he surrounds himself by the colour, he will never be allowed to carry and nurse a new string of fate. He shall never experience the pain of birth, the satisfaction of hearing your child draw its first breath. He shall never be allowed to bend down and sooth the pain of the first scraped knee; never shall he teach a child the ways of life.
So Grell decided to be there at the end of the string, to always dress in the red stolen from others. Women are his favourite subjects to reap; their blood is richer, the carriers of new life; they have had the chance for everything he will never have.
Every person dies, red stolen from them.
---
[edit] To lighten up the mood a bit afterwards; have a princess!Grell and knight!Sakura thread (also, promotion of shortitude's new eventful musebox).
"Life"
by exorcistor
Fandom: Kuroshitsuji
People/pairings: Grell Sutcliff
Word count: 250
Genre: general
Rating: ...kinda worksafe?
---
Every person is born, stained in red.
The blood of their mother glistening on their body as they learn the first essential functions in order to exist in this world; breath, and communicate displeasure. It is a beautiful procedure, so colourfull and inescapable.
Like the first time falling and scraping your knee. The blush of the first attraction.
The red is there all through our lives, and so it is only appropriate that one talks about “the red string of fate” and similar expressions, Grell muses. It is only after death, when the string is cut and the blood is stilled, that the human flesh pales, and looses it’s red tone.
Red is beautiful. Red is enthralling, inescapable. Red is life.
And yet, no matter how much he surrounds himself by the colour, he will never be allowed to carry and nurse a new string of fate. He shall never experience the pain of birth, the satisfaction of hearing your child draw its first breath. He shall never be allowed to bend down and sooth the pain of the first scraped knee; never shall he teach a child the ways of life.
So Grell decided to be there at the end of the string, to always dress in the red stolen from others. Women are his favourite subjects to reap; their blood is richer, the carriers of new life; they have had the chance for everything he will never have.
Every person dies, red stolen from them.
---
[edit] To lighten up the mood a bit afterwards; have a princess!Grell and knight!Sakura thread (also, promotion of shortitude's new eventful musebox).