(no subject)
Trinity Blood + ZONE-00, set in camp.
miiiiildly, barely spoilery.
When Abel woke with hair the color of fine champagne, the first thing he did was scream. It took Albert a good half hour to calm Abel down enough to cover the mirrors and to make Abel promise not to do anything stupidly detrimental to himself. Hairclips were not quite the epitome of manly, but it did keep his hair out of his face, and that day, Abel was very much of the out of sight, out of mind sort of mindset. He had been doing rather well, really, and had nearly (nearly, but not quite) forgotten about how he looked exactly like Cain. It was too early for the Methuselah to be awake, and Abel planned to be sequestered away in his room before Mr. Barvon ran into him. That he'd not seen Seth was a blessing. Just as he was leaving the Mess Hall from a late-afternoon snack, the pinpricks for three bird-claws alerted him to the presence of someone he really wasn't too fond of.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Benten," he greeted politely, wishing the color of the crow wasn't so similar to what he was trying to forget his hair was like. In the next moment, the yatagarasu was standing in front of him, the strangest look on his face. It was, Abel realized, as though Benten hated him and loved him and was moments from tears. He remembered when they first met: not enough blond, Benten had said. Abel shifted, fidgeting in place.
After a long moment of uncomfortable silence, Benten reached out and covered Abel's eyes. "Should be gold," he said; Abel could hear a mirthless smile in Benten's voice, as well as the undercurrent of pain and rage and fear. It was a familiar sound, almost like his own when he spoke of Cain. A slight increase of pressure as Benten leaned forward, kissed him: brief and chaste. The next second, it was as if there had never been anyone there, Abel standing alone before the building in the dimming light.
When he shadowed his eyes and looked towards the setting sun, he saw the glint off golden feathers.
miiiiildly, barely spoilery.
When Abel woke with hair the color of fine champagne, the first thing he did was scream. It took Albert a good half hour to calm Abel down enough to cover the mirrors and to make Abel promise not to do anything stupidly detrimental to himself. Hairclips were not quite the epitome of manly, but it did keep his hair out of his face, and that day, Abel was very much of the out of sight, out of mind sort of mindset. He had been doing rather well, really, and had nearly (nearly, but not quite) forgotten about how he looked exactly like Cain. It was too early for the Methuselah to be awake, and Abel planned to be sequestered away in his room before Mr. Barvon ran into him. That he'd not seen Seth was a blessing. Just as he was leaving the Mess Hall from a late-afternoon snack, the pinpricks for three bird-claws alerted him to the presence of someone he really wasn't too fond of.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Benten," he greeted politely, wishing the color of the crow wasn't so similar to what he was trying to forget his hair was like. In the next moment, the yatagarasu was standing in front of him, the strangest look on his face. It was, Abel realized, as though Benten hated him and loved him and was moments from tears. He remembered when they first met: not enough blond, Benten had said. Abel shifted, fidgeting in place.
After a long moment of uncomfortable silence, Benten reached out and covered Abel's eyes. "Should be gold," he said; Abel could hear a mirthless smile in Benten's voice, as well as the undercurrent of pain and rage and fear. It was a familiar sound, almost like his own when he spoke of Cain. A slight increase of pressure as Benten leaned forward, kissed him: brief and chaste. The next second, it was as if there had never been anyone there, Abel standing alone before the building in the dimming light.
When he shadowed his eyes and looked towards the setting sun, he saw the glint off golden feathers.